The first picture of my unborn baby burned in a freezing Chicago kitchen while the child’s father stood on television beside another woman and announced their engagement.

The Voss Estate in Lake Forest, Illinois, was not a home. It was a fortress disguised as a European palace.

Set on forty private acres along the icy shores of Lake Michigan, the property was surrounded by ten-foot stone walls topped with hidden security sensors, wrought-iron gates guarded twenty-four hours a day, and a team of thirty private security personnel.

The helicopter landed on the private pad behind the main mansion at midnight.

The Chicago cold hit me like a physical slap as Declan carried me down the steps and into the warmth of the grand foyer. The interior was magnificent—soaring marble ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and priceless oil paintings lining the halls.

A team of household staff stood in a silent line, bowing their heads respectfully as Declan entered.

"Prepare the master suite," Declan ordered the head housekeeper, a stern woman named Mrs. Gable. "Have the chef prepare warm soup and tea immediately."

"Yes, Mr. Voss," Mrs. Gable replied, eyeing me with quiet curiosity.

Declan carried me up the sweeping grand staircase and down a long carpeted hallway, stopping at a set of double oak doors. He pushed them open, stepping into a massive bedroom suite featuring a king-sized bed, a roaring stone fireplace, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the dark, crashing waves of Lake Michigan.

He set me down gently on the edge of the bed.

I pulled the fur coat off my shoulders, feeling exhausted beyond measure. The stress of the flight, the shootout at the airfield, and the constant fear had drained every ounce of my energy.

Declan knelt in front of me, carefully unlacing my leather boots and pulling them off my feet.

"You need to rest," he said softly.

I looked down at him, watching Chicago's most feared warlord perform the humble task of taking off my shoes.

"Where are you sleeping?" I asked quietly.

Declan paused, looking up at me with those intense gray eyes. "In the adjoining room. The door will remain open. If you need anything—anything at all—you only have to call out."

"I don't want guards outside my door, Declan."

"The guards stay in the hallway, Amelia," he said firmly, leaving no room for negotiation. "After what happened at the airfield, I am taking zero chances."

He stood up, walking over to the fireplace to add another log to the flames. The yellow light danced across his sharp jaw and the thin red line of the cut on his cheek.

"Savannah Calloway," I said, breaking the silence. "What happens to her now?"

Declan turned around, leaning his lower back against the stone mantelpiece.

"Savannah and her father were formally indicted by a federal grand jury six hours ago," Declan said calmly. "They were charged with multiple counts of racketeering, illegal gambling, and attempted murder linked to the airfield attack. Victor Calloway will spend the rest of his life in a maximum-security prison. Savannah will likely serve ten to fifteen years."

I stared at him. "You set the whole thing up."

"I took down a rival family that has been threatening my business for a decade," Declan corrected coldly. "And I did it cleanly, through the Department of Justice."

"Using yourself as bait," I realized. "And using me."

Declan’s expression darkened instantly. He crossed the room in three long strides, stopping right in front of the bed.

"I never used you," he growled, leaning down until his face was inches from mine. "I spent four months living in hell because I thought you were gone. I tore down the Calloway empire because Victor dared to put your name in his mouth. Don't ever accuse me of using you."

I looked into his eyes, seeing the raw, unvarnished truth shining there. He was dangerous, he was terrifying, but his obsession with protecting me was absolute.

"I'm tired, Declan," I whispered, lowering my gaze.

He took a deep breath, forcing his anger down. He reached out, his thumb gently brushing against my cheek.

"Sleep, sweetheart," he whispered. "Dr. Aris will be here at eight tomorrow morning for a full ultrasound. We're going to see our baby."

He turned off the main lights, leaving only the soft glow of the fireplace, and walked toward the adjoining door.