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THE MAFIA BOSS’S TRIPLETS HAD NEVER SPOKEN UNTIL A WAITRESS WALKED PAST THEIR TABLE AND THEY CALLED HER MOM / Chapter 5 / 6

Chapter 5 - The Laboratory of Lies

They escaped in an unremarkable, dented sedan hidden in a sub-basement garage that even Viktor’s spies didn't know about. Roman drove, his hands tight on the steering wheel, his knuckles white. Pamela sat in the back, the three babies huddled tightly against her body, finally quieted by her presence.

"We aren't going to Pier 4," Roman said quietly, looking at her through the rearview mirror. "Viktor wants us to think he's there. But my trackers just located Dr. Vance’s cell phone signal. It wasn't taken to the shipping yards. It's at a private facility off Route 41."

"What kind of facility?" Pamela asked, kissing the top of her daughter's head.

"An abandoned fertility clinic owned by the Vance family," Roman replied, his eyes dark with a brewing storm. "The place where this nightmare likely started."

An hour later, the car pulled up to a bleak, concrete structure hidden behind overgrown weeds. The front doors had been forced open.

Roman entered first, weapon drawn, Donovan and two remaining loyal guards flanking them. Pamela refused to stay in the car; she held the babies close, wrapped in a heavy blanket.

The interior of the clinic smelled of mold and chemical rot. They followed the sound of faint groans down a long, sterile corridor until they reached a room labeled Embryology Lab.

Inside, Dr. Arthur Vance was tied to a steel surgical table. He was bruised, his breathing shallow. But Viktor Voss wasn't there. Instead, standing over him with a laptop, was someone Pamela never expected to see.

It was Paul Granger. The manager of Bella Rosa Trattoria.

Pamela gasped, stepping back. "Paul?"

The manager looked up, a sinister, twisted smile spreading across his face. He wasn't wearing his cheap restaurant apron anymore. He wore an expensive wool coat, and he held a gun pointed directly at Dr. Vance's head.

"Hello, Pamela," Paul said, his voice smooth, completely devoid of the nervous stutter he used at the restaurant. "Did you really think it was a coincidence that you got hired at Bella Rosa eleven months ago? Right around the time Isabella Voss started looking for a way out of her marriage?"

Roman’s eyes narrowed into slits. "You work for Viktor."

"No, Mr. Voss," Paul chuckled, shaking his head. "Viktor works for me. Or rather, he thinks he does. Viktor is a fool who wants a throne. I’m a businessman who handles... logistics. I managed the transfer of your children from this pathetic woman to your late wife. But Isabella got greedy. She wanted to run away with the babies and blackmail you for half the Voss empire. So, I had to arrange a little car accident for her."

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The ink on the emergency audit report was barely dry when the secure terminal on my desk flashed a violent crimson. I hadn't slept in thirty-six hours, my eyes burning from staring at columns of ghost figures, duplicate invoices, and shell corporations linked to Dominic Rossi. But the red alert wasn’t from Rossi’s faction. It was an internal security flag originating from the estate’s main vault deep beneath the west wing.

The ink on the emergency audit report was barely dry when the secure ter...

The glass shattered into a thousand tiny diamonds on the marble, scattering the light from the chandeliers. The muffled laughter died instantly, replaced by a suffocating, heavy silence that crept outward from the grand staircase.

The glass shattered into a thousand tiny diamonds on the marble, scatter...

The heavy oak doors of my private study clicked shut behind us, locking out the clinical, terrifying silence of the kitchen. Evelyn Crane stood stiffly in front of my mahogany desk, her hands folded over her apron with the rigid precision of someone who had spent decades micromanaging every square inch of my estate. Behind her, Norah hovered near the doorway, clutching her clipboard like a shield.

The heavy oak doors of my private study clicked shut behind us, locking...

Pamela felt the room spinning. "You... you took my babies. You watched me grieve for fourteen months!"

"And you did it so beautifully, Penny," Paul mocked. "But then you just had to let the babies see you tonight. One look, and a year of conditioning went down the drain. Now, the bloodline is messy. And when a bloodline gets messy, it has to be wiped clean."

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