Three days later, the rain had returned to Boston, but inside the sunlit, third-floor apartment in South Boston, the air was warm, sweet, and filled with the scent of roasting chicken and fresh rosemary.

Elena stood in the spacious, modern kitchen, staring out the floor-to-ceiling glass windows at the harbor.

The apartment was magnificent. Hardwood floors, leather furniture, a fully stocked pantry, and a bedroom for Mila filled with soft stuffed animals, new clothes, and three brand-new pairs of sturdy leather boots.

Down on the street, parked across from the building's entrance, sat a discreet black SUV containing two of Alessandro’s guards.

Her phone rang on the quartz kitchen counter.

Elena picked it up. "Hello?"

"Elena," Alessandro’s deep, raspy voice came through the line, sending a strange, thrilling warmth through her chest. "Are the guards treating you well?"

"They brought Mila two ice cream sundaes yesterday, Mr. Moretti," Elena said, a slight smile touching her lips. "I think they’re trying to bribe my five-year-old."

A low chuckle echoed from his end. "Good. Children should be bribed with ice cream. How are you holding up?"

"I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop," Elena admitted honestly, leaning against the counter. "I’ve never had money, Alessandro. I keep waiting for someone to knock on the door and tell me there's been a mistake."

"There are no mistakes, Elena," Alessandro said, his tone shifting into something darker, heavier. "Marco Rossi has been dealt with."

Elena froze, her hand tightening around the phone. "Dealt with?"

"He tried to flee to Montreal yesterday afternoon," Alessandro explained flatly. "My men intercepted him at the border. The syndicate is unified once more. The war is over."

"And... what happens to you now?" Elena asked softly.

"Now I clean up the remaining trash," Alessandro said. "And then... I would like to come to dinner. If the offer still stands."

Elena looked at the roasting chicken in the oven, then down at her hands. She knew who he was. He was a dangerous man, a ruler of a violent world that she had no business entering.

Yet, when she closed her eyes, she didn't see the mafia don. She saw the man bleeding behind the dumpster, warning her to take her child and run.

"Dinner is at seven, Alessandro," Elena said softly. "Don't be late."