The Clumsy Maid Took a Blow Meant for a Mafia Queen, and What Her Son Did Next Terrified Everyone

She could lie. She could mumble something about tripping over her own feet, spilling the tray, and getting caught in the crossfire. It would save her job. It would keep her paycheck secure for her father’s next dialysis treatment. It would let her fade back into the background noise of the mansion where she belonged.

She looked past Dominic’s broad shoulder and saw Carmela watching her with wide, terrified, hopeful eyes—eyes that trusted her completely.

Then she looked at Bianca, whose face was twisted into a mask of smug, arrogant certainty, daring the maid to contradict her.

“Yes, Mr. Rossi,” Skylar said, her voice shaking slightly but carrying a quiet, unshakable dignity that surprised even herself. “Mrs. Moretti was... she was aiming for your mother. I stepped in the way.”

Bianca let out a shrill, theatrical gasp.

“She is lying! Dominic, are you seriously going to take the word of a clumsy, overweight maid over your future wife?” Bianca stepped forward, her voice rising in panic. “The girl drops everything she touches! She’s unstable! Everyone downstairs says she’s half-blind and incompetent!”

Dominic slowly stood up to his full height, towering over Bianca.

He didn't raise his voice. He didn't yell.

“Quiet, Bianca,” he said softly.

The command was so absolute that Bianca snapped her mouth shut, though her chest heaved with suppressed fury.

Dominic turned to his head of security, a hulking man named Dante who stood near the doors.

“Dante. Pull the security footage from the conservatory cameras for the last ten minutes. Send it directly to my private tablet. Sound and video.”

Bianca’s face went from pale to chalk-white in a microsecond.

“Dominic, there’s no need to pore over grainy cameras just because a hysterical old woman and an incompetent servant are spinning a fairy tale—”

“If my mother is deteriorating and needs a care facility, I want to know,” Dominic interrupted smoothly, cutting through her protests like a razor. “And if my future wife just lied to my face and assaulted a member of my household staff, I want to know that as well.”

He looked down at Skylar, who was still kneeling awkwardly on the marble floor, pressing his linen handkerchief to her bleeding face.

“Dante,” Dominic commanded without breaking eye contact with Skylar. “Have Dr. Vance come up from the west wing immediately to treat Miss Gallagher’s face. And bring her a fresh glass of water.”

“Yes, Mr. Rossi,” Dante replied, bowing his head slightly before turning on his heel.

Bianca stood frozen, her hands trembling at her sides as she realized the trap she had walked into. The Rossi estate security network didn't have blind spots—not even in the private conservatories. Every inch of this estate was monitored, recorded, and archived behind military-grade firewalls.

Dominic offered his hand down toward Skylar.

Skylar stared at the large, powerful hand extended toward her. It was a hand that signed multi-million dollar shipping contracts, authorized high-stakes acquisitions, and held the reins of a vast criminal empire.

Hesitantly, she placed her warm, trembling hand into his.

With effortless strength, Dominic hoisted her up to her feet, steadying her when her knees wobbled slightly from the shock and the sudden drop in blood pressure.

“Can you walk?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, Mr. Rossi. Thank you,” she muttered, keeping her eyes cast downward, acutely aware of the expensive silk of his suit and her own cheap, stained maid’s uniform.

“You’re not staying in the servants’ quarters tonight,” Dominic stated flatly, turning to his mother, who was clutching her handkerchief and breathing heavily. “Mother, go with Mrs. Gable to the drawing room. Dr. Vance will check your blood pressure as well.”