FRANK, DON'T TOUCH THE BRAKES. JUST MAKE SURE THE CAR LOOKS PERFECT WHEN ISABELLA GETS IN.

Three weeks passed.

The bruises faded, but the reality of her new life still felt like a dream Emily was afraid to wake up from.

She and Leo had been moved out of the guest wing and into the beautiful, ivy-covered carriage house on the edge of the estate’s property. Her father, Arthur, had moved into a comfortable suite in the main house, spending his days advising Isabella on philanthropic foundations and playing chess with Frank.

For the first time in his life, Leo had a backyard. He had a dog—a golden retriever puppy Daniel had surprisingly dropped off one afternoon with a gruff, "Found him wandering. Needs a kid."

Emily was no longer a maid.

But she also didn't know exactly what she was.

She spent her days walking the grounds, reading, and occasionally having tea with Isabella, who treated her with a fierce, protective warmth.

But Luca had been distant.

After that morning in the guest room, he had thrown himself into restoring order to his empire after the Romano fallout. He left early, came back late, and their interactions were limited to polite nods across the courtyard.

Doubt began to creep into Emily’s mind.

He felt responsible for me, she thought as she watched Leo throw a ball for the puppy. He felt guilty because his fiancée almost killed me. That’s all it was.

She decided it was time to leave.

Not back to the slums, but to a quiet suburb. She had the means now; Isabella had set up a generous trust for Leo.

It was time to stop pretending she belonged in a mafia don's world.

That evening, Emily put on a simple blue dress and walked up to the main house to tell him.

The estate was quiet. She found Luca in his study, standing by the massive mahogany desk. He was holding a glass of whiskey, staring out the window at the setting sun.

"Luca?"

He turned. The exhaustion that had plagued him for weeks seemed heavier tonight.

"Emily." He set the glass down. "Is something wrong? Does Leo need something?"

"No. Leo is fine." She stepped into the room, twisting her fingers together. "I came to tell you that I've found a house. In Oak Park. Close to a good school for Leo."

Luca froze.

The silence in the room became suffocating.

"A house," he repeated, his voice dangerously flat.

"Yes. You’ve been so incredibly generous, Luca. To all of us. But we can't stay in the carriage house forever. It’s time we started our own lives."

Luca walked slowly around the desk.

He stopped two feet away from her. The sheer presence of him made her heart race.

"I told you once," he said, his voice low, "that you belong here."

"I was your maid, Luca," she whispered, looking down at the carpet. "You took pity on me."

"Pity?"

He reached out, catching her chin with his warm fingers, and gently forced her to look at him.

"Do you think I let just anyone live on my property? Do you think I trust anyone the way I trust you?"

Emily’s breath hitched. "You’ve barely spoken to me in three weeks."

"Because I am a dangerous man, Emily," he said, his eyes burning with an intensity that made her shiver. "Because I spend my days dealing with violence, and lies, and men who would kill me for a dollar. When I come home, I look at the carriage house, and I see the only pure thing in my life."

He stepped closer, closing the distance between them.

"I stayed away because I wanted to give you time to heal. And because I was terrified that if I got too close, my world would ruin you."

Emily looked up into his dark, tortured eyes.

She didn't see a mob boss. She saw the man who had caught the falling harp. The man who had protected a little boy.

"Your world didn't ruin me, Luca," she said softly. "It saved me."

Luca closed his eyes, a ragged breath escaping his lips.

When he opened them, the hesitation was gone.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper.

"I found this in my mother’s desk yesterday," he said, handing it to her.

Emily unfolded it.

It was a faded ticket stub. A ferry ticket to Mackinac Island, dated almost thirty years ago.

"My parents took that ferry on their honeymoon," Luca said softly. "My mother told me that your father was supposed to go on that same ferry with your mother, for their anniversary. But he couldn't afford it."

Emily looked at the ticket. "He never took her."

"My father bought him the ticket," Luca said. "But your father refused it. He said he wouldn't take charity. He would earn it himself."

Luca reached out and touched her cheek.

"I am not my father, Emily. And I am not offering you charity."

He stepped back, reached into his desk drawer, and pulled out a heavy, forged iron key.

"This is the key to the front door of the main house. I want you to have it. Not as a guest. Not as an employee."

Emily stared at the key, her heart soaring.