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

glass, one sentence repeating in his head.

The bomb was real.

It had been planted beneath his armored SUV with professional precision. Not sloppy. Not rushed. Not the work of an angry amateur after too many drinks and a bad idea. It was clean, compact, engineered to detonate on the second ignition cycle.

The man behind it was Marcus Reed, Victor’s own continue reading …