"She was supposed to be invisible, but after taking a wall of shattered glass meant for Dante Moretti’s son, the most feared man in Chicago looked into her eyes and quietly said, “You’re coming with me.”

The estate became a strange sort of home. I spent my days reading in the vast library, playing board games with Matteo—who had attached himself to me like a small shadow—and sharing late-night conversations with Dante over glasses of vintage wine.

I learned things about Dante Moretti that the newspapers never printed. I learned that his wife had passed away during childbirth, leaving him to raise Matteo alone in a world of wolves. I learned that he hated the violence his family business required, but carried it like a heavy cloak to keep his people safe.

And slowly, terrifyingly, I began to fall for him.

He was protective without being smothering, sharp yet unexpectedly gentle with those he loved. The dark, dangerous mob boss who made Chicago tremble would sit on the rug for hours helping his son build lego castles, glancing up at me with eyes that made my blood run hot.

Then came the night of the Venetian Charity Gala at the Drake Hotel—a high-society event where Chicago's elite, both legitimate and underground, gathered under the guise of philanthropy.

"You don't have to go, Clara," Dante had told me in his study earlier that evening, adjusting his black silk bowtie. "It will be crowded, and the Falcones will be there under a temporary truce."

"I want to go," I said, stepping into the study wearing a floor-length emerald silk dress Dante had bought for me. The dress was modest, designed specifically to cover the faint red scars on my back, but it clung perfectly to my curves.

Dante turned to look at me, and for a full five seconds, the most powerful man in Chicago forgot how to speak.

"You look..." Dante swallowed hard, walking over to me, his dark eyes ablaze. "You are breathtaking, Clara."

"I want to stand beside you, Dante," I said softly, reaching out to smooth his lapels. "I'm done hiding."

A faint, proud smile touched his lips. He slipped a velvet box from his pocket and opened it, revealing a stunning teardrop diamond necklace that caught the ambient light. He stepped behind me, gently moving my hair aside, his fingers brushing the scars on my back as he fastened the clasp.

"If anyone looks at you the wrong way tonight," Dante whispered into my ear, "tell me, and I'll remove them from the room."

At the gala, the ballroom was a sea of glittering dresses, classical music, and fake smiles. Dante held my hand firmly in his, introducing me to senators, judges, and businessmen as his personal guest. The whispers followed us everywhere—Who is she? Is that the girl who saved his son? Is she the new Moretti queen?

Everything seemed fine until eleven o'clock, when Dante was called into a private side room by a senior city councilman to sign a real estate agreement.

"Stay with Lorenzo," Dante instructed me, kissing my cheek before stepping away. "I'll be five minutes."

I stood near the champagne fountain with Lorenzo standing like a towering sentinel three feet behind me.

"Excuse me, miss," a waiter said, stepping up to me with a tray of drinks. "Mr. Moretti requested a glass of white wine for you from the private cellar."

I reached out, taking the crystal flute. "Thank you—"

Before I could take a sip, Lorenzo suddenly lunged forward, slamming his hand against the glass, shattering it against the marble floor!

"Lorenzo!" I gasped in shock.

"Don't drink that, Miss Linwood!" Lorenzo bellowed, drawing his firearm as three men in dark suits materialized from the shadows of the hallway!

The ballroom erupted in screams! Patrons scattered in all directions as gunshots shattered the glass chandeliers above!

It was a setup. The councilman's meeting was a distraction meant to pull Dante away, leaving me exposed.

Two mercenaries tackled Lorenzo to the ground, overpowering him through sheer numbers. A cold, damp cloth was suddenly slammed over my nose and mouth from behind!

I fought desperately, kicking and clawing at the arm wrapped around my neck, but the chemical scent was overwhelming. Darkness crept into the edges of my vision.