CAN I SLEEP HERE TONIGHT? THE MAID'S FEARLESS TODDLER ASKED THE LONELY MAFIA BOSS — HE SAID YES

The high-society gala was held at the Grand Imperial Hotel in the heart of the city's financial district. It was an annual event where the city's elite—politicians, judges, business moguls, and high-level criminals—dressed in tuxedos and silk gowns to pretend they were all respectable citizens.

Gabriel stood near the mezzanine railing, a crystal glass of scotch in his hand, observing the floor below. Lucian stood two paces behind him, his dark suit tailored impeccably to hide the weapons he carried.

"Julian Moretti has been floating around the bar for the last hour," Lucian reported in a low murmur. "He’s been talking to Senator Vance."

"Vance is cheap," Gabriel replied without looking back. "He’ll take Moretti’s money, promise him the port contracts, and then come to me on Monday morning asking me to match the offer."

"Should I remind the Senator who owns his mortgage?"

"No," Gabriel said, taking a slow sip of his drink. "Let him feel important for the weekend. It makes men careless."

As Gabriel turned to head toward the private VIP lounge, a smooth, grating voice interrupted him.

"Gabriel! I was hoping I’d catch you before you slunk back to your fortress."

Julian Moretti stepped into the hallway. He was younger than Gabriel, in his mid-thirties, with slicked-back dark hair, a sharp nose, and an arrogant, restless energy that Gabriel had always found tiresome. Julian was the heir to the Moretti family, a group known for brutal, reckless tactics that frequently drew unwanted police attention.

"Julian," Gabriel said, his voice flat. "You're speaking loudly. Drink less."

Julian smiled, though his eyes remained dark and venomous. "Just offering my respects to the senior elder of the docks. Though rumors say you’re getting old, Gabriel. Word on the street is you’re soft. You're hiring domestic help with baggage. Running a daycare out of that cold mausoleum of yours?"

Lucian took a half-step forward, his shoulder tensing, but Gabriel raised a single finger, freezing his enforcer in place.

Gabriel didn't move. His posture remained perfectly relaxed, his expression impassive. Yet the air around him seemed to drop ten degrees in an instant.

"You have informants watching my domestic hiring, Julian?" Gabriel asked, his tone dripping with quiet disdain. "I am flattered that my housekeeping arrangements command so much of your executive focus. Is your own business doing so poorly that you've resorted to monitoring my laundry?"

Julian's smile faltered, replaced by a flash of anger. "Watch your mouth, Kane. The docks aren't your personal property. Things change. People get pushed out."

Gabriel stepped closer to Julian, closing the distance until he was looking down into the younger man's eyes. Gabriel didn't raise his voice; he lowered it to a whisper that cut through the background music of the ballroom like a razor.

"Listen to me very carefully, Julian," Gabriel said. "You exist in this city because your father was a man of honor, and I respected him. But your father is six feet under the dirt, and you are living on borrowed patience. If you so much as mention my home, my staff, or anything within my walls again, I will not wage a war with you. I will simply erase you. Am I understood?"

Julian stared at him, his chest rising and falling heavily. For three terrifying seconds, he saw the predator beneath Gabriel’s tailored suit—the man who had personally dismantled two rival cartels before he turned thirty.

"Understood," Julian choked out, stepping back.

Gabriel turned away without another word, walking down the carpeted corridor toward the exit. Lucian followed closely behind.

"He's going to make a move, Boss," Lucian said as they reached the private elevator.

"I know," Gabriel said, staring at the metallic doors as they closed. "He's stupid and he's desperate. A dangerous combination. Tell the estate guards to raise the alert level to Red. No one enters or leaves the grounds without my personal authorization."