I RECOGNIZED THE MAFIA BOSS'S PITBULL AS MY STOLEN PUPPY - THEN ONE LAUGH IN HIS DINING ROOM MADE MY BLOOD TURN COLD

Six months later.

The morning sun flooded through the floor-to-ceiling windows of a gorgeous, sunlit townhouse in Upstate New York.

Green hills stretched as far as the eye could see. No concrete. No dirty harbor water. No darkness.

In the spacious backyard, a massive pitbull was sprinting joyfully across the green grass, chasing a red tennis ball. His fur was thick and shiny, his belly full, and the old scars on his face were softened by time and love.

He didn't answer to Cerberus anymore.

He was Buster again.

"He's getting faster," Enzo said, coming up behind me on the wooden porch and wrapping his arms around my waist. He rested his chin gently on my shoulder, smelling of clean sandalwood and fresh coffee.

Over the past half-year, Enzo Dante had completely dismantled his illegal operations, converting his vast wealth into legitimate real estate and international shipping logistics. Dominic was currently serving two consecutive life sentences without the possibility of parole in a federal facility in Colorado.

And I was no longer a struggling caterer hiding in the shadows of Manhattan.

I was running a non-profit animal rescue foundation funded entirely by Enzo’s enterprise, giving abused and neglected pitbulls a second chance at life—just like Buster got.

"He's not faster," I chuckled, leaning back into Enzo's warm chest. "You're just getting older."

Enzo let out a rich, deep laugh—a sound that filled my heart with warmth every single time I heard it. He kissed the side of my neck softly.

"Is that any way to talk to your fiancé?" Enzo teased, sliding his hand over mine. On my ring finger, a breathtaking emerald-cut diamond sparkled in the morning sunlight.

"I speak the truth, Mr. Dante," I smiled, turning in his arms to look up into those familiar grey eyes that had once terrified me, but now felt like home.

Down in the yard, Buster suddenly stopped chasing the ball. He turned around, saw the two of us standing together on the porch, and let out a happy, booming bark. He came bounding up the wooden stairs, trotting right between us, and nudged both of our hands with his wet snout.

Enzo knelt down, rubbing Buster behind his ears, while I crouched beside them, resting my head against Enzo’s shoulder.

Seven years ago, I thought I had lost everything in the dark.

I thought grief was a sentence I would serve for the rest of my life.

But love, loyalty, and a stubborn little puppy with a lightning bolt on his chest had brought me through the fire.

"Thank you, Enzo," I whispered softly.