**THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE ORDERED ME TO SEND HIS FATHER’S FIRST EMPLOYEE HOME BEFORE THEIR ENGAGEMENT DINNER—BUT WHEN I WALKED HIM INTO THE DINING ROOM CARRYING HIS DENTED LUNCHBOX, LUCA MORETTI LOOKED AT HIS EMPTY BELT AND ASKED, “FRANK… WHO TOOK YOUR KEYS?”** “Put him in a cab.”

The morning sun hit the Chicago skyline, casting long, golden beams of light through the massive bay windows of the Moretti estate.

It was a new day.

I stood in the kitchen, making a massive stack of pancakes.

The house felt different. The oppressive silence that used to hang in the air was gone. I could hear the television playing cartoons in the drawing room.

Julian ran into the kitchen, wearing a brand new baseball cap that was slightly too big for him.

“Emma!” he yelled, grabbing a piece of bacon off the platter. “Grandpa says we can go to the park today!”

“Only if you eat your pancakes first,” I smiled, playfully swatting his hand.

Marco walked in behind him, looking much better. The color had returned to his face, though he still moved a little stiffly.

“Morning, Emma,” Marco smiled, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, Marco. How are the ribs?”

“A small price to pay,” he said, watching his grandson happily eat. “Luca met with the Commission this morning.”

I stopped flipping the pancakes. “And?”

“Vanessa and her father have been banished from the city,” Marco said, a deep satisfaction in his voice. “The Bellini cartel is dismantled. The port is safe in trust for Julian. It’s over.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

Just then, the back door of the kitchen opened.

Frank walked in.

He was wearing his faded blue work shirt, covered in fresh sawdust. He looked ten years younger.

“Morning, everyone,” Frank announced, grabbing a plate.

“What are you building down there?” I asked, pouring him some coffee.

Frank’s eyes twinkled. “A new cabinet. For Antonio’s study. Luca says he wants to display some of the old family photos. Figured I’d make it out of that cherry wood Antonio loved so much.”

We all sat around the large island in the kitchen, eating breakfast together. Not as staff and guests, but as a bizarre, beautiful, chosen family.

A few minutes later, Luca walked in.

He had taken off his suit jacket, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows, a slight shadow of stubble on his jaw. He looked relaxed. Unburdened.

He walked around the island. He ruffled Julian’s hair, clapped Marco on the shoulder, and bumped his coffee mug against Frank’s.

Then, he stopped next to me.

He didn’t say anything. He just looked at me, a warm, steady gaze that made my stomach do flip-flops, and poured himself a cup of coffee.

“So,” Luca said, leaning against the counter. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

Frank wiped his mouth with a napkin.

“Well,” Frank said, standing up. “I’ve got a loose banister on the third floor. A window sticking in the guest room. And a grandfather clock that hasn’t run properly since 1998.”

Luca smiled. “You overcharging me for this?”

Frank laughed, picking up his old, dented green metal lunchbox from the counter.

“Since 1988, kid,” Frank said.

He turned and walked down the hallway, whistling a tune.

I watched him go, feeling the cool weight of the silver bracelet on my wrist.

I looked at Julian, laughing at something Marco said.

And then I looked at Luca.

He was watching me, that same soft, intense look in his eyes.

He reached out and gently took the spatula from my hand.

“You’ve worked enough this week, Emma,” Luca said quietly. “Sit down. I’ll finish the pancakes.”