The Maid Who Dared the Boss

Vivian wasn't just fast; she was fueled by absolute desperation. Her family’s shipping empire was on the verge of bankruptcy, and only full control over Isabella’s multi-million-dollar medical trust—signed over via incapacitation power of attorney—could save them.

Before Naomi could dodge, Vivian grabbed the lapels of Naomi’s service uniform and violently ripped the fabric. With terrifying malice, Vivian grabbed Isabella’s limp, ink-stained hand, clawing the elderly woman's fingernails down the torn cotton of Naomi’s sleeve to leave dark black smudges as forced defensive evidence. Then Vivian threw herself backward onto the floor, scattering the legal papers across Naomi’s feet, and let out a blood-curdling shriek.

“Help! Security! She’s attacking us!” Vivian sobbed, curling into a theatrical ball.

Heavy boots thudded down the hallway. Three armed Moretti security guards burst into the room, guns drawn, their eyes widening at the chaotic tableau: Isabella weeping on the floor, Vivian sobbing hysterically, and Naomi standing frozen in the middle with a torn uniform and ink on her shoes.

“She attacked Isabella!” Vivian cried, pointing a trembling finger at Naomi. “She tried to steal the trust documents and beat us both!”

Naomi stared down at Vivian, astounded by the sheer, cold-blooded speed of the frame-up. “Are you insane?” Naomi said, her voice shaking with rage. “She forged—!”

SLAM.

The mansion doors downstairs rattled the windows of the entire east wing. The heavy, unmistakable footfall of Luca Moretti echoed across the marble foyer, followed by a voice that could make rival bosses bleed from a whisper.

“Where is my mother?!”

Seconds later, Luca appeared in the doorway. He didn't look like a businessman; he looked like a predator smelling blood in the water. His dark overcoat was unbuttoned, his tie slightly loosened, and his eyes burned like live coals as they swept the room.

He saw his bruised mother on the floor.

He saw his crying fiancée cowering against the wall.