"The woman engaged to Chicago’s most feared crime boss kicked me in the ribs because I refused to let a dying dog be thrown into an alley. She laughed while forty powerful people watched me curl around him on the floor, certain no one in that room would dare challenge her. What she didn’t know was that the dog belonged to the one man she should never have crossed—and he was already walking through the door.

With the Vane family and the Morettis behind bars, a profound sense of peace settled over the Croft empire.

The port leases were secured permanently under Julian’s name, and the city’s underground fell completely into line under his absolute authority. But inside the walls of the lakefront estate, everything was changing.

I was no longer a guest recovering from injury. I had become an integral part of the home.

Buster was fully recovered now, his coat shiny, his energy returned. Every morning, he and I would walk through the estate’s expansive gardens, followed at a discreet distance by guards who treated me with deep, genuine respect.

Yet, as my healing completed, an aching anxiety began to grow in my chest.

What was my place here now?

One evening, I sat in the library, looking through community college courses on my laptop. I needed to plan my future. I couldn't stay in Julian’s mansion forever living off his generosity.

The library door opened, and Julian walked in, carrying two glasses of scotch. He set one down near me and leaned against the mahogany desk, watching me.

“What are you researching?” he asked softly.

“I’m looking at nursing programs,” I said, offering a faint smile. “My ribs are completely healed, Julian. You’ve done more for me than anyone ever has. But I need to start rebuilding my life. I need to find an apartment.”

Julian’s hand froze mid-air as he reached for his glass. The warmth in his eyes instantly vanished, replaced by a dark, intense storm.

“An apartment?” he repeated, his voice dangerously low.

“Yes,” I stammered, surprised by his sudden mood shift. “I can’t stay here forever, Julian. I’m just... I was just a waitress you protected.”

Julian set his glass down with a heavy thud. He walked around the desk until he was standing directly over my chair. He reached down, gripping the arms of my chair, trapping me gently between his frame.

“Just a waitress?” he whispered, his face inches from mine. “You think after everything we’ve been through, after you brought light back into this dead house, after Buster chose you, that you’re just a waitress to me?”

My heart hammered wildly against my chest. “Julian... I don't know what I am to you.”

“You are everything to me, Sadie,” he confessed, his voice thick with raw emotion. “The night I walked into The Harrington, I was a dead man walking, consumed only by vengeance. Then I saw you—bleeding, bruised, shielding my brother's dog with your own body. You saved Buster, but you saved me too.”

He reached out, his long fingers tangling softly in my hair, pulling me closer until our foreheads touched.