THE MAFIA BOSS FOUND A STARVING MOTHER ON HIS RESTAURANT FLOOR—THEN DISCOVERED WHO STOLE HER BABY'S FUTURE

"Then what is it?" I demanded.

Ethan didn't answer immediately. He stepped closer to the kitchen light, studying the faint gray print at the bottom of the page. Sam squirmed against my shoulder, impatient and hungry, and I felt anger rising through my exhaustion.

"You don't get to walk into my apartment and turn everything into a mystery," I said. "Tell me what I'm holding."

He looked up. "It's a routing reference. The kind used to track money between companies."

"So?"

"So this number belongs to a holding company that shouldn't have any connection to your wages."

I wanted to laugh. Three hundred dollars had brought me into a restaurant I couldn't afford, then into a black SUV with a man I feared. Now he was talking about holding companies while my son needed dinner.

"Does that mean Gregory will pay me?"

"It means I need to find out what he used your name for."

My grip tightened on Sam. "My name?"

"Possibly. I don't know yet."

He said it carefully, without pretending certainty. That should have reassured me. Instead, it made the room feel colder.

A knock sounded at the door. I flinched.

"It's my driver," Ethan said. "Formula and groceries."

He waited for my permission before opening it. A man brought in two paper bags and a sealed container of infant formula. I checked the brand and expiration date twice. Ethan noticed, but said nothing.

I made Sam a bottle with water from the filtered pitcher, testing a drop on my wrist the way I always did. He drank so eagerly that I had to pause him halfway through. I sat on the couch, his little hand curled around my finger, and watched Ethan move toward the window.

"Do you have family nearby?" he asked.

"No."

"Friends?"

"A woman from the clinic. She has three kids of her own."

"Anyone who might help if you needed a safe place for a night?"

I set the bottle down. "Why would I need that?"

Ethan didn't turn around. "Because a car has passed this building three times since we arrived."

My skin prickled.

"Maybe someone lives here."

"Maybe."

I hated the way he said it.

His phone rang. He answered in a low voice. "Tell me."

I could hear a man speaking rapidly but couldn't make out the words. Ethan's expression grew darker.

"No one touches him," he said. "I want the records first. And pull the security footage from the service entrance."

He ended the call.

"Gregory?" I asked.

"He left the restaurant through the loading dock."

"You said he was staying."

"He found a way out."

"Then why would he come here?"

"I don't know that he will. But I won't gamble with your son's safety."

Sam finished his bottle and fell asleep with milk on his lower lip. I laid him in his crib, then came back to find Ethan studying the overdue notice taped to my refrigerator. My pride flared.

"Please don't read my bills."

He stepped away immediately. "You're right. I'm sorry."

The apology surprised me. Men who owned restaurants and commanded bodyguards didn't usually apologize to women who mopped floors.

"What exactly do you want from me?" I asked.

"Your messages from Gregory, if you choose to share them. And permission to have an independent payroll auditor check whether your information was misused."

"And what do I get?"

"Your wages, whether you help or not. You earned them."

"That isn't a favor."

"No," he said. "It's a debt."

I showed him the text messages on my phone. Gregory had promised three hundred dollars for a month of overnight cleaning, then written that I was no longer needed. In the last exchange, he'd told me to stop asking questions unless I wanted trouble.

Ethan photographed the messages with my permission. He read the final threat again.

"Has he threatened you in person?"

I remembered a hand slamming against the freezer door beside my head.

"He said nobody would believe a woman like me over a manager like him."

"He was wrong."

The certainty in Ethan's voice made my throat tighten. I didn't want him to see it.

A minute later, the lights went out.

The refrigerator stopped humming. The apartment plunged into darkness, broken only by a streetlamp leaking through the curtains.

"Power cuts happen," I whispered.

Ethan had already moved toward the door. "Stay with Sam."

"Don't order me around."

"Then please stay with Sam."

He spoke into his phone. Footsteps sounded in the hall, followed by a sharp metallic crash downstairs. I ran to the crib and lifted Sam, who startled awake and began to cry.

From outside came a man's shout. Then another.

I backed against the wall, holding my son close. A thousand terrible possibilities crowded my mind. Had Gregory come for the paper? Had Ethan brought danger to my door? Had I been foolish enough to believe the man who offered me a sandwich?

The apartment door opened. Ethan stepped inside with one of his guards.

"We're leaving," he said.

"What happened?"

"Someone cut power to the building at the exterior panel. A man was seen running from the alley."

"Was it Gregory?"

"We couldn't identify him."

"Where are you taking us?"

"A hotel with security. You choose the room, and you keep the key."

"I can't afford a hotel."

"You won't be charged."

I shook my head. "I can't keep accepting things from you."

Ethan looked at Sam's frightened face. "Then call it a temporary safety arrangement. Tomorrow you can decide what comes next."

I stood motionless. I wanted to refuse. I wanted to close the door on this strange man and return to the life I understood, even if that life had become a long series of overdue notices.

Then Sam coughed against my shoulder, and I felt the cold air pouring through the unheated room.

"One night," I said.

"One night," Ethan agreed.

I packed diapers, two sleepers, my wallet, and Sam's stuffed rabbit. At the door, Ethan offered to carry the bag. I kept it.

We descended the dark stairwell with a flashlight leading the way. At the bottom, I saw shattered glass near the building's front entrance. A security guard stood beside the damaged electrical cabinet.

Outside, the black SUV waited with its rear door open.

As I climbed in, my phone buzzed.

An unknown number had sent a photograph.

It showed Sam asleep in his crib.

Taken from outside our window.