Rain hammered the windows of my estate that night, but inside the West Wing, no one dared make a sound.

Four years later.

The breeze coming off Lake Michigan was warm, carrying the scent of blooming lilac and fresh-cut grass.

The tall iron gates of the Moretti estate still stood, guarded by the most elite security force in the country, but the shadows that had once haunted the grounds were gone. The cold, unfeeling fortress of my youth had become something I never believed I would possess: a home.

In the center of the emerald-green lawn, a custom-built wooden playset stood against the backdrop of the blue lake.

A seven-year-old Mia, her long brown hair tied in a neat ponytail, was running across the grass, laughing as she chased a golden retriever puppy. Her pink socks were pulled neatly to her knees—no longer slipping, no longer hiding in terror.

"Catch me if you can, Daddy!" she shouted over her shoulder, her voice full of pure, radiant joy.

I was sitting on the wide marble veranda, wearing a casual linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a cup of coffee resting beside a stack of legitimate shipping company ledgers. The violent wars of Chicago were behind us; my grip on the city was so absolute, so undisputed, that peace was our daily reality.

Beside me, Elena leaned back against the cushioned outdoor lounger.

Her hand rested over her swollen belly—seven months pregnant with our second child, a son who would never know the cold terror of a father's wrath, only the fierce protection of his love.

Elena looked up at me, a soft, teasing smile gracing her lips. "Aren't you going to chase her, Mr. Moretti? The most feared man in Chicago isn't afraid of a little cardio, is he?"

I set my coffee cup down, smiling as I leaned over to press a tender, lingering kiss against her lips.

"The most feared man in Chicago belongs entirely to you two," I murmured against her skin. "And you know it."

"Mommy! Daddy! Look!" Mia called out, skidding to a halt near the edge of the patio, holding up a small dandelion she had plucked from the grass.

I stood up and walked down the stone steps.

I crouched down before my daughter, just as I had on that rainy night four years ago when she had dared to run through my halls and wrap her arms around my knees.

"What do you have there, Mia?" I asked softly.

"A wish," she said, holding the flower out to me with wide, sparkling eyes. "Mommy said if you blow the seeds, the wish comes true."

"And what did you wish for?"

Mia wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing her cheek against mine, her small hands holding onto me with effortless, unshakable trust.

"I wished that we could stay right here," she whispered, "in our castle, forever and ever."

I closed my arms around her, lifting her into the air as Elena walked down the steps to join us, wrapping her arms around both of us under the bright afternoon sun.