At two in the morning, a six-year-old girl pushed a vacuum twice her size across a mafia boss's private study, her baby sister asleep against her back in a knotted shawl. She wasn't scared of him.

By 7:00 AM, the morning sun was spilling brilliant golden light across the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Beacon Hill mansion.

The smell of smoke and stale tunnel air was gone, replaced by the scent of fresh pine disinfectant, blooming lilies, and dark roasted coffee.

In the grand dining room downstairs, Harrison, the head housekeeper, was nervously smoothing the linen tablecloth, his hands shaking as Roman walked into the room.

"Mr. Duca," Harrison stammered, bowing his head slightly. "I... I heard there was an incident last night with the security team... I hope everything was to your satisfaction—"

Roman didn't stop walking. He picked up an envelope from the sideboard, tossed it onto the table, and kept walking toward the kitchen.

"That’s your severance, Harrison," Roman said without looking back. "Pack your bags. You have thirty minutes to leave the property."

Harrison gasped, his face draining of color. "Mr. Duca! I've served this estate for ten years—"

"And you made a sick woman work until her six-year-old child had to carry a vacuum at two in the morning," Roman said, stopping at the kitchen doors, his voice cold as arctic ice. "If you are still on Beacon Hill by eight o'clock, Silas will personally escort you to the train station in a trunk."

Harrison didn't say another word. He grabbed the envelope and practically ran toward the servants' stairs.

Roman pushed open the heavy oak kitchen doors.

Sitting at the long marble island was Grace Harper. She was wrapped in a thick wool blanket, a warm cup of herbal tea held between her hands. Her fever had broken, though her face was still pale and tired.

Beside her, sitting on a high stool with her small feet swinging back and forth, was Mia. She was eating a massive plate of chocolate chip pancakes that Roman’s private chef had prepared for her, while baby Lily slept peacefully in a wooden crib nearby.

When Roman walked in, Grace immediately tried to stand up.

"Mr. Duca—"

"Sit down, Grace," Roman said gently, leaning against the counter across from her.

Mia swallowed her bite of pancake, looked up at Roman, and gave him a bright, sweet smile. "Did you fix the wall, Mr. Duca?"

Roman looked at the little girl, his heart swelling with an emotion he hadn't allowed himself to feel in twenty years.

"I fixed the wall, Mia," Roman told her softly. "The lady is safe, and nobody is ever going to scratch behind the books again."

Mia nodded happily, taking another large bite of her pancake. "I told you it wasn't pipes."

"You were right," Roman smiled faintly.

He turned his attention back to Grace, pulling a small leather folder from his jacket and setting it on the marble counter in front of her.

"What is this, Mr. Duca?" Grace asked nervously, eyeing the gold-embossed seal on the cover.

"It’s an employment contract," Roman said simply. "Effective immediately, you are no longer the housekeeper. You are the General Director of Estate Operations for all my properties in Massachusetts."

Grace blinked, her jaw dropping. "What?"

"Your salary is three hundred thousand dollars a year," Roman continued, ignoring her shock. "You will have a full staff under your command, your own private wing on the second floor, and full health coverage for Mia and Lily. Furthermore, a private trust fund has been established in Mia’s name that will cover her tuition at any university in the world when she turns eighteen."

Grace stared at the document, tears streaming down her face, her chest heaving as she buried her face in her hands.

"I... I can't accept this, Mr. Duca... I'm just a cleaning lady—"

"You're not just a cleaning lady, Grace," Roman said, his voice deep and absolute. "You raised a daughter who saved my life and saved my home last night. In this house, that makes you family."

Mia looked between her mother and Roman, her big brown eyes shining. She slid down from her stool, walked over to Roman, and reached up, gently tugging on the hem of his dark suit jacket.

Roman knelt down on the marble tile, coming face-to-face with the six-year-old girl who had changed his world in a single night.

"Yes, Mia?" Roman asked softly.