I TOOK 7 BULLETS FOR A BILLIONAIRE’S MOTHER: When I Woke From My Coma, The Most Feared Mafia Boss in New York Had Made Me His Wife—And Hidden a Dangerous Secret That Could Destroy Us Both!

After the ambush, the estate was placed on absolute lockdown. Forty additional guards were deployed, and Dominic disappeared into the basement command center for thirty-six hours, coordinating a merciless, citywide purge of Victor Costa’s operations.

I was confined to the main house, my nerves frayed and my mind spinning.

While Enzo was in the east wing having his shoulder treated by doctors, I found myself wandering into Dominic’s private library. The adrenaline from the shootout had unlocked a restless suspicion in my mind—a nagging question that had haunted me since the day I woke up in St. Catherine’s Hospital.

How did Dominic know my name before he saw my ID? Why did Costa target me with military-grade hit squads? Why was I so important?

I walked behind Dominic’s massive desk. Behind a grand oil painting of the Rossi ancestry, a heavy steel wall safe stood slightly ajar—an unprecedented mistake caused by the frantic chaos of the ongoing war.

My hands trembled as I pulled the heavy steel door open.

Inside were stacks of bearer bonds, offshore account ledgers, and emergency passports. But resting at the very top was a thick manila folder labeled with a name that made my blood run cold:

MARCUS VANCE – OPERATION LEDGER (1998–2010)

Marcus Vance.

My father.

The man who had supposedly abandoned my mother and me when I was barely seven years old. The man who had vanished without a trace, leaving us in poverty.

With shaking fingers, I opened the file.

Inside were dozens of photographs, bank wire transfers, and sworn affidavits.

My father hadn't been an ordinary accountant who ran off with another woman. Marcus Vance had been the chief financial architect and master bookkeeper for the Five Families of New York. For fifteen years, he had managed the blood ledger: an encrypted, untouchable digital archive containing the entire money-laundering network, corrupt political payoffs, and offshore assets of both the Rossi and Costa syndicates.

In 2010, when Victor Costa attempted a violent coup to seize total control of the city, my father refused to hand over the encryption keys. Knowing Costa would slaughter his family to get them, Marcus had faked his own disappearance, hidden the master ledger, and entrusted the safety of his wife and daughter to a single man:

Dominic Rossi’s late father, Antonio Rossi.

Attached to the file was a handwritten letter dated three months before the Aster Crown Hotel shooting, written in Dominic’s sharp, commanding cursive:

“Marcus Vance is confirmed dead in Switzerland. The ledger keys were passed biologically to his next of kin via an encrypted trust. Maya Vance is the sole carrier of the Costa syndicate’s financial death warrant. She must be found, secured, and brought under Rossi protection before Costa realizes who she is.”

A cold, suffocating weight crushed down on my chest.

Dominic hadn't met me by accident at the Aster Crown Hotel. He hadn't just taken pity on an exhausted waitress.

He knew who I was before I ever picked up that champagne tray.

Our entire meeting, my presence at that gala, the protection, the marriage—it was all connected to a twenty-year-old mafia war and a ledger written in my father’s blood.

"You weren't supposed to read that," a deep, chilling voice sounded from the doorway.