I was eight months pregnant, barefoot in the freezing rain, and nearly bald after my own mother-in-law ordered my hair hacked off inside her mansion

The aftermath of Eleanor’s arrest sent shockwaves through the elite social circles of New York. The headlines were relentless: KANE FAMILY MATRIARCH ARRESTED FOR MULTI-MILLION DOLLAR FRAUD AND CONSPIRACY.

Despite the victory, the trauma of the night in the storm lingered like a dark cloud. I was eight and a half months pregnant now, and my body was feeling the immense strain of the stress and physical ordeal I had endured.

Roman refused to leave my side. He moved his entire executive office to our penthouse, running Kane Capital via encrypted video streams while personally overseeing every aspect of my care.

One quiet evening, as rain pattered softly against the balcony glass, I sat on the plush sofa, reading a book. Roman was sitting on the floor beside me, his head resting against my knee while his hand gently stroked my rounded bump.

"She's kicking," Roman whispered, a soft smile finally breaking through his usually stern features.

"She’s an active one," I smiled back, running my fingers through Roman's dark hair. "Just like her father."

Roman fell silent for a moment, his eyes drifting toward the city lights. "I never knew about my father, Bianca. I spent twenty years believing he died suddenly. I hated him for leaving me alone with her. And all this time... she had him locked away."

"It wasn't your fault, Roman," I said softly, bending down to kiss his cheek. "You were just a boy. But you saved him now. The team in Switzerland has secured his transfer to a proper medical care facility. The doctors say he might even regain full consciousness with proper treatment."

Roman looked up at me, his eyes filled with an intense warmth and deep gratitude. "You did that, Bianca. A girl from Queens who walked into a filthy alley five years ago and saved my life... and now you've saved my entire family."

"I told you back in that alley," I grinned teasingly. "I don't have time to be nervous. I just fix things."

Before Roman could reply, his personal phone rang on the coffee table. It was an unlisted, private number from Switzerland.

Roman answered it, putting it on speaker.

"Mr. Kane?" a calm, accented voice of a Swiss doctor spoke through the line. "This is Dr. Webber from the Geneva Neurological Institute."

"How is he?" Roman asked, holding his breath.

"Your father, Harrison, has emerged from his medically induced stupor," Dr. Webber reported gently. "He is very weak, but he is fully coherent. He asked to speak to his son."