The Pregnant Maid Treated the Ignored Old Man Like Royalty—Unaware He Was the Mafia Boss’s Father

He disappeared down the hallway.

Almost immediately, Mrs. Gable turned back toward the staff.

“Back to work, all of you.”

Approximately 1 hour later, Nora was carrying a tall stack of freshly ironed linens along the 2nd-floor corridor.

Her vision had begun to blur from exhaustion, and her blood sugar was dangerously low. As she reached the top of the grand marble staircase, her foot caught against the edge of the carpet.

She stumbled.

The linens scattered across the floor.

Nora caught the railing before she could fall down the staircase, but the brass laundry basket slipped from her grasp. It bounced down the marble steps and struck the floor below with a crash that echoed through the mansion.

The estate fell silent.

Footsteps approached from below.

Mrs. Gable appeared at the foot of the staircase, her face flushed with rage.

“You stupid, clumsy, worthless girl!”

She rushed up the stairs.

At the landing, Mrs. Gable shoved Nora backward.

Nora cried out and fell hard onto her hands and knees, immediately wrapping her arms around her pregnant belly.

“I’m sorry,” she said through tears as she tried to gather the fallen linens. “I’m so sorry. I just… I felt dizzy.”

“Get out!”

Mrs. Gable’s voice carried through the marble hallway.

“I am sick of looking at your pathetic, swollen face. You are fired. Pack your garbage and get out of this house right now.”

“Please,” Nora begged. “There’s a blizzard outside. I have no money, nowhere to go. My baby will freeze to death.”

“That sounds like a personal problem.”

Mrs. Gable raised her hand as though she intended to strike Nora across the face.

“I said, get—”

A heavy wooden door creaked open at the end of the east-wing hallway.

Mrs. Gable stopped with her hand still raised.

Nora turned from the floor.

Giovanni Moretti emerged slowly from room 4B.

No maid was pushing him.

His frail, trembling hands gripped the wheels of his chair, forcing them forward through an effort that visibly strained his body. His knuckles had turned white.

Mrs. Gable stared.

“What is the meaning of this? Who left his door open? Get him back in his room.”

Giovanni stopped several feet from Nora.

Then he lifted his head.

He looked directly at Mrs. Gable.

The intensity of his expression made her step backward.

The man who had not spoken for 5 years opened his mouth.

His unused voice was rough and strained.

“Touch her again,” Giovanni said, keeping his eyes on Mrs. Gable, “and I will have my son cut your hands off.”

At that moment, the heavy doors to the master study opened.

Lorenzo stepped into the corridor, drawn by the noise.

From below, he looked toward the top of the staircase.

He saw Mrs. Gable with her hand raised. He saw the pregnant maid crying on the floor.

Then he saw his father.

And he heard Giovanni Moretti speak.

The grand hallway became silent except for the blizzard striking the reinforced glass windows.

Lorenzo stood motionless at the bottom of the marble staircase, staring at the frail figure of his father.

For 5 years, he had watched Giovanni deteriorate in silence. Medical specialists from Switzerland to Tokyo had told him that his father was permanently locked inside his own mind, the result of a massive stroke.

Now Giovanni was moving his own wheelchair.

He was speaking.

And he had done both to defend a pregnant maid.

Lorenzo began climbing the staircase.

Behind him, his 4 bodyguards spread across the lower level, their hands remaining near their weapons as they watched the scene unfold.

Mrs. Gable backed against the wall. The color had drained from her face.

“Father,” Lorenzo said.

His usually controlled voice carried an emotion he had rarely allowed himself to show.

Giovanni did not look at him.

His attention remained fixed on Mrs. Gable.

“This woman,” Giovanni said, each word requiring visible effort. “This woman left me in the freezing dark. She fed me rotting garbage. She laughed while her pathetic staff treated me like a decaying corpse.”

Mrs. Gable shook her head rapidly.

“No, Mr. Moretti, please. You must listen to me. He’s confused. His mind is sick. I have given him the utmost care.”

“Silence.”

Lorenzo’s voice filled the hallway.

He reached the landing and stood over Mrs. Gable.

He did not ask for further explanation. Giovanni’s ability to speak had already changed everything, and Mrs. Gable’s reaction gave him no reason to believe her denial.

Then Lorenzo turned toward Nora.

She remained on the floor, shaking, her hands wrapped around her belly. She had no idea what would happen next and feared being caught in the consequences of what Giovanni had revealed.

Giovanni finally looked away from the housekeeper.

His expression softened when he looked at Nora.

“This girl,” he continued, his voice quieter, “this broken, beautiful girl, she brought me fire when I was freezing to death in the shadows. She bought me thick blankets with the pennies she earned scrubbing these wretched floors. She fed me warm food and washed my face with kind hands. She treated a crippled ghost like a king.”

Then Giovanni slowly raised 1 trembling finger and pointed toward Lorenzo.

“She is family now. Anyone who disrespects her dies.”

Lorenzo’s jaw tightened.

For the 1st time, he looked closely at Nora.

He saw the purple bruises around her wrists where Mrs. Gable had grabbed her. He saw the heavy circles beneath her eyes. He saw the oversized, worn uniform around her pregnant body.

Something protective took hold of him immediately.

Lorenzo snapped his fingers.

2 bodyguards came up the staircase and seized Mrs. Gable by the arms.

“Mr. Moretti, no. Please, I beg you,” she screamed, struggling as they lifted her from the floor. “I have served this family for 10 years.”

“Throw her out,” Lorenzo said. “No coat, no phone, no car. Let her walk through the blizzard to the main road. If she survives the storm, make sure she never finds employment in this country again.”

Nora watched as the housekeeper was dragged down the stairs and taken to the front entrance.

The heavy doors opened.

Mrs. Gable was forced outside into the blinding snow.

Then the doors slammed shut behind her.

Silence returned to the estate.

Lorenzo lowered himself onto the marble floor beside Nora.

He was a man accustomed to having others bow before him, yet now he knelt until he was level with a frightened maid.

He reached out carefully and placed his hands around her bruised shoulders, steadying her.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“Nora.”

Fresh tears moved down her cheeks as she looked into his gray eyes.

“Nora,” Lorenzo repeated.

Without further explanation, he lifted her into his arms.

“Your scrubbing days are over. You are under my absolute protection now.”

He carried her down the illuminated corridor.

Nora rested her head hesitantly against his chest. She could smell expensive cologne mixed with the cold winter air still clinging to his clothes.

For the 1st time in months, she felt safe.

Lorenzo passed the servants’ quarters without stopping and took her toward the estate’s master wing.

“Bring the private estate doctor,” he ordered a passing butler. “And prepare the primary guest suite immediately. Have the executive chef prepare a hot, nutritious meal.”