THE ENVELOPE ON THE KITCHEN FLOOR

My heart hammered against my ribs. I stared at the yellowed envelope, the familiar curve of Julian’s handwriting instantly transporting me back five years, to the tiny studio apartment we had shared.

“Victor kept this?” I whispered, my voice trembling.

“He kept it as a trophy,” Roman said, his eyes filled with a quiet sorrow. “A reminder of his victory over his brother.”

I carefully tore the seal, my fingers shaking so badly I almost dropped the paper. I unfolded the letter.

My beautiful Megan,

If you are reading this, it means I failed. It means I didn't make it to the train station, and Victor found me before I could secure our escape.

I am so sorry, my love. I’m sorry I lied to you about who my family is. I wanted to protect you from the darkness I grew up in. I wanted to build a clean, beautiful life for you and our baby.

Victor knows about the trust fund I set up for the child. He won't stop hunting. Please, take the baby and run. Change your names. Hide.

But if you are ever cornered, if Victor ever finds you... find my brother, Roman.

Roman plays the part of a monster to survive our world, but he has a good heart. He loved me. He will protect you if he knows the truth.

I love you, Megan. Kiss our child for me.

Forever, Julian.

Tears blurred my vision, dropping onto the old paper.

Julian hadn't abandoned me. He had died trying to save us. And in his final moments, he had entrusted our safety to the very man sitting across the table from me.

Roman watched a tear slide down my cheek. He reached out, his thumb gently wiping it away.

“He trusted you,” I whispered, looking up at him. “He knew you would save us.”

“I just wish I could have saved him,” Roman said, the guilt of five years heavy in his voice.

“You couldn't have known, Roman,” I said softly, turning my hand over to intertwine my fingers with his. “You gave us our lives back. Julian would be so proud of you.”

Roman looked at our joined hands. The tension that always seemed to grip his broad shoulders slowly melted away.

“Megan,” Roman murmured, his voice dropping an octave. “I have spent my entire life building walls, trusting no one, preparing for the next betrayal. But when you saved me in that alley... you broke every single wall down.”

My breath caught in my throat. I looked into his gray eyes, seeing the depth of his devotion.

“I don't just want to be your protector anymore,” Roman confessed, his gaze dropping to my lips. “I want to be your partner. If you’ll have me.”

I didn't answer with words. I leaned across the small table and pressed my lips to his.

It was a soft, tentative kiss at first, but Roman responded instantly, his large hand cupping my jaw, drawing me closer. The kiss deepened, filled with months of unspoken longing, relief, and a profound, overwhelming love.

When we finally pulled apart, I was breathless, my heart soaring.

“I’ll have you,” I whispered.

Sunday arrived with a crisp, autumn chill in the air.

I dressed Leo in a handsome little sweater, and I wore a simple but elegant navy dress. We drove to the Moretti estate, feeling vastly different than the terrified hostages we had been three months ago.

Isabella greeted us at the door, her face lighting up with genuine joy when Leo ran to hug her legs.

“My beautiful boy,” Isabella beamed, scooping him up. “I have a surprise for you in the garden.”

As Isabella took Leo outside, Roman met me in the foyer. He looked devastatingly handsome in a tailored black shirt. He kissed me softly, pulling me against his chest.

“Ready for dinner?” he asked, smiling.

“As long as nobody throws a grenade in the wine cellar,” I joked.

Roman laughed, a deep, rich sound that echoed through the grand hall.

We walked into the formal dining room. The table was set beautifully, but as I glanced toward the antique mahogany sideboard, I stopped dead in my tracks.