The dining hall smelled like rosemary and burnt candle wax. Sophia stood behind the kitchen door, her small palm pressed flat against the wood, her little sister Meera tucked against her side like a second shadow

At eight o'clock the following morning, the sun broke weakly through the grey clouds.

Elena stood outside the heavy mahogany door of Mateo Moretti’s private office, her knees trembling beneath her clean apron. She had brushed her hair back into a tight bun and wiped away every trace of tears, but her hands refused to stop shaking.

She knocked twice.

"Come in," a deep voice called out from inside.

Elena pushed the door open and stepped into the grand room. Bookshelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, and a massive oak desk sat before a window overlooking the estate garden. Mateo was sitting behind the desk, reading through a stack of legal documents. He wore a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a black vest, and no tie.

"Mr. Moretti," Elena said, bowing her head slightly. "You asked to see me."

Mateo set his pen down and pointed to the leather chair across from him. "Sit down, Elena."

"I can stand, sir—"

"Sit."

Elena sat down on the edge of the leather cushion, her hands folded tightly in her lap.

Mateo pulled the manila folder Marco had given him the night before and laid it flat between them. He didn't open it. He just rested his hands on top of it.

"Your real name is Elena Ross," Mateo said quietly.

Elena felt the breath leave her lungs. The room seemed to spin. She gripped the arms of the chair so hard her knuckles turned white.

"Sir... please," she whispered, her voice choking up. "I had nothing to do with what Julian did! He left us! He took everything and left me with two babies! I didn't know where else to go..."

"I know," Mateo said simply. "If you were involved, you wouldn't be working twelve hours a day washing my floors for a maid's salary."

Elena looked up, tears brimming in her eyes. "You're going to give us to the Romanos?"

Mateo leaned back in his chair, studying her face. "Don Romano was in my house last night. He doesn't know you're here yet. But he’s increasing his pressure on my territory. It won't be long before his men start sniffing around my staff records."

"We'll leave," Elena pleaded, desperate. "I'll pack our things right now. We'll take a bus out of the state, out of the country—"

"If you leave this estate," Mateo interrupted, his voice dropping into a stern tone, "Romano’s men will catch you before you reach the bus station. You have no money, no security, and two young children. You wouldn't survive three days."

Elena lowered her head, sobbing quietly into her apron. "Then what am I supposed to do?"

Mateo stood up and walked over to the window, looking out into the yard where Sophia and Meera were sitting on a stone bench under the supervision of Rosa, the old housekeeper.

"You stay," Mateo commanded.

Elena blinked. "What?"

"From today, you are no longer a maid," Mateo declared. "You and your daughters will move out of the garage apartment and into the guest suites on the third floor of the main house. You will be given a stipend, and my personal security detail will monitor your movements."

Elena stared at him as if he had spoken in a foreign language. "Why? Why would you do this for us? We're nobody to you."

Mateo turned around, his dark eyes fixing onto hers with absolute finality.

"Because last night, your seven-year-old daughter walked into my dining room, faced two armed men, and asked for food for her sister," Mateo said softly. "In my world, loyalty and courage are rare. I protect those who show it."