I Saved His Daughter And The Mafia Boss Won’t Let Me Leave Chapter 04
Lily stares up at me, dead serious.
“If you marry Daddy, you’ll be my mommy.”
“And you won’t just… go away? Like the other ladies did?”
Her voice gets smaller with every word. The hope in her eyes is already crumbling into fear.
Roman has Marco take her to change out of her little veil. Then he turns to me, looking uncomfortable.
“Lily has trauma. The nannies we hire never stick around. They get nervous about the responsibility and quit.”
“She’s scared you’ll leave too. She got it in her head somehow that if you marry her daddy, you’ll have to stay forever.”
He shifts in his chair.
“I couldn’t say no to her. So I told her I’d ask.”
I shake my head right away.
“We can’t actually get married. Marriage isn’t a game.”
Something dims in Roman’s face. Just for a second.
Then I think about Lily last night. Screaming. Shaking so hard I could feel it in my bones. My heart caves.
“But… I can play along. We can put on a little show for her.”
Roman exhales.
“That would be more than enough.”
Half an hour later, there’s a little ceremony in the garden.
Lily places a crown of flowers on my head, then takes my hand and presses it into Roman’s palm.
“Daddy. You have to protect Mommy now, okay?”
Then she turns to me, searching my face.
“And Mommy won’t leave… right?”
I kneel down and pull her into my arms.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
The tension melts out of her little face. She throws her arms around both of us at once.
I know this is pretend. But my throat still tightens.
When I married Derek, I didn’t even get this much.
That night, after my shower, I hear a heavy thud in the hallway.
I rush out. Roman is on the floor.
His wheelchair is tipped sideways. The little tray on it is overturned — pills everywhere, a bowl of hot soup spilled all down his shirt. Still steaming.
He’s trying to push himself up, but his arms won’t stop shaking.
I drop beside him. “Don’t move.”
His jaw clenches. “Just get Marco.”
“There’s no time. You’re burned.”
I slide one arm under his knees, the other behind his back, and lift him straight off the ground.
He goes completely rigid.
“Sera.”
“Yeah?”
“Put me down.”
“Oh relax, you’re light as a feather.”
I carry him into the bathroom, clean off the mess, get him into fresh clothes, and carry him back to bed.
His ears are red.
“How are you so… practiced at this?”
“Derek’s mother.” I tuck the blanket around his legs. “She was bedridden for years. I did all of it. Lifting, bathing, changing — everything.”
Roman is quiet for a moment.
“Why did you two divorce?”
“Derek and I grew up together. Same orphanage. He was like a brother to me.”
I smooth down the edge of the blanket. Old habit.
“When he was eighteen, his birth mom found him. She’d married rich, but she was really sick by then. Bedridden.”
“One day he just… asked me to marry him. And I thought, okay. I know him. Why not?”
I shrug.
“He needed someone to take care of his mom. Nurses cost money. I was free.”
Roman’s expression goes dark.
“And when she died, he divorced you.”
“Yeah.” I straighten the blanket one more time. “Said I smelled like grease. Said he’d moved on.”
Without thinking, I start massaging Roman’s legs. Years of muscle memory from doing this every night for someone else.
Two presses in, his muscle suddenly clenches under my hands.
I freeze. Pull back. This isn’t — we’re not —
But Roman grabs my wrist. His voice is shaking.
“Sera.”
“I can feel something. In my legs.”