Trapped by the Mafia Don: Carrying His Secret Heir

Helena retreated with a furious clatter of heels, leaving an electric tension vibrating in the master suite. Dominic closed the door behind her and walked straight toward me, his hands finding my waist and pulling me into his chest.

"You defended yourself beautifully," he murmured against my hairline.

"She wanted to buy my baby, Dominic," I said, my voice shaking with delayed adrenaline. "She wanted me to vanish."

"No one touches you. Not my mother, not Victor Raines, not God Himself," he promised, his voice absolute. "Which is why tonight, we make it official to the entire underworld."

The annual Midwinter Syndicate Gala was held at the historic Drake Hotel on Michigan Avenue. It was the only night of the year when every faction of Chicago’s organized crime gathered in an uneasy truce to toast the city's corrupt officials and distribute territorial revenue.

Dominic bought me a bespoke emerald gown that draped gracefully over my abdomen, hiding the barely perceptible swell while highlighting my collarbones. A collar of emeralds and diamonds clasped around my throat—a declaration that I belonged to the house of Bellano.

When the double doors opened and Dominic walked in with my arm looped through his, the entire ballroom went dead silent. The jazz band stumbled over their chords. Billionaires, corrupt aldermen, and seasoned capos stopped their conversations, staring in stunned disbelief at the woman who had been taking their meeting notes just two weeks prior.

"Keep your head high, Penny," Dominic whispered, pressing a hand against the small of my back. "You outclass every person in this room."

Whispers rippled like wildfire through the crowd.

*Is that the secretary?*

*Look at the ring on her left hand.*

*She’s carrying his heir.*

Before we could reach the VIP lounge, the crowd parted. Victor Raines stepped forward, flanked by four imposing enforcers. Unlike Dominic, whose elegance was refined, Raines looked like an apex brawler stuffed into an Italian tuxedo. His scarred face twisted into a sickening grin as his eyes raked down my body, lingering deliberately on my waist.

"Dominic," Raines purred, lifting a glass of champagne. "Congratulations. I see you finally made an honest woman out of your little assistant. Tell me, Penny... did he tell you what happened to the last woman who carried a Bellano child?"

Dominic didn’t flinch, but the muscles along his jaw tightened into cords of iron. "Walk away, Victor. While you still have the legs to do it."

"His older brother's fiancée," Raines continued smoothly, ignoring Dominic and speaking directly to me, weaponizing his words like poison. "Ten years ago. A car bomb on Lake Shore Drive. Took her, the baby, and three city blocks. Being near this man isn't protection, sweet girl. It’s a death sentence."

Panic surged up my throat, cold and suffocating. The room seemed to narrow down to Raines's malicious sneer. I looked at Dominic, searching his face for a denial, but I found only a harrowing, ancient shadow of guilt that confirmed the truth.

Before Dominic could draw the weapon hidden beneath his tailored jacket, a sudden crash echoed from the hotel balcony. The massive crystal chandeliers overhead shattered in a hail of automatic gunfire, plunging the ballroom into sheer pandemonium.