The last nanny ran out of a mafia boss's mansion screaming, barefoot, without her purse, and too terrified to look back. That should have been enough to make me turn around.

The morning sun broke through the storm clouds, casting golden light across the manicured lawns and towering iron gates of the Rinaldi estate.

Serena woke up early in her third-floor suite. The room was grand yet tasteful, featuring a king-sized bed, a private balcony overlooking the rose gardens, and an adjacent bedroom already fully furnished for a young girl. A brand-new wardrobe filled with high-end casual clothes in her size had been placed in the closet overnight—compliments of Mr. Rinaldi's staff.

She dressed quickly in a dark cashmere sweater and tailored jeans, tying her dark hair back into a neat ponytail before heading downstairs.

When she reached the ground floor, she didn't find the chaotic wasteland of the previous evening. Instead, the kitchen was spotless. The broken glass had been cleared, the juice-stained marble polished to a mirror shine.

At the center island sat the four boys. They were dressed in matching school uniforms—navy blazers, crisp white shirts, and plaid ties—sitting quietly while the older housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, attempted to butter slices of toast.

Marco looked up as Serena entered. His posture stiffened slightly, but there was no immediate hostility in his eyes.

"Good morning," Serena said, stepping into the room with a warm smile.

"Good morning," Tommy whispered softly, offering her a tiny wave.

"Where is Mr. Rinaldi?" Serena asked Mrs. Gable, noticing the empty chair at the head of the table.

Mrs. Gable gave a subtle, nervous twitch of her shoulders. "The master was out all night on business. He returned an hour ago and is currently in his lower office."

Serena nodded, understanding the unspoken context. Business meant the dark, violent world Victor inhabited.

She walked over to the breakfast setup. "Toast? That's all we're having before a long day of school?"

Nico groaned loudly. "Mrs. Gable doesn't let us make anything fun. She says we'll burn the house down."

"Well, Mrs. Gable has work to do, so today I'm in charge of breakfast," Serena announced, taking a bowl of fresh berries, yogurt, and honey from the fridge. She quickly set up a waffle iron she found in the pantry. "Who wants Belgian waffles with chocolate chips?"

Leo raised both hands in the air. "ME! I want chocolate!"

Within fifteen minutes, the kitchen was filled with the mouth-watering scent of crisping waffles and melted dark chocolate. The boys ate with enthusiasm, laughing as Leo got whipped cream on his nose. For a few blissful minutes, they were just normal children enjoying a Tuesday morning before school.

Suddenly, the heavy door leading from the basement garage opened.

Victor walked in.

He had removed his suit jacket, wearing only a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong, corded forearms covered in faint scars. His tie was loosened, his dark hair slightly rumpled, and his jaw covered in dark stubble. He looked exhausted, but his posture remained rigid.

The boys fell quiet instantly, their laughter fading into cautious stillness.

Victor paused, looking at his sons sitting around the island eating waffles. His eyes softened for a fraction of a second before he turned his gaze to Serena.

"The driver is waiting outside," Victor said, his voice husky with fatigue. "Marco, Nico, get your backpacks. Tommy, Leo, put your shoes on."

The boys scrambled to obey, grabbing their leather school satchels from the hallway bench.

As the boys headed out the door flanked by two burly men in suits, Marco lingered near the entryway. He looked back at Serena, hesitated for a moment, and then spoke in a low voice.

"Are you... are you going to be here when we get back from school?"

Serena’s heart melted. She walked over, kneeling down to eye level with the twelve-year-old. "I’ll be right here, Marco. And we're making homemade pizza for dinner."

Marco didn't smile, but he gave a single, firm nod. "Okay. Good." He turned and walked out to the armored SUV waiting in the courtyard.

Once the front doors clicked shut, the silence in the grand hallway became deafening.

Serena stood up, turning to face Victor, who was leaning heavily against the doorway of the kitchen, watching her.

"You look like you haven't slept in thirty hours," Serena noted gently.

"Twenty-eight," Victor corrected, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "The Santoro family needed to be reminded of their boundaries."

"Is it over?"

"For now," Victor said, walking toward the coffee machine. He poured himself a mug of black coffee, drinking it straight. "My life is a constant cycle of threats, Serena. I tell you this so you understand what you're stepping into. Yesterday was a warning. Today might be quiet. Tomorrow, we could be on lockdown."

"I'm not afraid of your world, Victor," Serena said, stepping closer to him. "I'm afraid of failing those boys. They don't need another drill sergeant. They need a family."

Victor looked down at her, his dark eyes searching her face with an intensity that made her breath catch. "You called them a family. You've been here less than twenty-four hours."

"Family isn't just about blood," Serena said softly, her thoughts drifting to her own daughter. "It’s about who shows up when everything else falls apart."

Victor was silent for a long moment. He raised his hand, his long fingers hovering near her cheek as if tempted to touch her soft skin, before he pulled back, setting his coffee mug on the counter.

"Mateo, my attorney, will be here at two o'clock," Victor said, his tone returning to business. "He will review your custody file and prepare our strategy for the hearing next week."