THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME SPOON-FEED HIS FRAIL GRANDMOTHER WITH TWO BANDAGED FINGERS—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “SHE CAUGHT THEM IN THE BEDROOM DOOR,” EVEN THOUGH I HAD TOLD NO ONE.

The scandal broke before dawn.

By six in the morning, every financial blog, tabloid, and society column in New York was buzzing with the news: *Luca Moretti Breaks Engagement with Isabella Sterling at Annual Foundation Gala.*

The rumors were wild and conflicting. Some claimed Isabella had been caught having an affair. Others claimed Victor Sterling had attempted to defraud the Moretti shipping lines. But a few whispered the truth: that Luca had thrown his fiancée out of the house after she attacked a member of his household staff.

I sat at the small kitchen table in the staff quarters, staring down at my cup of chamomile tea.

My hand ached with a dull, throbbing rhythm beneath the splint, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the storm raging inside my chest.

I had caused this.

If I hadn't taken the job, if I hadn't been in the blue room, if I had simply stepped out of Isabella’s way sooner, none of this would have happened. Luca had risked his company, his family reputation, and a multi-million-dollar shipping alliance—all to defend me.

A quiet knock sounded at the door.

I looked up. The door swung open, and Luca walked in.

He wasn't wearing his usual tailored three-piece suit. He wore dark trousers and a simple black cashmere sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his forearms. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and dark circles shadowed his eyes. He looked tired, but his posture was as commanding as ever.

“You’re up early,” Luca said, closing the door behind him.

I stood up quickly. “Mr. Moretti. You shouldn't be down here in the staff quarters.”

“Emma,” he sighed, walking over and pulling out the wooden chair opposite mine. “Sit down. Please.”

I hesitated, then sank back into my chair.

He placed a manila folder on the wooden table between us.

“What is that?” I asked.

“Lily’s medical trust,” Luca said quietly.

My heart stopped. “What?”

“I had our legal team draft an independent medical endowment this morning,” he explained, his voice calm and even. “It has been funded with five million dollars under Lily’s name. No one—not Victor Sterling, not Isabella, not even the Moretti board of directors—can touch it. Her treatments, her hospital stay, and her future care are guaranteed for the rest of her life.”

Tears sprang into my eyes, hot and overwhelming. My vision blurred.

“Luca…” The name slipped out before I could stop myself. It was the first time I had ever called him by his first name.

A subtle warmth flickered in his dark eyes at the sound of his name on my lips.

“Why would you do that?” I choked out, wiping at my cheeks with my good hand. “I am just your grandmother’s assistant. You don't owe me anything. You’ve already ruined your alliance with the Sterlings for me. Why would you do this?”

Luca leaned forward across the small table, resting his forearms on the wood. His gaze was intense, unblinking.

“I didn't break the engagement for you, Emma,” he said softly.

A cold pang of confusion tightened my chest. “You didn't?”

“I broke it because Isabella is a monster,” he said, his voice dropping into a harsh, bitter cadence. “And because she is not the first person she has hurt.”

I stared at him.

Luca opened the manila folder, revealing three police incident reports from four years ago.

“Two years before my father’s stroke, Isabella was engaged to a young architect named David Vance,” Luca explained, his jaw tight. “When David tried to end the engagement, he suffered a hit-and-run outside his office. His legs were crushed. The driver was never identified, but the car was registered to a shell company owned by Victor Sterling’s brother.”

A shiver ran down my spine.

“And last year,” Luca continued, “one of my grandmother’s former maids ‘accidentally’ fell down the east terrace stairs after Isabella accused her of stealing a pair of diamond earrings. The girl left the state without pressing charges. Isabella paid her off before I could investigate.”

Luca looked down at his hands, his fists clenching tightly.

“My father ignored the signs because he was obsessed with the Sterling alliance,” Luca said, his voice laced with regret. “When he fell ill, he made me promise on his bedside to honor the marriage contract. I thought I could manage her. I thought I could keep her isolated from the family business and maintain the peace.”

He looked up, meeting my eyes with a raw vulnerability that took my breath away.

“Then I saw what she did to your hand,” Luca said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I saw the fear in your eyes when you tried to lie to protect yourself. And I realized that if I married that woman, I would become just as guilty as she is.”

“Luca…” I reached out with my left hand, hesitating for a fraction of a second before resting my fingers lightly over his clenched fist.

His skin was warm, his muscles tight with tension. As soon as my fingers touched his, his hand relaxed, turning over to weave his fingers through mine.

“You didn't cause this, Emma,” he said, his thumb brushing against the back of my hand. “You saved me from a prison of my own making.”

The air between us grew thick, charged with an undeniable, electric current. For months, I had hidden my feelings behind professional deference, forcing myself to look away whenever he entered a room, telling myself that a man like Luca Moretti could never look at a girl like me with anything more than polite indifference.

Now, holding his hand in the quiet staff kitchen, the truth was undeniable.

He cared.

He cared with a ferocity that terrified me.

The door to the kitchen suddenly creaked open.

We both pulled our hands back instinctively.

Mrs. Bellini stood in the doorway, supported by her silver cane, wearing her favorite lavender cardigan. Her sharp eyes darted from Luca’s face to mine, taking in the scene with quiet amusement.

“Grandmother,” Luca said, clearing his throat and standing up. “You should be resting.”

“I’ve had quite enough rest, thank you,” Mrs. Bellini said, walking slowly toward the table. “And you, my dear grandson, need to check your phone. Julian has just arrived at the front gate.”

Luca’s expression instantly turned to stone.

“Julian?” Luca’s voice was laced with poison. “What is he doing here?”

Mrs. Bellini took a seat, her face growing serious. “He claims he’s here to offer his condolences regarding the broken engagement. But we both know Julian never visits unless there is blood in the water.”

Julian Moretti was Luca’s first cousin—and the chief rival for the Moretti empire. Ambitious, ruthless, and deeply bitter that Luca had inherited the chairman’s seat instead of him, Julian had spent the last three years looking for any weakness in Luca’s armor.

“Tell Marco not to let him past the courtyard,” Luca commanded.