Chapter 1 - THE STRANGER IN THE SNOW
She Was Left Bleeding in the Snow—Until the Mafia Boss Found Her and Saved Her Life
Connor’s phone lit up beside the stove while I was making breakfast.
Can’t wait for tonight. Your place again?
The message was from someone named Jess. I stared at the screen until butter burned in the pan and the eggs stiffened around the edges. At eight weeks pregnant, the smell sent me stumbling toward the sink.
Connor came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. He saw his phone in my hand and stopped. For a moment I expected embarrassment, an apology, even a poor lie. Instead, he looked irritated.
“Who’s Jess?” I asked.
“A friend.”
I turned the screen toward him. “Does she know I live here?”
He took the phone. “Madison, I was going to tell you. This hasn’t been working.”
Two nights earlier he had rubbed my back while I was sick. We had discussed whether a crib could fit against our bedroom wall. I could still see him measuring the space with his hands.
“You said you wanted the baby.”
“I thought I did.” He looked away. “I’m not ready to be a father.”
“Then you should have told me before you started seeing someone else.”
He gripped the phone harder. “I don’t even know if the baby’s mine.”
For a second I heard nothing but the stove’s faint hiss. Connor knew I had been faithful. He also knew how to say something cruel enough to make the next part easier for himself.
“The lease is in my name,” he said. “You should get your things together.”
“Now?”
“Jess is coming over.”
I turned off the burner. I left the spatula in the pan and took my keys, wallet, and phone. Outside, February wind cut through my sweater as I walked three blocks to my car. By the time I found it beneath a streetlight, my fingers were too stiff to fit the key into the door.
I drove north without deciding where to go. Snow thickened beyond Billings, striking the windshield in white bursts. My phone kept lighting up in the cup holder. I let it ring.
A deer stepped out of the darkness. I swerved, felt the tires slide, and heard metal fold around me. When I opened my eyes, the car was on its side against a pine tree. The seat belt held me above shattered glass, and warm blood ran down my temple.
I got out through the broken window. Snow swallowed my shoes. My first clear thought was for the baby, and I pressed a shaking hand against my abdomen as if I could learn anything that way.
The road was a pale blur above the ditch. I made it halfway there before my legs gave out. Cold worked through my jeans, then my sweater. I tried to lift myself again and could not.
Headlights appeared through the snow.
A vehicle stopped. Someone called for help, and boots crunched down the embankment. A man knelt beside me, his dark coat already whitening at the shoulders. A narrow scar crossed his chin.
“Can you hear me?”
“Pregnant,” I managed. “Eight weeks. Hospital.”
His expression sharpened. He called for blankets and a doctor, then lifted me from the snow. I heard another man ask whether the roads to Billings were passable.
“We’re closer to the estate,” the man holding me said. “Fontanelli can meet us there.”
“No,” I whispered. “Hospital.”
“I hear you.” His voice was close to my ear. “We’re getting you medical help now.”
Warm air struck my face when they carried me into the vehicle. I tried to hold on to the sound of the engine, but the dark came back.
When I woke, a doctor stood beside a bed in a room with tall windows. My hands were bandaged. He told me my concussion needed watching and that the pregnancy appeared stable, though I would need a full hospital assessment as soon as the roads opened.
“Where am I?”
“The Mancini estate.”
Beyond the glass, snow covered a lawn enclosed by a high fence. Two men walked along it, their shapes moving beneath the security lights. The bedroom door opened, and the man who had lifted me from the ditch stepped inside.
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He was taller than I remembered.
Broad shoulders filled a black sweater beneath an open charcoal coat. His dark hair was damp from the snow, and the scar across his chin stood out against his olive skin.
He stopped when he saw my eyes open.
“How are you feeling?”
I tried to sit up.
Pain shot through my head.
“Easy,” he said.
I sank against the pillows.
“Who are you?”
“Alessandro Mancini.”
The name meant nothing to me.
Not then.
He glanced toward the doctor.
“Fontanelli?”
“She needs hospital imaging and obstetric assessment. Her vital signs are stable for now, but that doesn't rule out complications.”
Alessandro nodded.
“The moment the road is cleared.”
I looked between them.
“Am I being held here?”
His expression changed.
“No.”
“Then why are there guards outside?”
“They protect the property.”
“From what?”
He hesitated.
“People who don't like me.”
That was not reassuring.
I pulled the blanket closer.
“I need my phone.”
“It was recovered from your car. The screen is damaged, but it works.”
He placed it on the bedside table.
There were seventeen missed calls.
All from Connor.
One message appeared beneath them.
You can't just disappear with my baby. Call me.
I stared.
An hour earlier, he hadn't even been sure the baby was his.
Now he was claiming ownership.
Alessandro noticed my expression.
“Someone you need to contact?”
I turned the screen facedown.
“No.”
He didn't press.
Instead, he moved toward the door.
“There's food if you're hungry. Dr. Fontanelli will remain nearby until we can get you to the hospital.”
“Mr. Mancini?”
He stopped.
“Why did you help me?”
For a moment, his face was unreadable.
Then he said, “Because you were bleeding in the snow.”
He left before I could answer.
I looked toward the window.
Beyond the fence, the storm continued.
I didn't know who Alessandro Mancini was.
I didn't know why a man with armed guards lived in a mansion outside Billings.
But I knew one thing.
Connor had watched me walk out of our apartment without offering me a coat.
May you like
A stranger had carried me out of the snow.
And that difference was going to change my life.
