Chapter 10
The armored SUV came to a smooth halt beneath the grand, stone portico of the Russo estate. The massive wrought-iron gates clanged shut behind them, the heavy metallic thud echoing through the rainy night like a prison door locking into place. Maya swallowed the lump of fear in her throat. There was no turning back now. The world of Bellanote, her exhaustion, and her simple dreams of a bakery felt like a lifetime ago.
The heavy doors of the SUV were pulled open by silent, suited men holding large umbrellas. Dante stepped out first, his tall, muscular frame commanding immediate respect from his soldiers. He turned and offered a hand to Maya.
Maya ignored his hand. Adjusting her grip on the sleeping child, she stepped out into the cold night air, sheltering Sophia from the dampness. Dante didn't look offended; a faint ghost of a smirk touched the corner of his mouth before vanishing behind his usual cold facade.
"Take them to the east wing," Dante ordered a stern-looking woman waiting by the grand oak doors of the mansion. "Maya has total authority over Sophia's routine. Whatever she needs, provide it."
Maya followed the housekeeper through the palatial home. The interior was breathtaking—soaring ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and priceless art—but it felt sterile, devoid of the warmth that a home should have. Armed guards stood at discreet intervals in the hallways, their eyes tracking Maya’s every move.
They finally reached a massive bedroom decorated in soft pinks and creams. Maya gently laid Sophia onto the plush bed, pulling a thick down comforter over the little girl’s dark-blue velvet dress. Maya sat on the edge of the mattress, exhaling a long, shaky breath. She was exhausted, terrified, and completely out of her depth.
As Maya began to softly stroke the child's hair, Sophia shifted in her sleep. The little girl’s hand opened, and a crumpled piece of paper slipped from her tiny grasp, falling onto the pristine white sheets.
Maya frowned. She gently picked up the paper and smoothed it out under the warm light of the bedside lamp. It wasn't the napkin from the restaurant. It was a receipt.
Maya’s blood ran completely cold.
It was a receipt for a massive bulk order of flour, sugar, and baking equipment. But it wasn't the items that made her heart stop; it was the logo printed at the top of the paper. It was the elegant, cursive logo of "Sweet Haven," the exact bakery in Brooklyn that Maya had been saving for years to buy. The bakery that was supposedly owned by a sweet, elderly couple who were retiring.
Written in harsh, black ink across the back of the receipt, in handwriting Maya didn't recognize, were three words: She knows everything.
Maya stared at the paper, her hands trembling violently. How did Sophia get this? Why was a receipt from the bakery Maya wanted to buy in the hands of a mafia boss's traumatized daughter?
The realization hit her like a physical blow. Her connection to this family wasn't an accident. Sophia hadn't just spoken to her because of a red crayon. Maya’s entire life, her dreams, her struggles, were somehow tied to the disappearance of Dante Russo’s wife.
The heavy oak door of the bedroom suddenly clicked open. Dante stood in the doorway, his pale gray eyes fixed on Maya as she held the receipt.
May you like
"Is there a problem, Maya?" Dante asked softly, stepping into the room, the shadows closing in around him.
Maya looked at the terrifying man, clutching the paper in her hand, realizing she wasn't just a nanny in a mafia war. She was the missing piece of the puzzle.
