“Don’t Touch Her Again” — The Waitress Attacked a Mafia Boss’s Fiancée The wine glass broke before anyone screamed.

The spring morning in Westchester was soft, warm, and filled with the sweet fragrance of blooming cherry blossoms.

A gentle breeze blew across the vast, green lawns of the Vance-Rossi estate, carrying the soothing sound of the river in the distance. The dark clouds of war, crime, and vengeance had long since cleared, leaving behind an era of unprecedented peace and prosperity for the united families.

Under Declan’s leadership and my direction, the syndicate had systematically dismantled its illegal operations, transitioning its vast wealth into legitimate shipping lines, real estate developments, and charitable foundations aimed at protecting vulnerable women across the state.

I stood on the wide stone balcony overlooking the gardens, wearing a loose, comfortable white silk dress that fluttered in the soft breeze. My dark hair was tied back in a loose braid, my skin glowing with radiant health.

My hands rested gently over my rounded, heavy pregnant belly.

Footsteps sounded behind me—soft, deliberate, and familiar.

A pair of strong, warm arms wrapped around my waist from behind. Declan pulled me back against his broad chest, his large hands resting securely over mine on my bump.

He rested his chin on my shoulder, breathing in the scent of my hair.

“How are my two favorite people doing this morning?” Declan whispered into my ear, his deep voice vibrating warmly against my back.

I smiled, leaning my head back against his shoulder as I felt a strong, sudden kick from inside my womb.

“Your daughter is currently trying to break my ribs,” I laughed softly, placing my hand over his. “She’s definitely inheriting her father’s violent streak.”

Declan let out a rich, booming laugh that warmed my entire soul. He dropped to his knees on the stone balcony, leaning forward to press a soft, lingering kiss directly against the center of my round belly.

“Hear that, little one?” Declan spoke softly to my bump, his voice dropping into a tender, gentle tone I loved more than anything in the world. “Be gentle with your mother. She’s the boss around here.”

Another strong kick answered him.

Declan chuckled, standing up and wrapping his arms around me once more, pulling me close so I could feel the thunderous, steady beating of his heart against my chest.

I looked out over the sparkling green estate, my heart overflowing with an overwhelming, profound gratitude.

Five years ago, I was running through the dark, terrified, bleeding, and alone. I had believed that love was a weakness, that power was a curse, and that my life was destined to end in a quiet, forgotten corner of the city.

Now, I stood in the sunlight, holding the hand of the man who had fought through hell to bring me home.

“What are you thinking about, my queen?” Declan asked softly, his dark eyes searching my face with endless devotion.

I turned in his arms, wrapping my hands around his neck, looking into the eyes of the man who held my soul.

“I was thinking about the night we met again,” I whispered, a brilliant, mischievous smile touching my lips. “The night I broke a wine glass and you told the whole room I was your wife.”

Declan’s dark eyes flared with that familiar, devastating warmth that always made my breath catch.

He pulled me close, pressing his lips against mine in a deep, sweet, timeless kiss that tasted of rain, victory, and an eternal future.