689 "The most feared mafia boss in the country pointed a gun at my head while I cradled his dying baby against my chest, convinced I was kidnapping his son. Then the child swallowed for the first time in weeks, and I realized the real danger wasn't standing in front of me—it was already living inside his mansion.

Living in the master suite of the Rossi estate was like existing in a heavily fortified palace.

Within a week, Leo’s transformation was miraculous. The hollows in his cheeks filled out, his pale skin gained a healthy pink glow, and his faint whimpers turned into clear, strong baby laughs. Every time he fed, I felt a bittersweet warmth—a feeling that my lost daughter Lily was somehow sending her love through me to save this helpless boy.

Lorenzo checked on us every single night at midnight, regardless of how busy or bloody his work was.

He would walk in quietly, strip off his tailored suit jacket, sit in the armchair beside the crib, and simply watch me hold his son. He was a man of few words, but his presence was overwhelming.

"You haven't asked for your money," Lorenzo noted one evening, leaning back in the chair with a crystal glass of scotch in his hand.

"I don't care about the money," I said, laying a sleeping Leo back into his mahogany crib. "I just wanted to survive. And... feeding him healed a part of me that I thought was dead forever."

Lorenzo looked at me intently, his dark eyes reflecting the warm amber fire light of the fireplace.

"I know about your daughter," he said softly.

I froze. "How?"

"I run an intelligence network, Clara. I look into everyone who breathes the same air as my son." Lorenzo took a slow sip of his drink. "Her name was Lily. Born sleeping at thirty-eight weeks because that scum Marcus pushed you."

A lump formed in my throat, and I looked down at my hands. "It hurt so much. Every time I woke up, my body prepared to feed a baby that wasn't there."

Lorenzo stood up, his tall frame blocking the firelight. He walked over and stopped just inches from me. Without saying a word, he lifted his hand and gently wiped a stray tear from my cheek. His fingers were rough, calloused from years of handling weapons, yet his touch was impossibly tender.

"Marcus will pay for what he did to Lily," Lorenzo promised, his voice low and commandingly absolute. "I swear it to you."

"Lorenzo..." I whispered, looking up into his eyes.

For the first time, I realized I wasn't afraid of him. I was drawn to him. He was a monster to the rest of the world, but to Leo and me, he was a fortress.

Before another word could be spoken, Lorenzo’s chief of security, a giant man named Dante, knocked urgently on the door frame.

"Boss," Dante said grimly. "We have a problem. The Moretti family just filed a legal petition with the state police. They're accusing you of child endangerment and hiring an unregistered, mentally unstable woman to keep the baby away from medical professionals."