SHE'S NOT GETTING UP TO MAKE A SPEECH! LOOK AT HER HANDS—SHE CAN BARELY HOLD A GLASS!” THE MAFIA BOSS'S FIANCÉE HUMILIATED HIS 25-YEAR-OLD MAID FOR HELPING HIS ELDERLY MOTHER STAND AT THE DINNER TABLE—BUT WHEN TERESA MORETTI GRABBED

The cold wind whipped across the upper deck as I dragged Matteo toward the railing of the drifting cargo ship.

Behind us, deep in the belly of the vessel, the mechanical voice echoed one last time.

“Thirty seconds.”

I looked down at the dark, freezing waters of Lake Michigan, fifty feet below. It was a terrifying drop, but it was our only chance.

“Matteo, listen to me,” I shouted over the wind, gripping his small shoulders. “When we hit the water, hold your breath and kick as hard as you can. I won’t let you go. Do you understand?”

He nodded bravely, tears streaming down his face. “Where is Daddy?”

My heart shattered. I looked back toward the open hatch leading down to the cargo hold.

Luca was down there. Holding the detonator switch, keeping the bomb from exploding so we could escape.

“He’s right behind us,” I lied, choking on a sob.

I picked Matteo up, wrapping my arms tightly around him, and climbed onto the steel railing.

“Close your eyes, baby,” I whispered.

I squeezed my eyes shut and leaned forward, preparing to fall into the abyss.

Suddenly, a massive hand grabbed the back of my tactical jacket and hauled us backward onto the steel deck.

I screamed, thinking Dante’s men had found us.

But as I fell onto the wet metal, I looked up.

It was Luca.

He was breathing heavily, his suit torn, blood smeared across his cheek.

“Luca!” I cried, scrambling to my feet. “How did you—”

“I broke his neck,” Luca said grimly, pulling us both up. “Then I used my belt to strap his dead hand around the detonator. It will hold for about ten seconds.”

He grabbed my hand, wrapping his other arm around Matteo.

“Now we jump,” Luca said.

Together, the three of us threw ourselves over the railing of the cargo ship just as a deafening explosion ripped through the hull.

The blast wave hit us mid-air, a searing wall of heat that sent us tumbling into the freezing black water.

The impact knocked the breath out of my lungs. The cold was absolute, a shocking, paralyzing freeze. I sank beneath the surface, the orange glow of the burning ship illuminating the water above me.

I kicked frantically, fighting my way to the surface.

I broke the water, gasping for air, the roar of the burning ship deafening.

“Matteo!” I screamed, spinning in the dark water. “Luca!”

A few yards away, Luca surfaced, holding Matteo securely against his chest. The boy was coughing, but he was alive.

“I have him!” Luca yelled, swimming toward me.

We clung to each other in the freezing lake, watching the massive cargo ship consumed by flames. The ship groaned like a dying beast before slowly tilting forward and beginning its descent into the dark depths of Lake Michigan.

Dante Moretti’s reign of terror was over. The ghosts of the past were finally burning away.

Thirty minutes later, the flashing lights of a Coast Guard cutter pierced the darkness. Luca’s lieutenants had tracked our location and called in every favor the syndicate had to rescue us.

They pulled us from the freezing water, wrapping us in heavy thermal blankets.

I sat shivering on the deck of the cutter, holding Matteo in my lap. The little boy had exhausted himself and fallen asleep, his head resting against my chest.

Luca sat beside me, wrapping his arms around both of us to share his body heat. He looked exhausted, battered, but completely at peace.

He reached into his soaked suit pocket and pulled out a small, waterproof metal capsule.

“What is that?” I asked, my teeth chattering.

“I found it in Dante’s coat before the explosion,” Luca said softly. He unscrewed the cap and pulled out a rolled-up piece of parchment.

He unrolled it and handed it to me.

It was an official document. A legal transfer of custody, signed and notarized five years ago.

It declared that Dante Moretti surrendered all legal rights to the child, granting them entirely to Luca and Catherine.

But at the bottom, there was a second signature. The biological mother’s signature, consenting to the adoption.

I stared at the name written in elegant, looping cursive.

It wasn't my signature.

“My mother,” I whispered, recognizing the handwriting instantly. “She forged my name while I was in the coma. She made it completely legal.”

Luca nodded. “Dante didn't just steal him. He bought him with absolute legality to ensure nobody could ever take him back.”

I looked down at the sleeping boy in my arms. The anger at my mother’s betrayal was entirely overwhelmed by the profound, staggering relief that he was finally, permanently mine.

Luca gently touched the document.

“When we get back to Chicago,” Luca said, his voice thick with emotion, “I am tearing this up. We will adopt him together. Properly. Legally. As a family.”

I looked up at him, tears welling in my eyes. “You mean that?”

“Hannah,” Luca said, cupping my face in his warm, calloused hands. “You saved my mother’s dignity. You fought for a son you didn't even know you had. And you stood by my side when you had every reason to run.”

He kissed my forehead, lingering there for a long moment.

“I am never letting you go,” he promised.

As the Coast Guard cutter sped back toward the twinkling lights of the Chicago skyline, I looked at the man beside me.

The mafia boss who had abandoned his empire to save a single life.

But as we pulled into the harbor, a sleek black town car was waiting on the docks, surrounded by federal agents.

Standing beside the car, holding a blue file folder, was a man I recognized from the evening news.

The District Attorney of Chicago.

And as we stepped off the boat, he didn't look at Luca.

He looked directly at me.