The Mafia Boss Woke Up After 49 Days In A Coma—And The First Word He Whispered Was My Toddler's Secret Name

Silence rushed back into the mansion, heavier than the thunder outside. The acrid smell of burnt cordite hung thick in the air. I sat on the floor, my arms trembling uncontrollably, the gun smoking in my trembling hands.

Matteo walked over to me. He sank down onto one knee, heedless of the agonizing pain in his healing chest. He gently placed his large, warm hand over mine, easing my white-knuckled fingers off the grip of the weapon and setting it safely aside on the rug.

""You took the shot,"" he whispered, his eyes wide with dark admiration. ""Most men would have frozen.""

""He was going to kill you,"" I sobbed, the adrenaline finally crashing into waves of pure shock. ""He was going to kill you, and then they would have found Poppy.""

""Nobody is touching Poppy,"" Matteo said softly. He reached out, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear from my cheek. His touch was shockingly gentle, the contrast between his lethal violence and his tenderness toward me making my chest ache. ""Nobody is touching either of you. Not while I draw breath.""

From inside the wardrobe, a small, sleepy voice piped up. ""Mommy? Was that thunder?""

Matteo looked toward the closet door, his expression softening instantly. ""Go to her, Nell.""

I scrambled into the closet, pulling Poppy into my arms. She buried her face in my shoulder, yawning sleepily. ""Mister is loud,"" she mumbled.

""Mister was just making sure the bad weather stayed outside, baby,"" I whispered, kissing her forehead.

Downstairs, heavy boots thundered through the entrance hall, followed by shouts in Italian. The cavalry had arrived. Marco’s men had swarmed the grounds, securing the perimeter and neutralizing the remaining mercenaries Dante had brought.

Moments later, Marco himself—a towering man with graying hair and an assault vest—stood in the bedroom doorway, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. He looked at Matteo, who was leaning against the wall, breathing heavily, and then at me holding the sleeping child.

Marco bowed his head in deep, solemn respect. ""Boss. Dante was caught trying to climb the rear sea wall. He’s in the cellar. What are your orders?""

Matteo straightened his posture, the merciless Don returning in an instant. ""Take him to the harbor warehouse. Keep him alive until dawn. He owes our family thirty pieces of silver, and I intend to collect every cent.""

He looked back at Poppy and me. ""And Marco?""