Exposed to the CEO Behind the Mafia Mask (by Silver Spoon) novel Chapter 493

Chapter 493: Chapter 89 Sanctuary Violated

Daniel’s POV

The stack of evidence files from a recent money laundering bust occupied my attention at the precinct when my phone vibrated. A text from Lila sent ice through my veins—my father was at our penthouse. Alone with her. My father could be merciless when it served the family’s interests, and the thought of him pressuring Lila about my loyalties made my jaw clench. I needed to finish processing this financial crimes case before I could leave, each passing minute feeling like an eternity. Once the paperwork was filed, I approached my partner.

"Family situation. Need to head out but I’ll be back before shift ends. Can you handle things here?"

With his understanding nod, I raced to my unmarked sedan. The drive through downtown took an excruciating stretch of time through midday traffic, my mind conjuring increasingly troubling scenarios about what my father might be demanding of Lila.

When I burst through our penthouse door, the scene before me ignited a murderous rage. A young man had Lila pinned against the marble foyer wall, his fist tangled in her golden hair as she struggled beneath his grip. White-hot fury exploded through my system. Who dared lay hands on my woman in our own sanctuary?

A woman lunged forward, attempting to shield the attacker with her body. One glance at her face and recognition struck—Claire Sullivan, Lila’s adoptive mother and a key figure in the Sullivan family’s art laundering operations. I’d studied her photograph in family intelligence files recently. The realization hit like a sledgehammer. This was exactly why Lila had refused to give her mother our address, fearing being dragged back into the Sullivan family’s web of control.

Lethal fury consumed me as I stormed across the marble floor, seizing both intruders with enough force to cut off their air supply. The woman’s protests meant nothing as I physically hauled them from our home and deposited them in the private elevator, sending them down to the lobby with a promise that they’d never set foot in this building again.

Before returning upstairs, I found the building’s head of security shifting nervously at his station. His anxious mumbling caught my attention.

"What did you just say?" I demanded, advancing toward his desk with the predatory stride that made hardened criminals confess.

"Mr. Martinez, I verified their credentials thoroughly, I swear," he stammered, sweat beading on his forehead. "I didn’t think there would be any harm in allowing the young lady’s family members to visit."

I leaned across his desk, my voice dropping to the lethal whisper that had ended more than one interrogation. "Did you not follow protocol and announce their arrival?"

"The woman insisted it was meant as a surprise for her daughter. I confirmed her surname matched Ms. Sullivan’s identification documents in our system..."

"You allowed strangers into our private residence without notification?" I slammed my fist down on his desk hard enough to crack the glass surface. "Listen very carefully—from this moment forward, absolutely no one enters without direct authorization from Lila or myself. I don’t care if they claim to be family, business associates, or the governor himself. No exceptions. Are we clear?"

The security chief’s face drained of all color. "And specifically, that woman and her accomplice are permanently banned from this property and all Martinez-controlled buildings."

"Y-yes, sir. I’ll update the security database immediately and inform all shifts."

I strode toward the elevator, already composing a message to our family’s security coordinator about tightening protocols across all properties. Reaching our penthouse level, I found the door secured with all deadbolts—she’d remembered my teachings about defensive measures. I pressed the intercom button.

"Lila, it’s me. They’re gone. Open up, little one."

A soft sob preceded the electronic click of the locks disengaging. When the reinforced door swung open, my heart contracted with rage and pain. Her beautiful face bore an angry red handprint across her cheek, her lower lip split and bleeding from where that animal had struck her. Tears streaked down her porcelain skin. Without a word, I lifted her into my arms and carried her to our bedroom, placing her gently on the silk comforter.

I gathered medical supplies from our bathroom—ice wrapped in Egyptian cotton for her cheek, antiseptic for her lip, prescription painkillers from our family physician, and bottled water. Settling beside her on the bed, I pressed the cold compress to her reddened skin with infinite gentleness.

"Hold this here, sweetheart. Let me clean this cut properly. Are there other injuries I can’t see?" My voice cracked despite my efforts to maintain control. She shook her head silently, her golden eyes still bright with unshed tears.

After tending to her wounds with the precision I’d learned from battlefield medics in the Martinez family’s employ, I lay beside her, drawing her trembling form against my chest. I couldn’t comprehend how anyone—especially someone claiming to be a mother—could harm someone as pure as Lila. The thought of how many times that worthless brother might have brutalized her throughout their childhood made my blood boil with the need for retribution. I understood now why her other brother had insisted on teaching her self-defense techniques.

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