TAKE THAT BLANKET OFF HER! SHE'S NOT A HOMELESS WOMAN, AND I'M NOT HAVING HER LOOK LIKE ONE AT MY ENGAGEMENT DINNER!’

By two o'clock in the morning, the mansion was dead silent, but none of us were asleep.

Teresa had been settled into the master suite on the second floor. I had spent an hour remaking the king-sized four-poster bed with fresh Egyptian cotton sheets, lighting the stone fireplace, and placing her late husband's photographs back on the polished nightstand where they belonged. The relief on her face when she sank back into the mattress she had shared with Salvatore for thirty-five years was so profound she had fallen asleep within minutes, her hand clutching the edge of the blue blanket.

I walked down the dark, cavernous hallway toward the ground floor to fetch a glass of warm water before retiring to the small guest room Luca had insisted I use.

As I passed Luca’s private study, I saw a sliver of golden light slicing through the crack under the heavy oak double doors.

A low, menacing voice rumbled from within.

"I don't care what time it is, Dante," Luca was saying. "Get the forensic accountants into the city office before dawn. I want every ledger, every offshore wire, and every signature Michael has authorized in the last twenty-four months."

I hesitated, wondering if I should walk faster. In a house like this, knowing too much was a dangerous game.

"And Dante?" Luca continued, his tone chillingly flat. "Put four men on Vanessa’s penthouse. If she tries to contact her father or board a flight at O'Hare, detain her. But don't hurt her yet. I want the papers signed first."

I took a quiet step backward, intending to slip away, when the sole of my shoe squeaked softly against the hardwood floor.

"Who’s out there?" Luca’s voice barked instantly.

I froze. "It’s... it’s Hannah, Mr. Moretti. I was just heading downstairs."

There was a brief pause, the sound of a desk drawer sliding shut, and then the heavy oak door swung wide open.

Luca stood in the doorway. He had stripped off his suit jacket and tie; the top three buttons of his white dress shirt were undone, revealing the edge of a dark tattoo spiraling over his collarbone. His hair was slightly disheveled, and his eyes carried the heavy burden of a man whose entire foundation had just crumbled beneath him.

He looked down at me, and the tension in his shoulders visibly lessened.

"Hannah," he said softly. "Come in for a moment."

I hesitated, then nodded and stepped into the grand study.

The room was vast, lined with towering floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, rich leather armchairs, and a massive mahogany desk littered with open bank folders, blueprints, and an amber glass of bourbon. The smell of cedarwood and expensive tobacco hung in the air.

"Is she sleeping?" Luca asked, walking back behind his desk.

"Like a baby," I replied with a soft smile. "The fire kept her warm. She didn't even wake up when the thunder started outside."

Luca nodded slowly, staring into his amber glass. "She protected us from everything when we were kids. When my father was in prison during the early nineties, we had nothing. We ate pasta with butter and salt for six months. Michael was just a baby, crying every night. Mom never once complained. She cleaned hotel rooms at five in the morning and came home with smiles for us."

He clenched his glass so tightly I thought the crystal would shatter.

"And I let a viper like Vanessa treat her like trash in her own home."

"You didn't know, Mr. Moretti," I said gently, taking a step toward the desk. "Vanessa and Michael planned this very carefully. They isolated her. They told her that if she spoke up, it would destroy your business and ruin your reputation before the wedding. Teresa loves you too much to ever put herself before your happiness."

Luca looked up, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sent a shiver straight down my spine.

"And what about you, Hannah?"

"Me, sir?"

"Michael threatened your livelihood. He told my mother you’d be fired and blacklisted across the city if she said a word. You knew the risk of defying Vanessa tonight. You knew you could have ended up on the street with a sick mother to care for."

He stood up, walking around the perimeter of the desk until he was standing directly in front of me. The sheer size of him, combined with the raw, untamed power he radiated, made my breath catch in my throat.

"Why did you do it?" he asked, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. "Why risk everything for an old woman who couldn't even protect herself?"

I looked up into his eyes, refusing to look away.

"Because nobody deserves to freeze in the dark," I answered honestly. "Especially not the woman who built the house everyone else is feasting in. My mother taught me that when you see cruelty, staying silent makes you an accomplice. I couldn't live with myself if I took that blanket away."

Luca stared at me for a long, breathless moment. A flicker of something profound and unguarded crossed his features—admiration, vulnerability, and a fierce, unspoken hunger.

"You have a good heart, Hannah Collins," he murmured, his voice softer than I had ever heard it. "In my world, a good heart usually gets people killed. But as long as you are under my roof, I will ensure that yours is protected with my life."

Before I could process the weight of his words, the red landline phone on his desk began to ring.

Luca’s expression instantly hardened back into the ruthless Don. He turned, picking up the receiver on the second ring.

"Speak," he commanded.

He listened for thirty seconds, his eyes narrowing into cold slits.

"Where?" Luca demanded. "Addison? When?"

Another pause. Luca’s jaw tightened.

"Hold the perimeter," Luca ordered. "Do not engage until I get there. If Michael tries to move Sofia out of that house, shoot out the tires."

He slammed the phone down.

"What is it, Mr. Moretti?" I asked, cold dread pooling in my stomach.

Luca reached into his desk drawer, pulled out a matte-black semi-automatic pistol, checked the chamber with a crisp, practiced metallic *clack*, and tucked it inside his holster.

"Michael didn't go to a hotel," Luca said grimly. "He took three of his private security men and drove straight to West Addison. He’s trying to clear the house before we get there."

He grabbed his leather jacket and looked at me.