THE MAFIA BOSS CALLED MY NAME THREE TIMES WHILE I WAS SERVING HIS ENGAGEMENT DINNER—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “SHE HIT HER HEAD ON THE SERVICE DOOR,” BEFORE HE EVEN ASKED WHY I COULDN’T HEAR HIM. For three seconds, everyone at the table thought I was deliberately ignoring Luca Moretti. I wasn't.

The morning sun crept softly through the heavy velvet drapes of the Moretti estate, painting the grand library in warm, golden light.

The house was incredibly quiet. The police had left hours ago. The catering company had packed up the ruined engagement dinner. Vanessa and Daniel were sitting in holding cells, facing federal kidnapping and conspiracy charges.

I sat on the plush velvet sofa, nursing a cup of coffee. The private physician had finally looked at my head, applying a butterfly bandage to the scrape behind my ear and confirming I had a mild concussion.

I was wearing a soft cashmere sweater and leggings that the housekeeper had found for me, my stained uniform finally thrown in the trash where it belonged.

The library doors clicked open.

I looked up as Isabella walked in. She looked like a completely different person from the terrified ghost in the music room. She was wearing a beautiful silk dress, her hair washed and brushed. She looked healthy. She looked like a Moretti.

And walking beside her, holding her hand, was Matteo.

The little boy was wearing fresh clothes, holding a half-eaten piece of toast. When he saw me, his hazel eyes lit up. He let go of his mother’s hand and ran across the Persian rug.

I set my coffee down just in time to catch him as he threw himself into my arms.

"Morning, Sophie," Matteo mumbled around his toast, hugging my neck.

"Good morning, sweetie," I smiled, holding him tightly.

Isabella sat next to me, a warm, genuine smile on her face. "He asked for you the second he woke up. I think you're his new favorite person."

"I think he's mine, too," I admitted, brushing a crumb from his cheek.

Before Isabella could say anything else, the library doors opened wider, and Luca walked in.

He had changed out of his ruined tuxedo and was wearing dark slacks and a simple black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looked tired, but the lethal, terrifying tension that usually radiated from him was completely gone.

Isabella stood up. She walked over to her brother and, without a word, wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest.

Luca closed his eyes, holding his sister tightly, repairing the fractured bond that Vanessa had spent six months trying to destroy.

"I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner, Bella," Luca murmured into her hair.

"You found me," Isabella said softly, pulling back and smiling up at him. "That's all that matters."

She took Matteo’s hand, kissing the top of his head. "Come on, piccolo. Let's go see if the chef has more toast."

As Isabella and Matteo left the library, the quiet settled over the room once more.

Luca walked over to the sofa and sat down beside me. He didn't sit at a polite distance. He sat close enough that the warmth of his body radiated against my side.

"The police found the rest of the forged documents in Daniel’s office," Luca said quietly, staring into the cold fireplace. "The District Attorney is pushing for maximum sentencing. They won't see the outside of a cell for twenty years."

"Good," I said, entirely without pity.

Luca turned his head, his dark, intense eyes locking onto mine.

"You fought for my family last night, Sophie," Luca said, his voice thick with emotion. "You stood between a loaded gun and my nephew. You took a hit from the woman trying to destroy us. You have more courage in your little finger than anyone who was sitting in that ballroom."

I looked down at my lap, suddenly feeling shy under the weight of his gaze. "I just did what anyone would do."

"No," Luca said firmly, reaching out and gently lifting my chin so I was forced to look at him. "You did what you would do. Because of who you are."

He reached into his pocket.

He didn't pull out cash. He didn't pull out a checkbook.

He pulled out the Moretti family pearl necklace. The diamond clasp had been expertly reattached, the shimmering pearls perfectly clean and luminous.

"Mr. Moretti," I started, shaking my head. "I told Vanessa, I don't want a reward..."

"This isn't a reward," Luca interrupted softly. "And my name is Luca."

He unclasped the heavy diamond lock.

"This necklace belonged to my mother," Luca said, leaning forward. "She told me to give it to a woman who possessed loyalty, fierce protectiveness, and a heart that couldn't be bought."

He reached around my neck, the cool, heavy pearls settling against my collarbone. He fastened the diamond clasp, his fingers lingering on the skin at the nape of my neck.

I held my breath, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"Vanessa wore it for a month, and it looked like cheap costume jewelry," Luca whispered, his gaze dropping to my lips before rising back to my eyes. "On you... it looks exactly where it belongs."

He didn't lean in to kiss me. He didn't have to. The promise in his eyes, the absolute, undeniable shift in our dynamic, spoke louder than words ever could.

I was no longer the invisible maid hiding in the shadows.

I sat in the morning light, wearing the heirloom of the most powerful family in the city, safe, seen, and finally, truly valued.

I smiled, my hand reaching up to touch the pearls.