Chapter 1 - The Night The Mafia Boss Came Home
A maid dropped a blood-covered medical kit on the floor and whispered: "Mr. Romano... someone shot you."
When Damian Romano entered his third-floor study, he found a broken watch belonging to the missing man who had left Hazel Brooks with a $60,000 debt.
But inside the cracked watch was a tiny engraved number: "FR-17."
Damian suddenly realized this was not just an accident.
Hazel Brooks had learned one important rule during the six months she worked inside the Romano estate.
Never ask questions.
Questions got people noticed.
And people who got noticed inside Damian Romano’s world usually did not stay comfortable for long.
She was only the night maid.
That was what she reminded herself every time she walked through the silent halls of the mansion after midnight.
She cleaned rooms.
She organized the library.
She prepared coffee before sunrise.
She disappeared whenever Damian’s men entered the building.
That was how she survived.
Being invisible was safer.
Especially when the man who owned the house was known across Chicago as someone nobody wanted to disappoint.
Damian Romano was not the kind of man people argued with.
He was the kind of man people lowered their voices around.
The newspapers never printed his name without careful wording.
His employees never looked directly into his eyes for too long.
And his enemies learned quickly that threatening him was a mistake they rarely repeated.
Hazel never cared about any of that.
She had bigger problems.
Like the debt.
Like the phone calls.
Like the name Frankie Sullivan appearing every time she thought she was finally free.
She had spent the entire day working at a small diner before arriving at the Romano estate for her night shift.
Twenty-two hours awake.
Two jobs.
Almost no sleep.
And still not enough money.
Because her ex-boyfriend Wyatt had disappeared three months earlier and left behind paperwork with her signature on it.
Paperwork she barely understood.
Paperwork that somehow connected her to a debt she never created.
Sixty thousand dollars.
A number that felt impossible.
A number that followed her everywhere.
That night, Hazel was cleaning the third-floor study when she heard the front doors open.
She froze.
Damian was supposed to be in New York.
Everyone knew that.
His security team had mentioned it earlier.
The estate was supposed to be quiet.
But then she heard footsteps.
Slow.
Heavy.
Controlled.
Hazel placed the cleaning cloth down.
The study door opened.
And Damian Romano walked inside.
But something was wrong.
His expensive white shirt was soaked.
Not from rain.
From blood.
For one second, Hazel forgot every warning she had ever heard about him.
Because he looked less like the dangerous man everyone feared.
And more like someone who had been fighting alone for too long.
Damian looked at her.
Not his guards.
Not his employees.
Her.
"The medical kit."
His voice was calm.
Almost too calm.
Hazel stared.
"What?"
His eyes hardened slightly.
"The kit. Now."
She moved before she realized she was moving.
The medical supplies were stored in the cabinet near the desk.
Her fingers shook as she grabbed them.
When she turned around, Damian was already sitting on the leather sofa.
His expression had not changed.
Not once.
Hazel approached carefully.
"I’m not a doctor."
"I know."
"Then why me?"
"Because you are here."
The answer should have scared her.
Instead, somehow, it made her feel worse.
Because Damian Romano was a man surrounded by dozens of people.
And yet, at three seventeen in the morning, he had chosen the quiet maid standing in front of him.
Hazel opened the medical kit.
The wound was worse than she expected.
She tried not to react.
Damian noticed anyway.
"You are afraid."
She looked down.
"No."
"That was a lie."
Hazel swallowed.
She hated that he noticed everything.
"I’m just tired."
For the first time, something changed in his expression.
Not softness.
Not exactly.
Something closer to curiosity.
"You work too much."
She looked surprised.
"You noticed?"
"I notice everything."
Those four words stayed with her.
Because she suddenly wondered how much he already knew.
Hazel carefully wrapped the injury.
The room stayed silent except for the storm outside.
Then Damian spoke.
"Why did you react when my men mentioned Sullivan yesterday?"
Her hands stopped.
Only for a second.
But Damian saw it.
"I didn’t."
His eyes became colder.
"Do not lie to me."
Hazel looked away.
She should have stayed quiet.
She knew that.
But she was exhausted.
And afraid.
And maybe she was tired of carrying everything alone.
"Frankie Sullivan is looking for me."
Damian did not move.
"Why?"
"My ex-boyfriend borrowed money."
"Your ex?"
"Wyatt."
The name seemed to mean something.
Damian leaned forward slightly.
"And?"
Hazel forced herself to continue.
"He disappeared. Then Frankie said the debt became mine."
Silence.
"He knows where I live," Hazel whispered.
"Where you work."
She nodded.
"And he gave me until Friday."
The atmosphere changed.
Damian Romano had been calm before.
Now he was completely still.
"Someone will come," Hazel said softly.
Damian looked at her.
"You should have told someone."
"Who?"
"The police."
Hazel gave a small, humorless laugh.
"They already warned me to stay away."
His expression darkened.
"Why?"
"Because Frankie Sullivan has friends everywhere."
The storm outside grew louder.
Then Damian said something she never expected.
"Then tell me."
Hazel stared.
"What?"
"Tell me everything."
She looked at the man everyone feared.
The man who had just walked into his own house bleeding.
"You barely know I exist."
Damian’s eyes remained fixed on hers.
"I know now."
Hazel did not know why those words affected her.
Maybe because nobody had ever said them like that.
Not like she mattered.
Not like she was worth noticing.
She sat at the opposite end of the leather sofa.
Five feet between them.
She planned to stay there.
She really did.
But exhaustion was stronger than fear.
The sound of rain.
The warmth of the room.
The impossible safety she felt beside the one man she should have been afraid of.
Slowly, without realizing it, she moved closer.
Then closer.
Until her eyes closed.
At six in the morning, Hazel woke up.
And immediately realized something was wrong.
Her cheek was against Damian Romano’s chest.
One of her arms rested across his stomach.
And his arm was wrapped around her shoulders.
She froze.
Damian was already awake.
Hazel immediately pulled away.
"Oh my God. I am so sorry."
Damian watched her quietly.
"Am I fired?"
"No."
Before Hazel could say anything else, the study doors opened.
Damian’s security chief stepped inside.
He stopped.
Looked at the sofa.
Then looked away immediately.
"We have a problem."
Damian stood.
"What?"
The man’s expression changed when he looked at Hazel.
"Sullivan’s crew wasn’t near the estate because of New York."
Hazel felt her stomach tighten.
"They were looking for Miss Brooks."
The room became silent.
Damian’s face changed.
Not anger.
Something colder.
The security chief continued.
"And there is something else."
Damian stared at him.
"What?"
The man reached into his coat and placed a small damaged object on the desk.
Hazel recognized it instantly.
Because she had seen it before.
It belonged to Wyatt.
The security chief looked at Damian.
"He was never running away."
A pause.
"He was hiding something."
Damian picked up the broken watch.
Then slowly turned it over.
Because underneath the cracked metal was a message Hazel had never seen before.
May you like
And it only contained two words...
(Continued in next response)
