At 3:07 A.M., New York’s Most Feared Mafia Boss Caught His Maid Whispering “I Love You More Than Anything” Into Her Phone

Kieran did not take Saraphina back to the estate immediately.

Instead, he drove her to a private office belonging to one of his attorneys, where the documents could be examined without exposing Isabella's medical information to the wider Blackwood organization.

Saraphina sat across from him while a lawyer reviewed the birth certificate.

Every minute felt longer than the last.

Finally, the attorney removed his glasses.

"The certificate appears authentic, but I cannot confirm the biological relationship without further testing."

"How long?" Saraphina asked.

"Preliminary results could take several days."

"And the trust?"

The attorney looked at Kieran.

"If the original trust exists, its provisions may supersede several transfers made after Richard's death. But we need the original documents."

"Where are they?"

"We don't know."

Kieran leaned forward.

"Find them."

The attorney nodded.

When he left, Saraphina stood and walked toward the window.

She had spent years believing that the greatest threat to her daughter's future was poverty.

Now she was learning that money itself might be the reason Isabella was in danger.

"I want to take her somewhere safe," she said.

Kieran rose.

"I agree."

"Not your mansion."

He stopped.

"Why not?"

"Because your family is the problem."

He accepted the accusation without protest.

"Then we'll find another location."

"Somewhere nobody knows about."

"All right."

"And I choose who comes near her."

"Of course."

She turned toward him.

"Why are you being so accommodating?"

Kieran looked at her for a long moment.

"Because you've spent six years making decisions for a child who needs you to be strong. The last thing you need is another man telling you what to do."

Her expression softened despite herself.

"That's surprisingly decent of you."

"Don't tell anyone. It could ruin my reputation."

A startled laugh escaped her.

It was the first time she had laughed around him without immediately regretting it.

Kieran found himself wanting to hear the sound again.

He wanted to know what made her smile, what frightened her, and what she dreamed about when she allowed herself to imagine a life without hospital bills and secrets.

He wanted to sit beside her without an excuse.

He wanted to tell her that he had been falling in love with her for eighteen months.

Instead, he asked, "What does Isabella like?"

Saraphina blinked.

"What?"

"Her favorite food. Her favorite movie. What makes her happy?"

She studied him suspiciously.

"Why?"

"Because if I'm going to help protect her, I'd like to know who I'm protecting."

For several minutes, Saraphina told him about Isabella.

She loved strawberry pancakes, terrible jokes, and stories about animals who saved people. She hated thunderstorms and refused to sleep without a stuffed rabbit named Captain Floppy.

She wanted to become a doctor because she believed doctors could fix anything.

When Saraphina finished, Kieran was quiet.

Then he said, "She sounds wonderful."

"She is."

"And she has you."

Saraphina looked away.

"Sometimes I wonder whether that's enough."

Kieran stepped closer.

"It is."

She shook her head.

"You don't know what it's like to be responsible for another person's entire world."

"No," he admitted. "I don't."

He paused.

"But I know what it's like to grow up believing nobody is coming to save you."

Saraphina looked at him.

For the first time, she wondered what the boy Kieran had been like before he became the man everyone feared.

He rarely spoke about his childhood.

She knew his father had died when he was young, and his mother had followed several years later. She had heard rumors about a bitter succession dispute and a family divided by violence.

But she had never asked him about any of it.

Now she understood why he had reacted so strongly when she told him about Isabella.

He recognized something in her struggle.

Something he had spent years burying inside himself.

Before she could ask more, Kieran's phone rang.

Marco.

Kieran answered.

"Tell me."

"We found the original trust."

"Where?"

"In a storage facility registered to Daniel Price."

Kieran frowned.

"Bring him in."

"There's a problem."

"What?"

"Price is missing."

A pause.

"His apartment was searched sometime last night. The place was turned upside down, and there's blood on the floor."

Saraphina's hand flew to her mouth.

Kieran's expression became unreadable.

"Is he alive?"

"We don't know."

"Find him."

Marco hesitated.

"There's something else. A message was delivered to the estate."

Kieran waited.

Marco sent him a photograph.

It showed a white envelope lying on the desk in Kieran's office.

Inside was a single sheet of paper.

A photograph of Isabella had been attached to it.

The child was sitting in her hospital bed, holding Captain Floppy.

Someone had taken the picture through the glass wall of the room.

Beneath it were seven words.

THE GIRL BELONGS TO THE BLACKWOODS.

Kieran's face turned cold.

Saraphina saw the change immediately.

"What happened?"

He showed her the photograph.

For a moment, she couldn't move.

Then she made a small, broken sound.

"Someone was watching my daughter."

Kieran caught her as her knees weakened.

She clutched his shirt.

"How could they get that close? She was in the hospital. There were nurses everywhere."

"We'll find out."

"Someone was watching her sleep!"

"I know."

"What if they had taken her?"

Kieran tightened his arms around her.

"They didn't."

"But they could have!"

Her voice shattered.

He held her until her breathing began to steady.

Then he gently drew back.

"Saraphina, look at me."

She forced herself to meet his eyes.

"I swear to you that nobody will take Isabella from you."

She wanted to believe him.

She wanted to believe that his money, his power, and his dangerous reputation could create a wall strong enough to keep the world away from her daughter.

But the photograph had changed everything.

This was no longer an argument about inheritance.

Someone had found Isabella.

Someone had watched her.

And someone believed that a seven-year-old child belonged to them.

Kieran called Marco.

"Get every camera recording from the hospital. I want the identity of everyone who entered or left that unit during the past seventy-two hours."

"We're on it."

"Move Isabella to the private pediatric wing at St. Catherine's. Coordinate with the hospital director. Her mother must approve every change."

"Understood."

"And Marco?"

"Yes?"

"Find Victor."

Marco's voice hardened.

"We've located one of his properties."

"Then we're done looking."

After the call, Kieran turned to Saraphina.

"I need to ask you something."

She wiped her cheeks.

"What?"

"Would you allow me to arrange security for Isabella?"

She hesitated.

"Not the kind that follows her everywhere."

"Agreed."

"And I want to know their names. I want to speak with them before they come near her."

"Done."

"And if she asks why they're there?"

"You tell her the truth in whatever way you think is appropriate."

Saraphina studied him.

"You're really going to let me make these decisions?"

"She's your daughter."

The answer was so simple that it hurt.

She nodded.

"All right."

Kieran exhaled slowly.

Then, before he could stop himself, he reached for her hand.

She looked down at their joined fingers.

Neither moved.

For one fragile moment, the world outside the office seemed distant.

Kieran wanted to kiss her.

He wanted to tell her that the first time he noticed her had been eighteen months earlier, when she had stayed late to help a cook whose husband had been hospitalized.

He wanted to admit that he had started taking breakfast in the kitchen because he liked hearing her hum while she worked.

He wanted to confess that he had memorized her favorite tea, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was nervous, and the fact that she always checked the front door twice before going to bed.

But she was frightened, exhausted, and trying to save her daughter.

He would not make his feelings another burden.

He released her hand.

"Let's get Isabella somewhere safe."

They arrived at the hospital shortly after noon.

Isabella was delighted to see her mother and immediately asked whether Captain Floppy could come to the new room.

"He goes wherever I go," she explained solemnly.

Kieran, standing near the door, nodded.

"That sounds like an excellent policy."

Isabella examined him.

"Are you the superhero?"

Saraphina covered her mouth.

Kieran looked at the stuffed rabbit.

"I've been told I don't qualify without a cape."

Isabella considered him.

"That's true."

He almost smiled.

"Then I'll have to work on that."

The little girl giggled.

For a moment, Saraphina watched them together and felt something she hadn't allowed herself to feel in years.

Hope.

Then a nurse entered carrying a small package.

"This was delivered for Isabella."

Saraphina stiffened.

"Who brought it?"

"A courier. He said it was from a family friend."

Kieran immediately stepped forward.

"Don't open it."

The nurse stopped.

Security personnel examined the package and discovered a small music box inside.

There was no explosive device.

No weapon.

Only a folded note.

Kieran opened it carefully.

The handwriting was unmistakable.

Victor.

MY DEAR NIECE, YOUR FATHER LEFT YOU SOMETHING THAT BELONGS TO ME. SOON, WE WILL DISCUSS YOUR FUTURE.

Saraphina felt sick.

Kieran folded the note.

He looked at Marco, who had just entered the room.

"Get everyone out of the corridor."

Marco nodded.

Kieran turned back to Saraphina.

"Take Isabella into the adjoining room with the nurse. I'll be there in a moment."

She clutched his arm.

"Don't leave us."

He looked down at her hand.

"I won't."

She held his gaze.

"Promise me."

"I promise."

Only then did she let go.

After she left, Kieran walked to the window.

His expression was terrifyingly calm.

Marco approached.

"Victor has sent a message."

"I can read."

"What do you want to do?"

Kieran watched the city below.

For years, he had avoided an open conflict with his uncle's remaining associates. He had believed that Victor's influence was fading, that the old man's secrets were buried, and that the Blackwood organization could move forward without reopening old wounds.

Now a seven-year-old girl had become the target of that unfinished war.

Kieran turned.

"Find everyone who helped Victor disappear."

Marco nodded.

"And after that?"

Kieran's eyes hardened.

"Tell them the Blackwood family has changed ownership."

Marco understood.

The old rules were finished.