Men like me never announced when we were coming home. For fifteen years, unpredictability had kept me alive through ambushes, federal raids, and men who

The three words hung in the grand marble kitchen, heavier than the silence that had preceded them.

I felt the blood drain entirely from my face. My breath caught in my throat, freezing me in place. I looked down at my eldest daughter—her small, tear-streaked face raised up to mine, her eyes burning with a mix of raw fury and intense terror.

"Lucia..." My voice was a broken rasp. I dropped to my knees right there on the flour-dusted floor, bringing myself level with her. I reached out to touch her shoulders, but the moment my fingers brushed her sweater, she flinched hard and pulled back, ducking behind the young maid.

The maid—whose name badge read Elena—instinctively stepped in front of all three girls. She placed a protective arm over Lucia and Mia, her hazel eyes locking onto mine. There was no fear of my reputation in her gaze, only a fierce, lioness-like instinct to guard the children.

"Mr. Russo," Elena said quietly, her voice trembling slightly but standing her ground. "Please. Look at them. They're terrified."

"Dominic," Rosa stepped forward, her voice trembling as she placed a hand on my shoulder. "She doesn't know what she's saying. It's the trauma, son."

"She said I killed Isabella," I choked out, staring at the floorboards where my daughter had just stood. The words felt like jagged glass scraping down my throat. "Lucia thinks... she thinks I murdered her mother."

I looked up at Elena. She wasn't just any maid. Now that I looked closer, her posture was too deliberate, her movements too controlled. She didn't flinch when I barked orders, and she had instinctively formed a physical barrier between a notorious mafia boss and three traumatized children without hesitation.

"Who are you really?" I growled, rising back to my full height, the grief in my chest instantly hardening into suspicion. "Rosa, where did you find her?"

"Her name is Elena Vance," Rosa answered quickly, placing herself between us. "Her family worked for the legal department at your firm years ago before... before her father passed. She has top clearances, Dominic. I vetted her myself."

Elena didn't blink. "I came here to clean and care for three broken little girls, Mr. Russo. I didn't come here to be interrogated. But if you want to know why Lucia said that... maybe you should look at what's been happening in this house while you've been off playing judge, jury, and executioner across the city."

My hand twitched near my holster. My men would have executed anyone else for speaking to me in that tone. But my daughters were clinging to her skirt like she was their only lifeline.

"Explain," I commanded.

Elena took a slow breath, gently stroking Lucia's hair. "Lucia didn't mean you physically pulled a trigger, Mr. Russo. Children don't process corporate warfare or cartel hits. For fourteen months, all these girls have heard from the guards outside their doors, from the news on the television, and from your own visitors is that Isabella died because she was married to you. They believe your life killed her."