The mafia king’s secret baby

Elena's pov The dismissal letter was still on my desk when the last person in the office switched off the lights and left. I sat there staring at the piece of paper in front of me, unable to bring myself to touch it again. I had already read it so many times that I knew every word by heart, yet some stubborn part of me kept hoping that if I looked at it one more time, the words would somehow change. They didn't. Termination of Employment. Four years of my life had been reduced to two words. I leaned back in my chair and let out a slow breath, trying to hold myself together. I had spent the entire afternoon convincing myself that everything would be fine, but now that the office was quiet and there was no one left to pretend in front of, the weight of what had happened finally settled over me. I had worked harder than anyone in that department. I had stayed late when my colleagues left early, covered shifts that weren't mine, answered calls during weekends, and done everything my manager asked of me. None of it mattered because someone had decided that blaming me was easier than admitting the truth. My eyes burned, but I refused to cry again. I had cried enough in my manager's office that afternoon. I had cried in the restroom afterward, standing in front of the mirror and wondering how quickly a person's life could fall apart. I wasn't going to give the office another tear. I folded the letter carefully and placed it inside my handbag before gathering the few personal things from my desk. My hands paused over the little plant beside my computer. It was almost dead when I brought it to work two years ago, and somehow I had managed to keep it alive. I smiled bitterly as I touched one of its leaves. Maybe I should have taken better care of myself instead. When I finally walked out of the building, the evening air felt cooler than usual. Cars moved along the busy street, their headlights cutting through the growing darkness, while people hurried past me without a second glance. I stood outside for several minutes with my handbag hanging from my shoulder, wondering where I was supposed to go. Home was the obvious answer, but the thought of going there made my stomach twist. My father would ask why I had been fired. My stepmother would pretend to be concerned while quietly enjoying my misfortune, and Victoria would probably find a way to remind me that this was what happened when someone wasn't capable of keeping up with people better than them. I could already hear her voice in my head, sweet and polished and filled with the kind of pity that somehow felt worse than an insult. I couldn't face them tonight. For once, I didn't want to explain myself to anyone. I didn't want to defend my actions or listen to someone tell me what I had done wrong. I wanted to forget that tomorrow existed. That was how I ended up walking into a nightclub several hours later, despite knowing that I had never been the kind of woman who belonged in places like that. The music was loud enough to vibrate through my chest, and the room was crowded with people laughing, dancing, and drinking as though none of them had a single problem waiting for them outside those doors. I made my way to the bar and took the empty seat at the far end. The bartender looked at me expectantly. "What can I get you?" I hesitated for a moment before ordering a drink I had never tried before. He poured it and slid the glass toward me, and I stared at it as though it were some kind of challenge. I wasn't a heavy drinker. In fact, I barely drank at all. But tonight wasn't about being sensible. I took the first sip and immediately regretted it when the alcohol burned down my throat. The bartender noticed my expression and laughed. "First time?" "Is it that obvious?" I asked, coughing softly. "A little." I rolled my eyes and took another sip, this time more carefully. "Then don't watch me." He laughed again before moving on to another customer. I remained at the bar, slowly drinking as the tension inside me began to loosen. One glass became two, and before long, the sharpness of the day started fading into the background. I wasn't thinking about my job anymore. I wasn't thinking about my family or the bills I would have to worry about now. For the first time since that afternoon, my mind was quiet. Across the room, a man sitting in the private section had noticed me. Lorenzo De Luca wasn't the kind of man who usually paid attention to strangers. He had spent most of the evening dealing with business matters, his phone constantly lighting up with messages that required immediate attention. The club was only a meeting place, somewhere private enough to speak without unwanted ears nearby. He was used to people knowing who he was. He was used to women approaching him. He was used to being watched. The woman at the bar, however, seemed completely unaware of his existence. She wasn't trying to attract anyone's attention. She wasn't laughing loudly or looking around to see who was watching her. She simply sat there with a drink in her hand and an expression that suggested she would rather be anywhere else. Lorenzo's gaze remained on her for a moment longer than it should have before he looked away. His phone vibrated. He picked it up and read the message that had just arrived. The Rose family has made another move. His expression hardened immediately. "Find out what they're planning," he said to the man beside him. "Tonight?" "Tonight." The man nodded and left without another question. Lorenzo slipped his phone back into his pocket, but when he looked toward the bar again, his eyes found me almost immediately. I hadn't noticed him. I was too busy staring into my glass and wondering how my life had managed to become such a mess. By the time I finished my third drink, my body had become pleasantly warm, and the music didn't seem quite as overwhelming as it had when I first arrived. I smiled to myself, almost amused by how easily I had allowed alcohol to become my escape. "This is a terrible idea," I murmured. The bartender glanced in my direction. "You're the one who ordered another." I looked at the glass in my hand and shrugged. "Then I suppose I'm committed." He shook his head with a laugh, and I couldn't help smiling. Maybe tonight wasn't so bad after all. I stayed there for another few minutes before deciding it was time to leave. I placed some money on the counter and pushed myself off the stool. The moment I stood, the room tilted. I grabbed the edge of the bar and waited until everything settled again. "Okay," I whispered to myself. "Maybe I've had enough." I took a careful step, then another. I was almost away from the bar when my heel caught against something on the floor. My balance disappeared so quickly that I barely had time to react. I expected to hit the floor. Instead, a strong arm caught me around the waist. I froze. The first thing I noticed was the scent. Something clean and expensive, mixed with a warmth I couldn't quite place. Then I became aware of the hard chest beneath my palms and the firm hand holding me securely against him. Slowly, I lifted my head. The stranger looking down at me was unlike anyone I had ever seen. He was tall, dressed in a perfectly fitted black suit, with dark hair and an expression so controlled that it was almost intimidating. His eyes were the darkest shade of brown I had ever seen, and there was something about the way he looked at me that made me suddenly aware of how close we were. For several seconds, neither of us spoke. Then I cleared my throat. "I'm sorry." His gaze remained fixed on my face. "You're drunk." I frowned. "I know." "You can barely stand." "I can stand." As if the universe wanted to embarrass me, my foot slipped again. His arm tightened around my waist before I could fall. I looked up at him, annoyed despite the fact that he had just stopped me from embarrassing myself in front of everyone. "Okay," I admitted reluctantly. "Maybe I can't stand very well." For the first time, something changed in his expression. It wasn't quite a smile, but there was a faint trace of amusement in his eyes. I didn't know why that tiny reaction made my heart beat faster. I placed my hands against his chest and tried to straighten myself. "You can let me go now." He studied me for another second before slowly releasing me. The moment I stepped away, I felt strangely cold. I adjusted my dress and avoided his eyes, suddenly embarrassed by the entire situation. "Thank you." I turned to leave. "Wait." His voice stopped me. I looked over my shoulder. He was still standing exactly where I had left him, watching me with an expression I couldn't read. "What's your name?" I hesitated. I didn't know why he wanted to know. I didn't know anything about him, and I certainly wasn't planning to make a habit of meeting strange men in nightclubs. Still, something about his voice made me answer. "Elena." His eyes remained on mine. "Elena what?" I should have walked away. Instead, I gave him my surname. "Elena Rose." For a brief second, something unreadable crossed his face. Then it disappeared. I didn't notice. I simply turned and walked away, unaware that the name I had just given him meant far more to him than it did to me. And I certainly didn't know that the stranger I had just met was Lorenzo De Luca—the man my family had spent years trying to stay away from. That night, I thought I was escaping my problems. I had no idea I was walking directly into the biggest one of my life.