Chapter 2 – THE BLOOD ON THE MARBLE

The scream tore through the silence of the massive estate, sharp and desperately terrified.

Lorenzo didn’t hesitate. He dropped the receipt onto the small table and bolted out of the room, drawing a heavy silver pistol from his shoulder holster as he sprinted down the hallway.

His four bodyguards were already converging at the top of the grand staircase, weapons drawn.

“Basement!” Lorenzo barked, vaulting down the marble steps two at a time.

He reached the heavy oak door leading to the service corridors and kicked it open. The air down here was significantly colder, smelling of damp stone and old wine.

“Clear the kitchen! Move!” Lorenzo ordered his men, charging down the final flight of steep, narrow stairs into the massive wine cellar.

He rounded the corner, his gun raised, ready to kill whatever intruder had breached the estate during the blizzard.

But there was no intruder.

Lying at the bottom of the cellar stairs, curled into a tight, agonizing ball, was a young woman in an oversized maid’s uniform.

A heavy brass mop bucket was overturned beside her, freezing, soapy water spilling across the stone floor.

Lorenzo lowered his weapon, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Boss, it’s just a maid,” one of his bodyguards said, holstering his weapon with a sigh of relief.

But Lorenzo didn’t relax.

He saw the way Nora was clutching her swollen belly, her face completely pale, gasping for air between jagged, terrifying screams of pain.

And then, he saw the blood.

A dark red stain was blooming rapidly across the gray fabric of her uniform skirt.

“She’s pregnant,” Lorenzo realized, panic finally breaking through his icy exterior.

He dropped to his knees on the freezing, wet stone floor beside her.

“Hey, look at me,” Lorenzo ordered, his voice rough but surprisingly gentle as he carefully touched her shoulder.

Nora’s eyes were wide with sheer terror. She grabbed his thick, tailored overcoat with her cracked, raw hands, leaving wet, soapy handprints on the expensive fabric.

“My baby,” Nora choked out, a fresh wave of agony twisting her face. “Please… my baby!”

“You fell down the stairs?” Lorenzo asked, quickly checking her head for a concussion.

“Mrs. Gable… she made me carry the bucket,” Nora sobbed, her breath hitching violently. “I slipped… the water was freezing… I couldn’t hold onto the railing.”

Lorenzo’s gray eyes darkened into something utterly lethal.

Mrs. Gable made her carry a heavy bucket down three flights of steep stairs.

“Call the estate doctor right now!” Lorenzo roared at his men, effortlessly scooping Nora into his arms.

He stood up, carrying her as carefully as if she were made of glass.

“The roads are closed, boss!” his lead bodyguard yelled, trailing behind him as Lorenzo carried Nora up the cellar stairs. “The blizzard has the entire county completely snowed in! No ambulances can get through!”

“Then get Dr. Evans on the phone and tell him to walk us through it!” Lorenzo snapped, kicking the kitchen doors open.

The kitchen staff froze in terror, staring at the terrifying mafia boss carrying a bleeding maid covered in soapy water.

“Clear the large dining table!” Lorenzo commanded.

Two terrified chefs immediately swept expensive centerpieces and silver platters onto the floor, making space. Lorenzo gently laid Nora down on the polished mahogany wood.

Nora let out another agonizing scream, her back arching off the table.

“Lily,” Nora cried, tears streaming down her face. “She’s too early! It’s too early!”

“She’s going to be fine,” Lorenzo promised, though he had absolutely no idea if it was true. He stripped off his expensive overcoat and placed it under her head like a pillow.

Mrs. Gable suddenly burst into the kitchen, flanked by two nervous maids.

“What on earth is all this screaming?” Mrs. Gable demanded, her sharp voice dripping with irritation.

She stopped dead in her tracks, staring at the blood on Lorenzo’s white shirt sleeves, and the pregnant maid writhing on the dining table.

“Mr. Moretti!” Mrs. Gable gasped, her face draining of color. “Sir, please step away from her! She’s ruining the table! I’ll have the guards throw her out immediately!”

The entire kitchen went completely silent.

Lorenzo slowly turned around.

The look on his face made Mrs. Gable physically step backward.

“You sent a six-month pregnant woman down steep cellar stairs carrying a heavy brass bucket?” Lorenzo asked, his voice a low, dangerous whisper that chilled the room far more than the blizzard outside.

“She… she was being lazy, sir,” Mrs. Gable stammered, terrified. “She needs to earn her keep! This is an elite estate, not a charity for unwed mothers!”

Lorenzo didn’t yell.

He drew his heavy silver pistol, aimed it directly at Mrs. Gable’s knee, and pulled the trigger.

The gunshot deafened the kitchen.

Mrs. Gable shrieked in absolute agony, collapsing onto the marble floor, clutching her shattered kneecap as blood pooled around her expensive shoes.

The kitchen staff screamed, scrambling backward in sheer terror.

“Throw her outside in the snow,” Lorenzo ordered his men coldly, completely ignoring the housekeeper’s hysterical sobbing. “If she bleeds to death before the storm clears, bury her.”

Two massive bodyguards immediately grabbed the screaming Mrs. Gable by the arms, dragging her out of the kitchen toward the freezing blizzard outside.

Lorenzo turned his attention back to Nora.

She was hyperventilating, staring at the gun in his hand with wide, terrified eyes.

“Hey,” Lorenzo said, quickly holstering the weapon. He placed his large, warm hands on her shoulders. “I’m not going to hurt you. You are safe.”

Suddenly, the kitchen doors swung open again.

Lorenzo’s lead bodyguard rushed in, holding a cell phone.

“Boss, I have Dr. Evans on speakerphone,” the guard said frantically. “He says if the bleeding doesn’t stop, they’ll both die. We have to deliver the baby right now.”