My Mafia Boss Found My Pregnancy Test — Now I’m Locked Inside His Fortress

Part 2

I gasped and grabbed his lapel.

I pleaded with him to wait, insisting he couldn’t just take me away.

He interrupted, telling me I belonged to the family now.

He announced I was moving to the Lake Forest estate, guarded twenty-four hours a day.

He decreed I would not drive, I would not work, and I would not leave his sight.

Within an hour, I was strapped into the back of a bulletproof SUV.

As the city skyline faded behind the sprawling iron-gated mansions of Lake Forest, I touched my stomach.

I realized with a chilling certainty that the real danger wasn’t rival mobs trying to kill the boss.

The real danger was the suffocating, inescapable cage Dan had just built around me.

The Lake Forest estate was a sprawling twenty-acre compound hidden behind wrought-iron gates.

To the outside world, it was a monument to old money.

To me, it was a gilded, high-security prison.

The transition from an invisible corporate drone to the heavily guarded incubator for the Valenti heir was brutal.

Dan completely stripped away my autonomy.

My sensible blazers were replaced with luxurious custom-tailored maternity dresses spun from Italian silk.

I was assigned a personal chef and a high-end obstetrician who made house calls.

Two massive bodyguards, Gary and Tyler, shadowed my every move.

Yet, for all the lavish treatment, Dan remained a phantom.

He visited late at night, his expensive suit smelling of cigar smoke and gunpowder.

He would place a heavy, possessive hand on my swelling stomach, asking if I needed anything, and then retreat to his study.

He treated me like a priceless artifact, terrified I would crack, but he refused to let me back into the loop of the syndicate.

By late April, I was five months pregnant and losing my mind.

We were sitting in the cavernous formal dining room one evening when I begged him for something to do.

I offered to look over the waterfront acquisition files, reminding him I knew the shell companies better than his new assistant.

Dan didn’t look up from his steak.

He ordered me to rest, claiming the stress wasn’t good for the baby.

Boredom was going to kill me faster than stress.

A sudden spark of defiance cut through my usual submission.

I told him I was fat, not brain dead, and that I had managed his criminal empire for four years.

I demanded he stop relegating me to a helpless broodmare.

He finally looked up, his dark eyes narrowing.

The sheer disrespect would have gotten any of his capos shot.

Coming from me, my round cheeks flushed with anger, it ignited a fierce heat in his chest.

He told me to plan the nursery and forbade me from syndicate business.

But I wasn’t one to simply obey.

If I couldn’t manage his legitimate fronts, I would manage my new environment.

The estate was governed by a complex web of logistics, security rotations, and deliveries.

To pass the time, I started doing what I did best.

I analyzed patterns.

I persuaded a young guard to leave an iPad unlocked so I could order specific pastries.

Instead, I quietly accessed the estate’s internal network.

Within two weeks, my sharp administrative eye caught a terrifying discrepancy.

Every Thursday, a private waste disposal truck serviced the compound.

According to the encrypted server logs, the security cameras on the west gate experienced a rolling sixty-second blackout exactly when that truck arrived.

The guard rotation for that specific hour was always shifted, placing two rookies at the gate.

Someone inside the house was orchestrating a blind spot.

I cross-referenced the active IP addresses on the guest network.

I traced the administrative overrides back to a specific device belonging to Dan’s sister-in-law, Heather Valenti.

Heather was an icy socialite who lived in the guest house and viewed me with unconcealed disgust.

She had expected her teenage son to eventually take over the syndicate.

My baby was a direct threat to her bloodline’s claim to the throne.

It was Thursday, and the clock was ticking down to three o’clock.

I knew exactly what Heather was about to do, but would Dan ever listen to his fat, captive secretary before the gates blew wide open?