177 The Mafia Boss Caught Me Bleeding in His Mansion—Then His Fiancee Forced Me to Spy, Not Knowing He Handed Me the Exact Weapon to Destroy Her

The fourth floor of the Moretti mansion felt like an entirely different world.

There were no gilded mirrors or crystal chandeliers up here; instead, the hallway was lined with soundproofed walls, encrypted computer terminals, and a security monitoring station that displayed live feeds of every perimeter gate, hallway, and courtyard on the estate.

When Mateo helped me carry my single duffel bag into the suite—a room larger than my entire apartment in the Loop—he looked at me with a mixture of awe and deep concern.

"You went from scrubbing floors to working the war room," Mateo muttered, setting my bag on the plush velvet bench at the foot of the bed. "Be careful, kid. Luca Moretti doesn't promote housekeepers to the inner circle unless he needs a shield or a pawn."

"He says Vanessa is using him to feed a federal prosecutor," I confessed quietly, locking the heavy oak door behind Mateo as he left. "The whole engagement is a corporate execution."

I spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, the purple bruise on my cheek throbbing in time with my racing thoughts. My seventy-four dollars in savings suddenly felt like a very small safety net. I was trapped inside a fortress with a mafia boss who used people like chess pieces, sharing a roof with a woman who was fully capable of murder to protect her family's secrets.

At 7:00 AM sharp, a discreet knock sounded at my door.

I opened it to find a fresh set of clothes—not the black-and-white maid's uniform, but a sharp charcoal pantsuit that fit my frame perfectly—along with a secure tablet.

Down in the private study, Luca was already seated behind his desk, reviewing digital manifests. He looked up as I entered, his eyes scanning my new attire with an unreadable expression.

" Sit," he commanded, gesturing to the chair opposite him.

I sat down, keeping my posture rigid. "What do you want me to do?"

"Vanessa thinks you're terrified and compliant," Luca said, sliding the tablet across the desk toward me. "She believes you're going to keep your head down, collect your final paycheck next week, and disappear quietly out of fear. We are going to use that assumption against her."

The screen lit up with a detailed financial audit of Bellini Logistics, cross-referenced with federal court filings and hidden offshore accounts.

"Her father, Salvatore Bellini, isn't just bleeding money," Luca continued, leaning forward. "He's bankrupt. The wedding isn't a merger; it's a hostile takeover. If they marry, Vanessa legally acquires twenty percent voting rights in Moretti Holdings, which she plans to hand over to Marcus Vance in exchange for immunity for her entire family."

"And you want me to help you stop her?" I asked, looking up from the tablet.

"I want you to get close to her," Luca said coldly. "She needs a new personal scheduler to replace the one she claims 'quit unexpectedly' yesterday. You're going to apply for the position. She’ll accept because she thinks you're easy to manipulate and already intimidated."

My breath hitched. "You want me to spy on her?"

Before Luca could answer, a soft chime echoed from the hallway intercom, followed by the crisp, melodic voice of Vanessa Bellini echoing through the private study speakers.

"Luca, darling? Are you awake? I came over to check on the seating chart, but your security detail wouldn't let me past the third-floor landing."