My Boss, My Babydaddy

Chapter 47

Jocelyn’s POV

The call comes at 2:47 AM.

I'm not asleep—haven't been since I hung up with Eli hours ago.

I was just lying in Helena's guest room staring at the ceiling, replaying every conversation, every lie, every moment I should've seen through Zayden's carefully constructed facade.

When my phone lights up with Zayden’s number, my first instinct is to ignore it. Then something cold slides down my spine—a premonition, maternal instinct screaming that this call matters.

I answer.

“Zayden, what’s the…”

"Mrs. Wolfe." The voice is smooth, accented, unfamiliar. It’s not Zayden. "We haven't been formally introduced. Dante Caruso at your service."

My blood turns to ice water. I sit up fast, gripping the phone hard enough to hurt.

"How did you get Zayden’s phone?"

"I have access to many things." Amusement colors his tone. "Including, currently, your husband and his son."

The room tilts. "What?"

"They're with me. Safe for now, though that status is contingent on your cooperation."

I'm already moving, grabbing clothes, searching for my keys. "If you hurt them—"

"I'm not interested in hurting anyone, Mrs. Wolfe. I'm interested in business. Your husband owes debts his father left unpaid. I'm simply ensuring those obligations get fulfilled."

"Zayden doesn't owe you anything."

"That's not how blood debts work." His voice hardens. "Your husband's father laundered money through my operations for twenty years. Built his empire on foundations my family provided. When he died, those commitments were transferred to his son."

"That's not legal."

"Legal is a flexible concept when you own the right people." Background noise filters through—voices, movement. Then I hear it.

Eli—small and scared and worrying about his family more than about himself. "Dad, are you hurt?"

My heart stops completely.

"Let me talk to them," I demand.

"In a moment. First, you need to understand what's required." Papers rustle. "One transaction. Fifty million dollars through a series of real estate acquisitions. Clean money in, clean money out. Your husband facilitates, my accountants handle the details."

"Money laundering."

"Strategic financial restructuring." Dante's smile is audible. "Terminology matters in court, Mrs. Wolfe."

"Zayden will never agree to this."

"Then we have a problem." His tone shifts, loses the practiced warmth. "Because if he refuses, I'll ensure you lose custody of your daughter. I have judges, social workers, investigators on retainer. One phone call and Mia Hartwell-Wolfe becomes a ward of the state while we sort out concerns about her living conditions."

The threat lands like a physical blow. "You can't."

"I can and I have. Multiple times, actually." He's matter-of-fact about it, heartless. "Children make excellent leverage. Your husband's father understood that and used Giuliana to secure my cooperation for years. Now you'll use Mia to secure Zayden's."

My hands shake so hard I nearly drop the phone. "You're threatening a six-year-old."

"I'm offering a business arrangement. Fifty million, one transaction, everyone walks away whole. Refuse, and I take what I'm owed through other channels." He pauses. "Would you like to speak with your husband now?"

Static. Movement. Then Zayden's voice cuts through.

"Jocelyn, don't—"

"Where are you?" I'm already at Helena's door, keys in hand.

"Don’t come here. Dante has—"

"Three very professional associates," Dante's voice interrupts. "Who are currently ensuring your husband remembers his manners."

"Let them go."

"Make the promise first."

"What promise?"

"That Zayden will facilitate the transaction. Fifty million by Friday. Say yes, I leave tonight. Say no..." He lets the threat hang. "Well, I'm sure you can imagine the alternative."

I hear Eli crying in the background, Zayden's voice trying to calm him. The sound of my family being held hostage in their own home.

"Put Zayden back on."

Silence first, then Zayden's voice, low and tight. "Don't agree to anything."

"Are you hurt? Is Eli hurt?"

"We're fine, but Jocelyn, listen to me—you can't promise him this. The moment I facilitate money laundering, I'm complicit. Federal charges. Prison time. Everything we've built…"

"I don't care about what we've built!" The words explode. "I care about you and Eli getting out of there alive."

"This won't end with one transaction. Dante will own us. Forever."

"Then we deal with that later." My voice cracks. "Right now, I need you both safe."

Dante's voice returns. "How touching. But I'm losing patience. Yes or no, Mrs. Wolfe."

Every instinct screams to refuse. To call the FBI, the police, anyone with authority to shut this down. But Dante has judges and social workers. Has enough power to take Mia while Zayden sits in federal prison and I fight custody battles I can't win.

"Yes." The word tastes like poison going down my throat.

"Excellent choice. Your husband will receive details tomorrow. Fifty million, laundered through Brooklyn real estate acquisitions. Clean contracts, legitimate paperwork, nothing traceable."

"And then you leave us alone."

"Then we renegotiate terms." His smile is audible again. "This is just the beginning of a beautiful partnership, Mrs. Wolfe. Your husband's father understood that. Hopefully you're smarter than your husband about accepting reality."

"I want them released. Now."

"They're already home. Check your security cameras if you don't believe me." Background noise shifts—car doors, engines starting. "Oh, and Mrs. Wolfe? Your investigator, Marcus Kovak. Tell him to stop asking questions about my family. People who dig too deep tend to have unfortunate accidents."

The line goes dead.

I stand frozen for three seconds. Then I'm moving—down the hallway to the guest room where Mia sleeps, pushing the door open just enough to see her chest rise and fall beneath the blankets. Tiger plush tucked under her chin. Safe. Still safe.

I close the door quietly, press my forehead against it, and breathe once. Then I'm grabbing my keys off the kitchen counter, shoving my feet into shoes, driving toward the penthouse with hands that won't stop shaking.

The city blurs past. Red lights become suggestions. Speed limits evaporate.

I just promised a mob boss that my husband would commit federal crimes. Dante threatened to take Mia through legal channels I can't fight. Zayden and Eli are traumatized in a penthouse that's no longer safe.

And I have no idea how to fix any of it.

My phone buzzes. Zayden.

‘They're gone. We're okay. Don't come here—it's not safe.’

I text back while running a red light.

‘Too late, I'm already on my way.’

Because fuck safety. Fuck smart decisions. Fuck everything except getting to my family and making sure they're actually alive.

Three blocks from the penthouse, another text arrives. Unknown number.

‘Smart choice tonight, Mrs. Wolfe. Your husband has until Friday. Don't disappoint me. — D’

I stare at the message, at the casual threat wrapped in professional courtesy, at the reality that we're now trapped in a web we can't escape.

And for the first time since this nightmare started, I understand exactly what Zayden's father built.

Not an empire—a prison.

And we're all locked inside.