For three years, a notorious mafia boss sent back every single meal untouched—until a quiet waitress served him a humble dish that unlocked a scent from a past he thought was long gone.

Two weeks passed.

The betrayal of Julian Mercer triggered a full-scale underworld war in New York City.

Enzo’s men launched relentless, coordinated raids against Don Marcone’s illegal gambling operations, warehouses, and docks across Brooklyn and Queens. The news headlines were filled with reports of mysterious fires at private docks and sudden, violent clashes between rival shipping companies.

Inside the Caruso estate, Sarah’s body was finally beginning to heal. Her stitches were removed by the private physician, and she was able to walk around the estate gardens without help.

During those two weeks, something subtle changed between Sarah and Enzo.

He no longer treated her as a temporary political asset. Every evening, no matter how busy or bloody his day had been, Enzo returned to the estate to have dinner with Sarah, Toby, and Leo. He listened as Sarah talked about her dreams of opening her own small bakery, and he shared stories about his childhood in Sicily before his father brought him to America.

One chilly autumn evening, Sarah was standing on the second-floor balcony of her suite, looking out over the dark waters of Long Island Sound.

A heavy wool blanket was wrapped around her shoulders.

Soft footfalls sounded behind her, and Enzo walked out onto the balcony, holding two mugs of steaming hot chocolate.

He handed one to her, his fingers brushing against hers.

"Thank you," Sarah said, taking a sip. "How were the docks today?"

"Quiet," Enzo replied, leaning his arms over the stone balustrade. "Marcone’s organization is collapsing. He’s lost seventy percent of his territory in two weeks. He’s hiding in a fortified compound in Staten Island."

Sarah looked at his side profile—the sharp jaw, the dark eyes, the subtle lines of stress around his mouth.

"And when he’s gone?" Sarah asked softly. "What happens to us?"

Enzo turned his head to look at her. The moonlight reflected softly in her hazel eyes.

"Is that what you want, Sarah?" Enzo asked, his voice low and intense. "For this to end? For you to take your fifteen million dollars and walk away?"

Sarah opened her mouth to answer, but the words caught in her throat. Two weeks ago, her only goal had been survival and securing Toby’s future. But now... she looked forward to his return every evening. She loved seeing the way Leo smiled when Enzo held his hand. She felt safe near him.

Before she could answer, a loud, deafening explosion rocked the estate.

BOOM!

The glass windows of the second-floor suite shattered inward. The ground shook violently, throwing Sarah against Enzo’s chest.

Thick black smoke billowed from the front gates of the estate, followed immediately by the rapid, terrifying chatter of automatic gunfire.

"They're inside!" Marco’s voice screamed over Enzo’s radio walkie-talkie. "Boss! Marcone brought three armored trucks through the front gates! They breached the perimeter!"

Enzo didn't hesitate for a single second. He wrapped his arm around Sarah’s waist, pulling her back into the suite away from the shattered balcony glass.

"Marcone knew he was losing," Enzo said grimly, pulling a heavy tactical pistol from his shoulder holster. "He’s desperate. He brought his entire remaining force to end this tonight."

He looked Sarah dead in the eyes, his hand cupping her cheek with fierce tenderness.

"Listen to me, Sarah," Enzo commanded. "Go to the safe room behind my office in the west wing. Take Toby and Leo inside, lock the steel door from the inside, and do not open it for anyone except me."

"Enzo, no!" Sarah cried, holding his jacket. "There are too many of them!"

"This is my home, Sarah," Enzo said, his eyes blazing with deadly, unyielding power. "And nobody threatens my family."