They Called Me His Maid—But When the Mafia Boss Ran Into the ICU, He Learned I Had Been Protecting Him From His Own Men

ceiling. White lights. White blanket. A machine beeped beside me like it was counting down how many chances I had left. My throat hurt too much to speak. My arm was wrapped. My ribs burned with every breath. Through the ICU’s glass wall, I saw Victor Callaway standing outside, soaked from the rain, looking less like a boss and more like a man who’d continue reading …