Vincent looked at her over the edge of his heavy porcelain mug, his dark eyes steady, holding the silent gravity that made even seasoned syndicate captains hesitate before speaking in his presence.

Six months later.

Spring had arrived in Chicago, melting the dark ice off Lake Michigan and turning the grounds of the Moretti estate into a sea of green grass and blooming white lilies.

The dark iron gates of the estate were open.

The military vehicles and white-camouflaged guards were gone, replaced by standard residential security and the peaceful sound of birds singing in the oak trees.

Inside the grand master suite on the second floor, sunlight poured through the open balcony doors, carrying the sweet scent of fresh spring air.

Emma stood in front of a full-length mirror, wearing a soft cream maternity dress that accentuated her beautifully rounded, seven-month pregnant belly. Her dark hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, her skin glowing with radiant health.

Behind her, the door opened softly.

Vincent walked into the room.

He wore a crisp white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, no tie, no coat, and no gloves. His dark hair was neatly trimmed, the scars on his neck visible, but no longer carrying the dark, menacing weight they once held.

He walked up behind her, sliding his arms gently around her bump, resting his chin on her shoulder as they looked at their reflection in the mirror.

"Dr. Chen called," Vincent murmured softly, kissing the side of her neck. "The final nursery furniture from Italy has arrived at the freight terminal. It will be installed tomorrow."

Emma smiled, covering his hands with her own. "You bought three different cribs, Vincent. The nursery looks like a luxury furniture showroom."

"Our son deserves choices," Vincent said with a straight face, though the warm glint in his eyes betrayed his dry humor.

Emma turned around in his arms, resting her hands against his broad chest. "Our son is going to be spoiled rotten by his father."

"He will be protected," Vincent corrected gently, his dark eyes locking onto hers with deep, eternal devotion. "He will grow up in a world where he doesn't have to fight the wars I fought."

Over the past six months, Vincent had executed a complete restructuring of the Moretti empire. The illegal logistics operations had been fully liquidated or transitioned into legitimate maritime shipping, international trade, and commercial real estate. The syndicate had been dissolved, replaced by a private corporate board where Vincent held absolute, legitimate control.

"How is your mother doing?" Vincent asked softly.

"She’s wonderful," Emma smiled, her heart warming. "Dr. Chen said her memory retention has improved since she moved into the garden suite downstairs. She asked about you this morning."

"Did she?" Vincent raised an eyebrow.

"She wants to know if you're going to teach the baby how to ride horses at the North Estate," Emma teased.

Vincent chuckled—a warm, rich sound that had become a daily presence in the house. "I’ve already purchased two Shetland ponies for the northern stables."