The Mafia Boss Locked the Door After Midnight — Then His Secretary Whispered Why She Was Leaving
Chapter 1
The office door clicked shut at exactly 12:17 a.m.
Isabella Reed stopped typing.
For three years, she had worked as Vincent Moretti’s private secretary. She knew his habits better than anyone in the organization. She knew he never drank coffee after six in the evening. She knew he hated being interrupted during negotiations. She knew he checked every window before leaving the building.
And she knew he never locked the office door from the inside after midnight.
Tonight, he had.
Isabella slowly looked up from her desk.
Vincent stood near the massive windows overlooking downtown Chicago. His black suit jacket was draped over one shoulder, his tie loosened, and his face was unusually pale.
“Mr. Moretti?”
He didn’t answer.
She glanced at the clock.
12:17.
Outside, rain streaked the glass.
The city below was almost empty.
“Did you need something?”
Vincent finally turned.
“Come inside.”
Isabella hesitated.
His office had always been a place she entered only when necessary.
She gathered the documents from her desk and walked through the doorway.
Vincent closed the door behind her.
Then locked it.
The sound made her stomach tighten.
“What’s happening?”
He walked toward his desk.
“Sit.”
She remained standing.
“Why?”
“Because I’m about to tell you something that may change your life.”
Isabella’s fingers tightened around the folder.
She had spent years around dangerous men.
She had learned never to panic.
Never show fear.
Never ask questions before understanding the situation.
But something about Vincent’s voice frightened her.
“What is it?”
He placed a small envelope on the desk.
“My brother knows about you.”
Isabella stared at him.
“Your brother?”
“Marco.”
She knew the name.
Everyone did.
Marco Moretti had been missing for six years.
Officially, he had disappeared overseas.
Unofficially, people whispered that he had betrayed Vincent.
Isabella had never met him.
“What does he know about me?”
Vincent looked at the envelope.
“Everything.”
He pushed it toward her.
She opened it.
Inside were photographs.
Her apartment.
Her car.
Her mother leaving a grocery store.
Her younger brother walking outside his college dorm.
Her hands began to tremble.
“How long?”
“Six months.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t know who I could trust.”
Isabella looked at him.
“You’re telling me now.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Vincent walked toward the locked door.
“Because tonight I discovered who has been feeding him information.”
He paused.
Then looked directly at her.
“Someone inside this building.”
Isabella’s heart sank.
“Who?”
Vincent didn’t answer.
Instead, he asked:
“Why are you leaving tomorrow?”
Isabella froze.
Her resignation letter was still inside her handbag.
She had planned to place it on his desk before sunrise.
Nobody knew.
Not even her closest friend.
Vincent’s eyes remained fixed on her.
“Why, Isabella?”
She swallowed.
Then whispered the truth.
“Because I’m pregnant.”
Vincent’s expression changed completely.
And for the first time that night, the most feared man in Chicago looked genuinely terrified.
