I bre@stfed a mafia boss’s starving baby at 35,000 feet—and moments later, he looked me in the eyes and made a promise that sounded more like a life sentence than a thank-you. By the time I realized what I had stepped into, there was no turning back. — Part 2

“Sit down, ma’am.”

“The baby is hungry.”

“That’s not your concern.”

“Let her speak.”

The bodyguard stepped aside.

I slowly walked forward.

The silence felt suffocating.

When I reached him, Leo looked up at me with exhausted eyes.

“What are you saying?” he asked.

I hesitated.

The words felt impossible.

Humiliating.

Yet there was no other option.

The entire cabin froze.

Leo stared at me.

For a long moment, nobody breathed.

Then his gaze dropped to my chest.

Understanding flashed across his face.

“You can help her?”

I looked at the baby.

Her tiny face was red from crying.

Her strength was fading.

Every maternal instinct I had refused to stay silent.

“Yes.”

Leo’s jaw tightened.

For the first time, the feared crime boss looked vulnerable.

“Please.”

One word.

Barely audible.

But it carried more weight than any threat.

Moments later, I held his daughter in a private section of the cabin.

The instant she latched on, the crying stopped.

Relief flooded through me so suddenly that tears filled my eyes.

The baby drank hungrily.

Safe.

Comforted.

Alive.

When I finally handed her back, Leo looked down at his sleeping daughter and then back at me.

His expression had changed.

The fear was gone.

Something else had replaced it.

Something far more dangerous.

“You saved her life today, Nora.”

A chill ran down my spine.

Then he said the words that made my blood run cold.

“You can never go home now.”