Shot and Bleeding, She Collapsed Into the Mafia Boss’s Arms—“Give Me a Name,” He Growled

Six months later.

The Grand Ballroom of the Plaza Hotel was bathed in the warm, glittering light of dozens of crystal chandeliers. White orchids and blooming lilies covered every marble pillar, while a full sixty-piece symphony orchestra played classical waltzes from the raised balcony.

It was the annual Winter Charity Gala—the most prestigious high-society event of the year, attended by diplomats, foreign dignitaries, business titans, and the city’s most influential leaders.

Tonight, however, the gala was not just a social gathering. It was the official public debut of the Seraphina Moretti Foundation.

At the top of the grand marble staircase, overlooking the crowded ballroom, stood Vincent.

He looked devastatingly handsome in a custom black tuxedo with a dark silk bowtie, his silver-trimmed hair styled neatly, his tall, imposing presence commanding absolute respect from every person in the room below. Standing beside him was Marcus, dressed in a sleek suit, keeping a watchful eye over the elite crowd.

"The Mayor and the Governor have both arrived, Boss," Marcus reported quietly. "The media outlets outside have been restricted per your orders. Only approved press photographers are allowed on the red carpet."

"Good," Vincent replied softly, sipping champagne from a crystal flute. "Tonight belongs to her."

A sudden hush fell over the grand ballroom below as the master of ceremonies stepped up to the center microphone.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," the announcer’s voice echoed smoothly across the hall. "Presenting your host for the evening... Director of the Moretti Global Cultural Trust... Miss Seraphina Moretti."

Every head turned toward the top of the grand staircase.

Seraphina stepped out into the golden light, and a collective gasp of admiration rippled through the elite crowd.

She looked breathtaking. She wore an exquisite, custom-tailored emerald green velvet gown that swept gracefully across the marble floor. Her dark curls were styled in soft, romantic waves over her shoulders, exposing a brilliant diamond necklace. But what caught everyone’s eye was the ancient silver pendant resting proudly at the center of her collarbone—a symbol of a bloodline restored, a legacy reclaimed, and a woman who had conquered the dark.

Vincent offered his arm to her with a proud, warm smile.

Seraphina took his arm, her hazel eyes sparkling with absolute confidence as they began their slow, majestic descent down the grand marble staircase together.

"You look stunning, sister," Vincent murmured softly as they walked.

"I couldn't have done any of this without you, Vincent," she replied softly, squeezing his arm tight. "Three years ago, I didn't even know if I had a name. Tonight, I am giving millions of dollars to protect children who have no voice."

"Our father is watching you tonight," Vincent said, his voice thick with genuine pride. "And he is prouder than I am."

When they reached the floor, the Mayor of the city immediately stepped forward with a broad smile, holding out his hand. "Don Moretti, Miss Moretti! An absolute honor! The city is profoundly grateful for your foundation’s fifty-million-dollar grant to our pediatric trauma centers!"

"The credit belongs entirely to my sister, Mr. Mayor," Vincent said smoothly, stepping back slightly to let Seraphina take center stage.

For the next two hours, Seraphina commanded the ballroom with effortless elegance, intelligence, and grace. She spoke with foreign ambassadors, charmed socialites, and delivered a moving, powerful speech on the stage that brought the entire room of five hundred distinguished guests to a standing ovation.

As the midnight hour approached, Vincent stepped out onto the grand balcony overlooking the illuminated city skyline, holding two glasses of vintage red wine.

Footsteps clicked softly behind him on the stone tiles.

Seraphina stepped out into the cool night air, pulling her fur shawl tight around her shoulders, joining him at the stone railing.

"Tired?" Vincent asked gently, handing her a glass.

"A little," she admitted with a soft laugh, taking a sip of the rich wine. "Standing in high heels for four hours talking to politicians is almost as exhausting as running through the rain in the warehouse district."

Vincent chuckled softly, looking out at the city lights glittering beneath the clear, starry sky.

"Look at this city, Seraphina," Vincent said, gesturing with his glass toward the skyline. "Three decades ago, our enemies tried to tear our family apart. They thought they could erase you. But tonight, your name is written across every building in this city."

Seraphina turned to face him, looking into the eyes of the man who had pulled her out of the rain, protected her from monsters, and given her back her name, her dignity, and her life.

"They didn't just fail to erase me, Vincent," Seraphina said, her voice filled with an overwhelming, eternal devotion. "They brought me home to my brother."

Vincent raised his glass toward hers.