Lorenzo Rossi, the most feared Mafia boss in the city, pointed a gun straight at my head while I cradled his dying baby against my bare chest. He was certain I had crossed him—until his son finally swallowed after weeks of refusing every feeding, and I told Lorenzo the unthinkable: someone inside his own mansion might have been starving the child on purpose.

Six months later.

The Duca-Rossi estate had been fully restored, grander, more beautiful, and infinitely more secure than it had ever been in its history.

It was a brilliant Saturday afternoon in late spring. The manicured lawns of the courtyard sparkled in the golden sunlight, vibrant flowerbeds bloomed along the winding stone pathways, and the sweet scent of blooming jasmine drifted on the warm breeze.

I sat on a velvet chaise lounge on the sprawling marble terrace, wearing a light, elegant ivory summer dress.

In the grass just a few feet away, eight-month-old Leo was crawling furiously across a colorful picnic blanket, laughing hysterically as he chased a bouncing red rubber ball.

Standing right beside him was Lorenzo.

The feared mafia boss of Chicago was currently down on his hands and knees on the grass, wearing a casual black linen shirt with his sleeves rolled up, growling playfully like a friendly monster as he let Leo tackle his leg.

I couldn't help laughing out loud, watching the man who made million-dollar criminal syndicates tremble turn into a giggling, doting father on a sunny afternoon.

Lorenzo looked up, catching the sound of my laughter. He scooped Leo into one arm, stood up effortlessly, and walked across the terrace toward me, the baby babbling happily and clapping his chubby hands.

Lorenzo sat down on the edge of the chaise lounge beside me, leaning over to press a warm, lingering kiss to my lips.

"What's so funny?" Lorenzo asked, a rare, breathtaking smile playing across his face.

"I was just thinking about the night we met," I smiled, resting my head against his broad shoulder as Leo reached out and grabbed a handful of my hair with a squeal of delight. "If someone had told me back then—while I was scrubbing floors in a maid's uniform and terrified for my life—that I'd end up here... I never would have believed it."

Lorenzo’s arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer against his chest, his warm breath stirring my hair.

"Neither would I," he murmured, his voice rich with emotion. "I spent my whole life believing that love and family were weaknesses in my world—things my enemies could use to destroy me. Then you walked into that nursery, holding a dying baby to your bare chest, and showed me what true strength looks like."

He reached out with his free hand, sliding a delicate, breathtaking diamond ring onto my left ring finger—a ring that had been resting in his pocket all morning.

I gasped, staring down at it in stunned silence, my heart soaring.

"Clara," Lorenzo said, his dark eyes burning with absolute, unending devotion. "You saved my son's life. You brought light back into a house that had been buried in ash for fifteen years. Marry me. Be a mother to Leo, and rule this empire by my side, forever."

Tears of pure, overwhelming joy spilled over my eyelashes.

"Yes," I whispered, throwing my arms around his neck and pressing my lips to his in a deep, passionate kiss. "Yes, Lorenzo. A thousand times, yes."

On the grass beside us, little Leo let out a happy cheer, clapping his hands together as the afternoon sun wrapped around us in a warm, eternal embrace.