“I May Not Be the Woman You’d Choose, but I Can Love Your Children,” She Told the Mafia Boss

Madeline felt the blood drain from her face. Her grip on the cheap smartphone tightened until her knuckles turned chalk white.

Adrian’s sharp eyes caught every micro-expression. He reached out, his large, calloused fingers closing firmly around hers, and plucked the phone from her grasp before she could lock the screen.

“Give that back!” Madeline hissed, reaching for it.

Adrian held it out of her reach with effortless strength, his eyes scanning the glowing screen. A terrifying stillness settled over him. It was a cold, predatory quiet—the silence of a tiger choosing the exact vertebrae to crush.

“Julian Vance,” Adrian said softly, his voice devoid of any warmth.

Lucian, who was still leaning against the doorframe, straightened up immediately, his eyes narrowing. “Julian Vance? The boy running the Vance syndicate’s financial front? What does he have to do with the nanny?”

Adrian handed the phone back to Madeline, but his gaze remained locked on her face, peeling away her defenses layer by layer.

“My office. Now,” Adrian commanded.

Madeline turned to the children. Leo and Mia were watching wide-eyed, the tension in the room palpable. She forced a warm, reassuring smile. “Eat your pancakes, sweethearts. Mrs. Gable will get you some fresh fruit. I’ll be right back.”

Dante watched her with dark, calculating eyes as she walked away.

Madeline followed Adrian down the long, wood-paneled hallway into his private study. It was a fortress of a room: floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined with rare leather-bound volumes, a massive mahogany desk, and bulletproof glass overlooking the crashing waves of the sound.

Adrian shut the heavy doors and locked them with a heavy brass bolt. He didn't sit behind his desk. He walked straight toward her, stopping barely an arm’s length away.

“Explain,” he said.

Madeline took a deep, steadying breath. She had spent years running from her humiliation, burying the shame that Julian Vance had carved into her soul. But looking at Adrian Valenti, she realized that lies in this house were a death sentence.

“Julian Vance was my fiancé,” she said, her voice shaking slightly before leveling into rock-solid resolve. “Four years ago. Before he entered the syndicate. Back then, he was an ambitious financial analyst, and I was a naive preschool teacher who thought love was enough.”

Adrian remained motionless, listening.

“He proposed to me with a ring bought using my savings,” Madeline continued, a bitter edge entering her tone. “Then he met a girl from an elite family—someone skinny, polished, with connections to old money. He took my life savings, signed over the lease of our apartment to his company, and threw me out. His last words to me were that women like me are built for the shadows, not the spotlight.”

Adrian’s jaw muscles flexed, a terrifying muscle twitching beneath his scarred cheek. “And now?”

“I haven't spoken to him in three years,” Madeline said, holding Adrian’s cold gaze without flinching. “I didn't know he was tied to your world. But he saw me yesterday when I arrived for the interview. He thinks I’m weak. He thinks he can blackmail me into being his mole inside your house.”

“And are you?” Adrian’s voice was barely a whisper. “A mole, Miss Brooks?”

Madeline stepped forward, closing the distance between them until she was inches from his broad chest. “If I wanted to hurt your children, Mr. Valenti, I wouldn't have stood in front of them last night when your perimeter was breached. You can fire me. You can throw me back onto the streets. But do not ever insult my love for those kids. They have done nothing to deserve this war.”

For five excruciating seconds, neither of them moved. The air between them was electric, thick with an unspoken, dangerous chemistry that had nothing to do with employer and employee.

Adrian looked at her—really looked at her. He saw the fire in her eyes, the proud curve of her chin, the absolute authenticity of a woman who had been dragged through hell and refused to let it turn her heart to stone.

“He called you pathetic,” Adrian murmured, his voice suddenly thick, a strange darkness flickering in his eyes.

“It doesn't matter what he called me.”

“It matters to me,” Adrian said, his voice dropping into a lethal, possessive cadence that sent shivers racing down Madeline’s spine. “Julian Vance thinks he can threaten what belongs under my protection. He thinks he can use you to bleed my empire.”

Adrian walked over to his desk and pressed the intercom. “Lucian. Get in here.”

The door unlocked, and Lucian stepped inside, a curious smirk playing on his lips. “What’s the verdict, cousin? Do we put the nanny in the harbor?”

“No,” Adrian said coldly. “We accept Vance’s invitation to the annual charity gala at the Plaza tomorrow night.”

Lucian blinked, stunned. “The Plaza? Adrian, the entire Five Families will be there. The police commissioner, the federal judges. Vance is hosting it to flaunt his syndicate's rise.”

“I know,” Adrian said, turning his gaze back to Madeline, his eyes burning with an intense, unreadable fire. “And Miss Brooks will be attending as my date.”

Madeline choked on her breath. “What? No! Mr. Valenti, I am a nanny! I don't belong at a society gala! People will laugh—”

“Let them laugh,” Adrian interrupted, stepping close to her again, his gaze commanding and relentless. “Tomorrow night, Madeline, the entire city will watch Julian Vance realize that the woman he threw away is the only woman Adrian Valenti permits by his side. Now let Mrs. Gable take you into town. Buy the most expensive gown in Manhattan. And put it on my tab.”

Before Madeline could protest, a frantic knock battered the study doors.

The head of estate security burst in, his face ash-white.