“My baby is gone, but my body still thinks she’s alive.” The words barely left my mouth as I pressed a cold washcloth against my chest inside a restroom at St.

Four months passed like a beautiful dream.

Spring arrived in Connecticut, covering the Moretti estate in brilliant green lawns, blooming cherry blossoms, and warm sunlight. Anthony and Lucia grew rapidly, turning into chubby, healthy four-month-old babies who laughed at the sound of my voice and fell asleep only when I sang my mother’s lullaby.

My contract as a wet nurse was technically coming to an end. The babies were starting on solid purees, their health entirely restored, their pediatricians declaring them miracles of growth.

I sat on a blanket under a massive oak tree in the back garden, helping Lucia hold a soft plush rabbit while Anthony kicked his legs in the grass.

I wore a simple yellow sundress, the warm spring breeze blowing my hair across my face.

Footsteps approached over the grass. I looked up to see Gabriel walking toward us, dressed in a casual linen shirt and slacks, leaving his work behind for the afternoon.

Over the past four months, Gabriel had transformed. The cold, terrifying billionaire crime boss the world feared had become a present, devoted father. And slowly, quietly, something deep and powerful had grown between us—built on late-night conversations over tea, shared smiles over crib railings, and a quiet trust that needed no words.

Gabriel sat down on the blanket beside me, picking up Anthony and lifting him high in the air, making the baby boy squeal with delight.

“He’s getting heavy,” Gabriel smiled, setting Anthony on his lap. He looked over at me, his dark eyes fixed on my face with an intensity that made my heart race.

“The doctor said they’re ready for full weaning next month,” I said quietly, looking down at my hands. A small pang of sadness pinched my heart. “They won't need my milk anymore.”

Gabriel went quiet for a moment. He set Anthony down next to his sister on the blanket and turned to face me completely.

“Is that why you’re sad, Emma?” Gabriel asked softly.

I swallowed hard, looking out over the blooming gardens. “I promised myself I wouldn't get too attached. I told myself I was just doing a job. But... I love them, Gabriel. I love them with everything I have left.”

Gabriel reached out, taking both of my hands into his.

“Then don't leave,” Gabriel said, his voice deep, clear, and steady.

I looked up, startled. “What?”

“I didn't bring you here just to be a nurse, Emma,” Gabriel revealed, his thumb stroking the back of my hand. “In the beginning, yes, I was desperate to save my children. But over these months... I’ve watched you bring light back into this dead house. I’ve watched you love my children as if they were your own.”

He leaned in closer, his gaze locked onto mine, completely bare of any armor.

“I love you, Emma,” Gabriel whispered, his voice thick with sincere emotion. “My children need you. And God help me... I need you too.”

Tears welled in my eyes, shining under the afternoon sun. The lingering grief of my past, the fear of heartbreak, the ache of loss—all of it dissolved under the warmth of his words.