POV Baby Juilet (currently 11 months old)
The world was so boring with Maria. She only sang boring songs and gave me boring mashed peas. Timothy waved a PlayStation controller in my face. Enzo made funny faces. Nothing worked.
Because I didn't want them.
I wanted lijah. And l always get what l want.
So I cried.
Not just any cry. Not a "wah-wah- feed me" cry. Not a "change me" cry.
I did the cry any powerful infant would do.
I screamed.
And screamed.
And SCREAMED.
Until lijah had no choice but to take me with him to work.
Scene: Black SUV – En Route to lijah's Underground Empire
lijah strapped me into my platinum baby car seat with military precision.
"You're safer with me, bunny," he muttered, checking the window tint for the third time. "You are gonna be the end of me, Jules."
l know.
Location: Elijah's Headquarters – Basement Level -9
Everyone stared when we walked in.
Men in black suits. Women with dark lipstick and darker secrets. A guy named Chainsaw Rick (don't ask).
And there was lijah: carrying me in a designer baby sling like I was the crown jewel of the mafia world. And maybe I was.
People whispered.
"Is that... a baby?"
"Why is el jefe holding it like it's made of diamonds?"
"Hell naw... l thought he hated kids ?"
lijah didn't slow down.
"Eyes forward," he barked.
"Yes, sir!" the men chorused like terrified schoolboys.
He swept through the halls like a king with his tiny queen. Up the elevator. Fingerprint lock. Retinal scan. Voice password.
"Access granted," the AI chimed.
Welcome, Elijah Fernandez. Welcome, Baby Juliet.
Dang right.
He took the private elevator to the secret top-floor office. The lights flicked on with a soft click.
One side had :
Floor-to-ceiling windows with a skyline view.
Walls full of suspicious red lines connecting people's faces, guns, and expensive art.
A gold desk the size of a small boat.
But then... he flicked a switch... and a secret baby corner came to life.
Soft rug. Baby bottles. Pacifiers in a temperature-controlled case. A mini couch.
And a sign that read: "Juliet's Corner"
He unpinned me gently from the carrier and said, "You hungry mil sol?"
I cooed. Translation: Always.
He fed me gently with a bottle, eyes soft, voice low. Mafia King turned babysitter.
Then came... the diaper.
He actually put on latex gloves and a black mask, like he was about to perform surgery.
"What the f**k did you eat?" he muttered, gagging. "Are you smuggling biological weapons in that diaper?!"
I giggled. Evil. Pure evil.
Scene 4: The Knock
KNOCK KNOCK.
Ijah looked up ,"Who dares—"
Enter: RED.
BOOM.
The elevator doors flew open like someone had kicked them.
"ELI!" a voice echoed like thunder wrapped in leather. "You're not gonna believe what that fool from the East Dock tried—"
Red wasn't really red. That was just his name in the underworld. Red mohawk, scar across his eyebrow, and three shiny chains. He was lijah's so-called "friend."
"Eli—" Red froze. His eyes landed on me, sprawled on the mafia desk with half a diaper dangling. "No. Freaking. Way."
One of his goons nearly dropped their guns.
"Is that... a baby? Your baby?"
"She's my sister," lijah said flatly, fastening the fresh diaper.
Red burst out laughing. "YOU?!" he howled. "Mr. Ice-Cube-Hitman-Mafia-King himself... spoon-feeding a baby like some soft Disney dad?! Ijah, my brother, you've gone SOFT."
He mimed rocking a baby. "'Goo goo, gah gah!'"
The goons snorted. One whispered, "Boss is whipped by an eleven-month-old."
For a second, the room went ice-cold. Normally lijah would've drawn his gun, sent everyone scrambling. But instead... he sat back in the chair, cool as ever, and held my bottle.
"She's hungry again," he said simply, pressing the bottle to my lips.
I latched on, guzzling like the little queen I am.
Red blinked. "Wait. You're just... feeding her? In front of us?"
lijah's eyes flicked up, sharp as steel. "What? You expect me to starve my sister because you showed up?"
Red smirked. "You've changed, Eli. Never thought I'd live to see you wiping spit-up instead of blood."
"You'll live," lijah said calmly, patting my back until I burped like a mini shotgun. "As long as you don't make me repeat myself."
Finally, Elijah's eyes narrowed. "Why are you here?"
Red dropped the smirk, dead serious now.
"Mandozes hit us last night," he said, voice dropping low. "Nine of our men down. They're closing in. Means war, EIjah."
The room went heavy. The chandelier light seemed to dim; one guard's hand drifted to his holster.
lijah's face hardened again, shadow swallowing the light. But instead of putting me down, he tucked me closer.
His jaw clenched. His eyes burned like fire. "Those motherf***ers," he cursed, snapping hard, "are gonna pay in blood."
Red nodded solemnly, pulling out a briefcase stacked with cash.
One of his goons nervously pulled out a Mrs. Rachel video for me on his phone (yes, gangsters apparently love toddler YouTube too).
The Cigar Incident
As Red leaned over the table, laying out maps and attack plans, Mrs. Rachel sang about mama and dada.
But listen—do I look like the kind of baby who just listens to Mrs. Rachel all the time when there's mafia-grade luxury nearby.
My eyes locked on lijah's desk.
More specifically... the glowing, expensive Cuban cigar.
Oh, yes.
Oh, yes.
With the reflexes of a champ, I reached out my tiny hand, grabbed it clean from the ashtray, and shoved it straight into my mouth. Not the lit end, l am a pro. The middle.
Gimbo, one of the goons, gasped.
Red choked on his laughter.
"NO WAY. Ijah, your baby's a natural! Already chewing cigars like a little mob boss!"
Elijah's face... pure horror.
"JULIET! DROP IT. NOW."
I giggled. Drooled on the cigar. Left bite marks.
"SPIT IT OUT ,JUILET!"
He ripped it out, checked my mouth for pieces, wiping furiously while muttering curses under his breath.
After Red and his men left, the office was silent. Elijah rocked me slowly, staring out at the city lights. The war plans lay open on his desk, right next to my half-chewed teething ring.
"It's just you and me, Jules," he murmured. "Like always."
He picked up his phone, voice calm and final.
"It's me. The gloves are off. No prisoners. No witnesses."
He hung up and kissed my forehead, lips cold.
"Time to go home, baby girl."
END CHAPTER