Three days after marrying me, Roman Calder abandoned me inside a freezing manor on the edge of Lake Erie and drove away without looking back.

By dawn, the blizzard had finally spent its fury.

The morning sun rose over Lake Erie in a brilliant display of gold, pink, and orange, casting warm light across the snow-covered grounds of Grayhaven Manor.

The estate grounds were now quiet. Federal agents and state troopers had spent the last three hours processing the scene. Viktor and his surviving lieutenants had been hauled away in armored transport vans, facing a mountain of federal charges that ensured they would never see the light of day again.

The local news was already broadcasting the story: Federal Raid at Lakefront Estate Exposes Rochester Crime Syndicate. Roman’s name had been completely cleared of wrongdoing—framed by the District Attorney as a heroic property owner who had assisted federal authorities in bringing down a dangerous cartel.

Inside the master suite, the fire was roaring.

I sat on the edge of the grand four-poster bed, wrapped in a thick wool blanket, holding a warm cup of herbal tea. My lungs had finally settled, supported by the warm air and the relief that filled every corner of my chest.

The door opened softly, and Roman stepped inside.

He had bathed and changed into a soft black sweater and trousers. The violent, dangerous monster from the night before was gone, replaced by a man who looked quiet, humbled, and deeply tired.

He walked over to the bed, stopping a few feet away, as if unsure whether he was permitted to come closer.

"The children are upstairs eating breakfast," Roman said softly. "Caleb is taking them out to build a snowman in the courtyard later. They think the noise last night was just thunder."

A small, genuine smile touched my lips. "Thank you for that."

Roman looked around the warm, beautifully restored room, then down at his hands.

"The federal investigators are finished," he murmured. "Viktor's entire network has been dismantled. The shipping routes in Buffalo are secure under legal management. There are no more threats, Evelyn. No more shadows."

I set my tea cup down on the nightstand and looked up at him. "So... what happens now, Roman?"

Roman took a deep, heavy breath. He walked over and slowly sank down onto his knees in front of me, taking my hands in his. His large, calloused fingers were warm, trembling slightly as he held mine.

"Now," Roman said, his dark eyes brimming with raw, unshielded emotion, "I give you back your life."

I stared at him, my brow furrowing. "What do you mean?"

"I have instructed my attorneys to draft divorce papers," Roman said, each word sounding like a painful blow to his own chest. "I gave you three years of hell, Evelyn. I brought violence to your door. I forced you to become a soldier when you should have been allowed to live in peace. You built this estate without me. You don't need my protection, and you certainly don't need my baggage."

He squeezed my hands gently, looking up at me with absolute reverence.

"Everything—Grayhaven Manor, the orchards, the accounts—will be placed entirely in your name. I will leave for Detroit afternoon, and I will never bother you again."

Silence filled the sunny bedroom.

I looked down at the man kneeling at my feet—the feared mob boss who had conquered empires, reduced corrupt politicians to silence, and defeated a bloodthirsty cartel... currently offering to give up everything he loved just to ensure my happiness.

I pulled my hands from his grip.

Roman’s face fell, a look of profound heartbreak crossing his features as he prepared to stand up.

Instead of letting him rise, I reached out and cupped his face with both of my hands, forcing him to look me directly in the eyes.

"You really are an idiot, Roman Calder," I said softly, tears glistening in my eyes.

Roman blinked, stunned. "Evelyn?"

"Did you really think I spent three years fixing this house just to keep it for myself?" I asked, a tear slipping down my cheek. "Did you think I stood on that porch and fought your mother's ghost, your enemies, and the winter cold just because I liked the architecture?"

Roman’s breath hitched. "I... I don't understand."

"I fixed this house because it was yours," I whispered, leaning down until my forehead rested against his. "Because three years ago, despite your cold words and your immediate departure, I saw a broken, bleeding man who looked at me like I was his last chance at salvation. I built a home, Roman... so that when you finally came back from your war, you would have a place worth coming home to."

Roman let out a shaky, choked breath. He wrapped his massive arms around my waist, burying his face into the crook of my neck, holding me so tightly it felt as though he were trying to fuse our two souls together.

"I love you, Evelyn," Roman sobbed silently against my skin, giving voice to the truth he had carried through three years of dark, violent solitude. "God help me, I have loved you since the day I watched you stand up to your father in that small chapel."

"Then don't leave," I whispered, tangling my fingers in his dark hair, kissing his cheek, his temple, his lips. "Stay here. Stay with me. Be a husband. Be a father to those children upstairs. Help me run this house."