THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE ORDERED ME TO SAY HIS DEAD MOTHER’S DOG HAD BITTEN HER—BUT WHEN I REFUSED, SHE CALLED ME “A STUPID LITTLE MAID”

The honeymoon was a quiet week in Tuscany, just the three of us—Matteo, Leo, and me. We left Bruno in George’s capable, loving hands.

When we returned to Chicago, the mansion felt different. The cold, empty echoes of the massive halls were replaced with the sounds of a child’s laughter and the warm smell of baking.

I had officially retired my maid’s apron, but I still made Sunday breakfasts.

One crisp Tuesday morning, Matteo was in his study going over some paperwork. He had been quietly dismantling the darker parts of his family’s syndicate, transitioning everything into legitimate real estate and shipping.

I walked in with two mugs of coffee.

“You’re working too hard,” I teased, setting a mug on his desk.

He looked up, exhaustion instantly melting from his eyes. He pulled me onto his lap, burying his face in my neck.

“I have to,” he murmured. “I’m making sure nobody can ever use my name to threaten you or Leo again.”

I stroked his hair. “Victor is in federal prison. Vanessa is broke and living in Europe. You won, Matteo.”

He sighed, kissing my jaw. “I know. But old habits die hard.”

Just then, Leo ran into the study, clutching a piece of paper.

“Look!” he shouted, practically vibrating with excitement.

“What is it, buddy?” Matteo asked, shifting so Leo could lean against the desk.

Leo proudly slapped the paper down. It was his latest spelling test from his new private school.

At the top, in bright red ink, was a massive A+.

But it wasn’t the grade that made Matteo and I freeze. It was the name written at the top.