MY EX-HUSBAND GRABBED MY WRIST AT THE MAFIA BOSS’S DINNER AND CALLED ME A JEALOUS MAID—BUT WHEN LUCA SAW THE RING ON HIS NEW FIANCÉE’S FINGER, HE MADE EVERYONE STOP EATING.

The aftermath of that night felt like a fever dream that finally broke, leaving behind a clear, bright morning.

By sunrise, Blake was in police custody. He had been caught trying to board a bus to Mexico with a fake passport and a bag full of stolen casino chips. The police had enough evidence of fraud, forgery, and grand larceny to put him away for a decade.

Arthur Volante was handed over to the authorities by Mr. Whitmore’s lawyers, buried under mountains of corporate espionage charges.

And I was sitting on the front porch of my childhood home, watching the sunrise paint the sky in shades of gold and pink.

The heavy construction fence was already being dismantled by a crew Mr. Whitmore had sent over as an apology. The ugly wooden sign threatening demolition was chopped into firewood.

The yellow front door was safe.

I heard the creak of the porch floorboards and looked over. Marco walked out, holding two mugs of steaming coffee. He looked exhausted, but the heavy, defensive armor he usually wore seemed to have vanished.

He sat down on the step beside me and handed me a mug.

“I called a contractor this morning,” Marco said, staring out at the small front lawn. “We need a new roof. And the plumbing in the guest bathroom is shot. I’m going to pay for it.”

I smiled softly, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. “You don't have to do that. It’s half your house now.”

“I want to,” Marco said, his voice thick with emotion. He looked at me, his intense eyes softening. “I never thought I’d have a family again, Nora. I spent my whole life protecting the Morettis because they were the only people who took me in. But sitting here... knowing she left this for me... for us...”

He stopped, clearing his throat and looking away.

I leaned over and rested my head on his shoulder. He stiffened for a second, unaccustomed to the affection, before relaxing and wrapping a heavy arm around me.

“You’re home, Marco,” I whispered.

A sleek black car pulled up to the curb. Luca stepped out, looking effortlessly handsome in a dark sweater and slacks, a stark contrast to his usual formal suits.

He walked up the pathway, his eyes locking onto mine with a warmth that made my heart race.

“Good morning,” Luca said, stopping at the bottom of the porch steps.

“Morning, Boss,” Marco said, standing up. He gave me a small smile. “I’m gonna go measure that bathroom.”

Marco disappeared into the house, leaving Luca and me alone.

Luca walked up the steps and sat beside me. He didn't say anything at first. He just looked at the house, then at me.

“It looks different in the daylight,” he said softly.

“It feels different,” I admitted. I looked down at my hands. I was still wearing my mother’s emerald ring on my right hand. “I don’t know how to thank you, Luca. You risked your family’s safety. You risked your mother’s peace. All for a maid.”

Luca reached out, his fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His touch sent a shiver down my spine.

“You were never just a maid, Nora,” he said, his voice low and incredibly gentle. “From the moment you stood up to me to protect my mother’s dignity, I knew you were different. You have a fire in you that this city tried to put out. I just wanted to make sure you got to keep burning.”

I looked up into his dark eyes, my breath catching. “What happens now?”

Luca smiled, a real, genuine smile that reached his eyes. “Now? Now you resign from your position at the mansion.”

I blinked, hurt flashing through me. “You’re firing me?”

Luca laughed softly, shaking his head. “No, Nora. I am asking you to come back to the mansion. But not in a uniform. Not as an employee. I want you to sit at the table with us. As an equal. As someone I want to get to know, very, very well.”

My heart swelled. I reached out and took his hand, lacing my fingers through his.

“I think I would like that,” I whispered.

We sat there together in the quiet morning light. The nightmare with Blake was over. The secrets of the past were resolved. I had my brother back, I had my home, and I was holding the hand of a man who saw me as an equal.

It was the perfect happy ending.

Or so I thought.

Two weeks later, the renovations on the house were nearly complete. Marco and I were packing up the final boxes of my parents’ old belongings in the attic, deciding what to keep and what to donate.

I was pulling old winter coats out of a cedar chest when I found a small, locked wooden box hidden at the very bottom.

“Hey, Marco,” I called out. “Did you see this?”

Marco walked over, wiping dust from his forehead. “Never seen it. It’s got a heavy brass padlock. Want me to break it?”

I nodded.

Marco grabbed a crowbar and snapped the lock.

I opened the lid, expecting to find old tax documents or letters.

Instead, sitting on a bed of faded red velvet, was a silver rosary.

It was heavy, antique, and incredibly beautiful. But that wasn't what made the blood freeze in my veins.

Wrapped around the rosary was a handwritten note.

The handwriting was my father’s.

I unfolded the yellowed paper and read the words aloud.

I kept my promise to the Moretti family. I hid the truth about the night Teresa’s husband died. But if anything ever happens to me, this rosary is the proof. Forgive me, Miriam.

I dropped the paper.