THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE CALLED ME “A STUPID LITTLE MAID” WHEN I REFUSED TO BLAME HIS LATE MOTHER’S SEAMSTRESS—BUT ONE PHOTOGRAPH MADE NICO STOP THE ENGAGEMENT DINNER.

The glow of the flames could be seen three blocks away.

By the time Nico's SUV screeched to a halt in the alley, the Cicero Fire Department was already fighting the inferno. The roof of Collins Alterations had caved in. The windows were blown out, vomiting thick, black smoke into the Chicago sky.

Everything my mother had built, every sacrifice she had made to keep us afloat, was turning to ash.

I threw open the car door and ran toward the barricades, screaming my mother's name.

"Emma, wait!" Nico yelled, catching me around the waist and pulling me back from the blistering heat.

"My mother!" I sobbed, fighting against his grip. "She was inside!"

"No, she wasn't!" a familiar voice called out.

I turned. Sitting on the back of an ambulance, wrapped in a shock blanket and coughing softly, was my mother. Mrs. Alvarez was sitting right next to her, holding a cup of water to her lips.

I broke free from Nico and threw myself into my mother's arms.

"I'm okay, Emma," my mother rasped, kissing my forehead. "Nico's men moved us out an hour ago. The shop was empty when they threw the firebombs."

I looked back at Nico. He was standing near the fire chief—the same corrupt fire chief from the photograph. But Nico wasn't shaking his hand. Nico had the man pinned against the side of a fire truck, his forearm pressed viciously into the chief's throat.

Whatever Nico whispered, the chief turned completely pale and nodded frantically.

Ten minutes later, the fire chief ordered his men to pack up. They left the building to burn.

"What did you do?" I asked as Nico walked back over to us.

"I gave him a choice," Nico said coldly. "He could face the FBI with the evidence of his corruption, or he could walk away and let the Commission handle this tonight."

"Where is Carlo Rossi?" I asked.

"He's at the shipping shipyards," Nico said. "He thinks he destroyed my leverage. He thinks he won."

Nico turned to me, his dark eyes softening. He reached out and gently wiped a streak of soot from my cheek.

"Emma, take your mother and Mrs. Alvarez to the safe house. Isabella and Leo are already there. You stay with them."

"And you?"

"I'm going to end this."

Nico didn't wait for an answer. He turned and walked toward his convoy.

But I wasn't just a maid anymore.

"Nico!" I called out.

He stopped and looked back.

"Carlo Rossi ruined a dress today," I said, my voice steady. "Make sure he pays for the fabric."

A slow, terrifying smirk spread across Nico Bellini’s face. "With interest, Emma."

Two hours later, the syndicate's private meeting room at the shipyards was completely silent.

Carlo Rossi, a heavy-set man with cruel, lifeless eyes, sat at the head of the table, flanked by the heads of the other four Chicago families. Bianca stood behind him, looking smug and victorious.

"Nico Bellini is out of control," Carlo told the table, feigning sadness. "He attacked my daughter. He fabricated lies about my family. I had no choice but to retaliate against his associates tonight."

The double doors swung open.

Nico walked in. He wasn't armed. He wasn't angry. He walked with the absolute, chilling confidence of a king who had already won the war.

"Nico," the head of the Romano family said, leaning forward. "Carlo says you've lost your mind. What do you have to say?"

Nico didn't speak. He reached into his coat and tossed an object onto the center of the heavy mahogany table.

It was the heavy gold watch with the engraved R.

Carlo Rossi's face paled slightly, but he quickly recovered. "A stolen watch? That's your proof? I reported that stolen five years ago."

"I know," Nico said softly. "You claimed it was stolen the night my brother died in the warehouse fire. You thought it melted."

"It proves nothing," Bianca sneered.

"You're right," Nico agreed calmly. "The watch just proves you were there. It doesn't prove you ordered the fire."

Nico snapped his fingers.

The double doors opened again.

And Isabella walked in, holding Leo's hand.

The entire room erupted. The dons stood up from their chairs in shock. Carlo Rossi looked like he had seen a ghost. He gripped the edge of the table, his mouth opening and closing without sound.

"Uncle Carlo," Isabella said, her voice shaking but full of absolute venom. "You locked me in a cage for five years. But you forgot one thing. I'm a Rossi by blood. And I remember everything you said to the men who poured the gasoline."

The room fell into a deathly silence.

The head of the Romano family looked at Carlo, his eyes hardening into black stones. The syndicate had one absolute rule: You do not kill family.

"Carlo," the Romano boss said quietly. "You are done."

Carlo reached for his gun, but before his hand even cleared his holster, four different guns from the other families were pointed at his head.

"Take him to the basement," Romano ordered. "And the daughter. They are exiled. Stripped of all assets. If they are seen in Chicago by sunrise, they die."

Bianca screamed as two heavy enforcers grabbed her arms. "Nico! Please! Nico!"

Nico didn't even look at her. He turned his back on the Rossi family forever. He walked over to Isabella and Leo, wrapping his arms around them both.

The war was over.

The next morning, the sun broke through the Chicago clouds, casting a golden light into the kitchen of the Bellini mansion.

I was standing at the stove, pouring coffee into Lucia's chipped white mug.

Mrs. Alvarez was sitting at the island, looking over a very thick, official-looking document. Nico had set up a permanent, massive pension for her and her husband, guaranteeing they would never have to work another day in their lives unless they wanted to.

Isabella was sitting in the sunroom, softly singing an Italian lullaby to Leo, who was fast asleep in her lap, finally safe.

I heard footsteps behind me. Nico walked into the kitchen. He looked exhausted, but the heavy, dark shadow that had haunted him for three years was gone.

He stopped next to me, taking the coffee mug from my hands.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"For the coffee?" I smiled slightly.

"For giving me my family back," he corrected, looking deeply into my eyes.

"What happens now, Nico?" I asked.

He set the mug down and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small, black velvet box and placed it on the counter between us.

My breath caught.

"Nico... I'm just your housemaid. You don't have to—"

"Open it, Emma," he interrupted softly.

I reached out with trembling fingers and opened the box.

It wasn't a ring.

It was a silver key.

"I bought the empty commercial space on Michigan Avenue," Nico said, stepping closer to me. "The one with the big bay windows. It's fully funded, fully staffed, and titled in your mother's name. Collins & Daughter Bridal."

Tears immediately flooded my eyes. I looked up at him, entirely overwhelmed.

"Nico..."