The champagne glass hit me before I understood someone had thrown it. One second, I was balancing a silver tray beneath the amber chandeliers of Bellamy House, calculating

For two glorious months, the Moretti estate felt less like a criminal fortress and more like a real, loving home.

Luca began restructuring his operations, systematically cutting ties with illegal waterfront rackets and transitioning the Moretti family assets into legitimate real estate, shipping logistics, and philanthropic foundations. He did it quietly, but his intention was clear: he was building a clean, safe future for Mateo and me.

Our days were filled with warmth. Luca started joining us for breakfast every morning. He laughed more, his harsh edges softening whenever Mateo dragged him into playing board games or when I caught him watching me from across the room with unbridled devotion.

We were a family in every sense that mattered. But in Luca's world, the past never stays buried forever.

It was a Tuesday afternoon. Mateo was at his private school in the city, accompanied by Marcus and two security cars. I was in the estate garden, picking fresh roses for the dining room table, when Marco approached me, his scar twisted into a deep, troubled frown.

"Claire," Marco said gruffly. "You have a visitor at the main gate."

I paused, holding a pair of shears. "A visitor? Nobody knows I'm here except the staff."

"It's a woman," Marco said tightly. "She claims she’s an old friend of yours from the Lower East Side."

My stomach dipped nervously. I followed Marco to the estate's glass security parlor near the front gates. Standing inside, pacing nervously while admiring the marble floor, was a woman in a cheap leopard-print coat and high heels.

It was Gina—my former coworker from Bellamy House, the head waitress who had always taken pleasure in handing me double shifts and terrible tippers.

When she saw me walk in, wearing a soft cashmere sweater and custom tailored trousers, her jaw dropped in utter disbelief.

"Claire?" Gina gasped, looking me up and down. "Look at you... living like a queen in a mob boss's castle!"

"How did you find me, Gina?" I asked coldly, keeping my distance.

Gina put her hands on her hips, a bitter smile spreading across her face. "It wasn't hard. Half the serving community in Manhattan is talking about the broke waitress who got fired for dropping plates and ended up in Luca Moretti's bed."

"If you came here to insult me—"

"I came here to warn you," Gina interrupted, her tone dropping into a sharp, malicious whisper. "Or maybe to give you a reality check. You think you're special, Claire? You think a man like Luca Moretti actually cares about a girl who couldn't afford rent three months ago?"

"Luca treats me with respect," I said firmly. "Something you know nothing about."

"He's using you!" Gina sneered, stepping closer against the reinforced glass divider. "The federal prosecutors are building a massive RICO indictment against the Moretti family. They’ve been wiretapping Bellamy House for a year. The prosecutor approached me yesterday, asking questions about the night you took that glass shard."

Cold dread seeped into my veins. "What are you talking about?"

"They think you were put there on purpose," Gina laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. "They think you're part of his money-laundering network now. The feds are coming for this house, Claire. And when Luca gets locked away for life, he’ll let you take the fall to protect his legacy. Men like him don't love women like us. They use us as shields."