Part 2: The Maid Called the Mafia Boss and Whispered, “Come Home—Your Mother Is Being Hurt”… Then He Claimed Her Before the Entire City

The silence in the grand music room was suffocating.

Luca Moretti stood in the archway, his dark cashmere coat trailing the icy chill of the city outside. His presence alone seemed to drop the room’s temperature by twenty degrees. Behind him, two armed guards waited like stone sentinels, their hands hovering over concealed holsters.

Vivian wept softly, dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief, looking every bit the traumatized future bride. "She lost her temper, Luca," Vivian sobbed, her voice trembling with manufactured distress. "I caught her stealing silverware from the buffet cabinet. When your mother tried to stop her, Naomi pushed her! She even tried to force Isabella’s hand onto these papers to steal her trust funds! Look at your mother—she’s terrified! She’s pointing right at her!"

Isabella’s trembling hand remained outstretched toward Naomi.

Naomi didn’t move. Her torn sleeve hung loose, exposing scratched skin, but her chin remained lifted. She knew the reputation of the man staring at her. Luca Moretti was ruthless, calculating, and unforgiving to anyone who touched what belonged to him. If he believed Vivian, Naomi would not leave this mansion alive.

Luca took two slow, measured steps into the room. His polished leather shoes clicked against the hardwood floor with ominous rhythm. He didn't look at Vivian. He didn't look at the scattered legal documents. His intense, amber-flecked eyes locked squarely onto Naomi.

"Is this true?" Luca’s voice was dangerously low, a velvet threat.

"No, Mr. Moretti," Naomi answered, her voice clear and remarkably steady despite the pounding in her chest. "Check your mother’s thumb. Then check Vivian’s fingers."

Vivian stiffened. "Luca, don't listen to her! She’s trying to deflect—"

Luca raised a single finger, and Vivian snapped her mouth shut. He knelt beside his mother’s wheelchair. Isabella’s breathing was shallow, her eyes filled with frustration and pain. Luca gently took his mother's weathered hand. The pad of her thumb was stained with fresh, thick black ink.

Then Luca glanced sideways at Vivian. Vivian was clutching her designer purse, her hands curled into tight fists.

"Show me your hands, Vivian," Luca commanded softly.

"What? Luca, I am your fiancée!"

"Open your hands."

Reluctantly, Vivian unfolded her fingers. On the inner knuckle of her right index finger, a smudge of dark ink smeared against pale skin.

A deadly stillness settled over the room.

Luca didn't shout. He rose to his feet, towering over both women. Instead of speaking, he walked toward the grand Steinway piano sitting in the corner. He looked at Isabella.

"Mother," Luca murmured, his tone softening into something deeply reverent. "Can you answer me?"

Isabella’s eyes flickered toward Naomi, then back to Luca.

Naomi stepped forward, braving the guards' sudden movement. "Mr. Moretti, your mother cannot speak right now, but she understands everything. Low note means yes. High note means no. She knows the piano."

Vivian gasped in mockery. "Are you insane? You're playing children's games while she's injured!"

Luca ignored Vivian. He gently wheeled Isabella’s chair closer to the ivory keys. He rested his mother’s uninjured left hand on the board.

"Mother," Luca whispered, his jaw clenched tight. "Did Naomi hurt you?"

Isabella’s fingers pressed down firmly on the highest C key.

*Clang.* A sharp, piercing high note rang through the high-ceilinged room.

*No.*

Vivian’s face drained of all color.

Luca’s gaze darkened into midnight. He leaned closer. "Did Vivian touch you?"

Isabella didn't hesitate. With all the strength left in her frail body, she struck the lowest key on the bass side.

*Bong.* A deep, resounding, thunderous boom echoed off the marble walls.

*Yes.*

Luca closed his eyes for a fraction of a second. When he opened them, the man kneeling before his mother was gone. In his place stood the merciless Don of the Moretti family.