"MAFIA BOSS CAME HOME EARLY — AND FROZE WHEN HE SAW WHO WAS SCRUBBING HIS SHIRT

The purge of Bernardo Vance’s loyalists took three days.

Across the five boroughs, Alessandro’s strike teams moved with terrifying speed, seizing warehouses, clearing out illegal gambling dens, and liquidating assets tied to Bernardo’s corrupt empire. The underworld was reeling; news that the Wolf of the East River had executed his own uncle and restructured his entire syndicate sent shockwaves through every crime family from New York to Philadelphia.

Yet, amidst the violence and high-stakes corporate takeovers, the third floor of the Moretti mansion remained a quiet island of peace.

Sophia was recovering rapidly under Dr. Mercer’s care. Her fever was completely gone, her wound healing cleanly, though she was still weak and confined to a wheelchair.

Emma, on the other hand, had taken full ownership of the three-story stone estate.

The once-silent halls—where guards used to walk on tiptoes and servants spoke only in hushed whispers—now echoed with the sound of a three-year-old’s giggles, the pitter-patter of tiny patent-leather shoes, and the occasional crash of an expensive antique vase being tipped over by a stray rubber ball.

Alessandro didn't care.

In fact, his security team was astonished to see their cold, ruthless boss walking through the grand hallways carrying a armful of stuffed animals, or sitting on the floor of his mahogany-lined study while a toddler tried to draw smiley faces on five-hundred-dollar leather legal folders.

"Boss," Marco said, stepping into the study late one afternoon, holding a thick stack of financial documents. "We ran into a complication with Bernardo’s Brooklyn assets."

Alessandro didn't look up from his desk. He was busy carefully taping together a piece of colored paper that Emma had accidentally torn.

"What complication?" Alessandro asked calmly.

"Bernardo didn't operate alone in Brooklyn," Marco explained, his face grim. "He was working with Don Paulie 'The Butcher' Scarfo—head of the Brooklyn docks syndicate. Scarfo claims Bernardo owed him four million dollars in gambling debts. He’s seized three of our shipping warehouses on Pier 42 and says he’ll burn them to the ground if we don't pay up by midnight."

Alessandro stopped taping the paper. He smoothed it down, set it aside, and leaned back in his leather executive chair.

"Paulie Scarfo," Alessandro murmured, his eyes narrowing. "A pig who thinks he’s a lion because he operates in the shadows of the outer boroughs. Does he know Bernardo is dead?"

"He knows," Marco replied. "And he thinks you're vulnerable right now because of the internal purge. He thinks you're distracted by... the maid and the kid."

Alessandro stood up slowly. He adjusted the gold cuff links on his white shirt.

"Sophia," Alessandro called softly toward the adjoining sitting room, where Sophia was reading a book by the window.

"Yes, Alessandro?" she asked, rolling her wheelchair into the doorway.

"I have to go to Brooklyn for a few hours to handle a minor business dispute," Alessandro said, his tone gentle and reassuring. "Marco’s second-in-command, Frank, will be outside your door with ten men. No one enters this floor without your permission."

Sophia looked at him, her dark eyes filled with a mixture of concern and growing affection. "Please be careful, Alessandro. Scarfo is notorious for using dirty tactics. He has no honor."

Alessandro walked over to her wheelchair, reaching down to gently pat her shoulder. His touch sent a warm, electric shiver through her chest.

"Honor is something men use when they aren't strong enough to win, Sophia," Alessandro said quietly. "I don't need honor. I have a family to come home to."

He turned toward Emma, who was sitting under the grand piano playing with her rabbit. "Emma. I’ll be back before bedtime. What do you want me to bring you from Brooklyn?"

Emma looked up, her small face serious as she contemplated the offer. "Chocolate donut!" she announced triumphantly. "With sprinkles!"