REMOVE THAT EMPTY CHAIR! I'M NOT HAVING YOUR MOTHER SET A PLACE FOR A DEAD PERSON AT MY ENGAGEMENT DINNER!” THE MAFIA BOSS'S FIANCÉE HUMILIATED HIS 80-YEAR-OLD MOTHER IN FRONT OF 36 GUESTS—BUT WHEN THE OLD WOMAN WHISPERED, “I PROMISED HIM I'D KEEP HIS SEAT,” VINCENT ROMANO SLOWLY PUT DOWN HIS GLASS. AND WHAT HIS MOTHER REVEALED NEXT MADE HIM STARE AT A MAN SITTING ACROSS THE TABLE -

Chapter 9 – THE TICKET TO TOMORROW

The morning sun filtered through the tall arched windows of the Romano mansion, casting golden beams across the polished hardwood floors.

For the first time since I’d started working here, the house didn’t feel heavy. It felt… quiet. Peaceful.

I was in the kitchen, packing my duffel bag. Vincent had generously given me a month of paid leave to go back to Ohio and see my mother. He had even insisted on paying for my first-class flight.

“Emily?”

I turned to see little Leo standing in the doorway, clutching his stuffed bear. He looked up at me with wide, sad eyes.

“Are you leaving forever?” he asked.

My heart melted. I knelt down to his level. “No, sweetie. I’m just going to visit my mom. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Leo held out his small hand. In his palm was a shiny, gold foil ticket.

“It’s for the aquarium,” he said shyly. “Uncle Nico bought them for us. He said you have to come with us when you get back.”

I smiled, taking the ticket. “Uncle Nico, huh?”

Thomas walked into the kitchen, wearing a casual sweater instead of a stiff suit. He actually looked relaxed. “The kid drives a hard bargain. He wouldn’t let me sleep until I promised we’d all go.”

I stood up, holding the ticket tightly. “Thank you, Thomas.”

“Nico,” he corrected gently. “I think I’m ready to be Nico again.”

I nodded. “Thank you, Nico.”

As I zipped up my bag, Vincent entered the kitchen holding a sleek leather briefcase.

“The car is waiting outside to take you to the airport, Emily,” Vincent said. “But before you go, there’s one more thing.”

He placed the briefcase on the island counter and popped the latches.

Inside were stacks of neat, bound documents.

“What is this?” I asked.

“Arthur and Bianca’s holdings,” Vincent said plainly. “They transferred a significant amount of assets before they were exiled. I had my legal team restructure it.”

Vincent pulled out a manila folder and handed it to me.

I opened it and gasped.

It was the deed to a small, beautiful bakery in downtown Columbus, Ohio. My hometown.

“Vincent, I can’t accept this,” I stammered. “This is too much.”

“You walked into a warehouse full of armed men to save my son,” Vincent said, his voice completely serious. “You didn’t hesitate. You risked your life for my family. This isn’t a gift, Emily. It’s a debt paid.”

Nico smiled. “He’s right. Take it. Your mother makes a great apple pie, doesn’t she? Maybe she can give my mom some competition.”

I looked at the deed, tears welling in my eyes. I had spent years scrubbing floors and serving rich people, dreaming of opening my own shop.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

I hugged Vincent, then Nico, and finally picked up little Leo for a tight squeeze.

As I walked out to the waiting black SUV, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders.

But just as I reached for the door handle, my phone buzzed.

It was a text from Bianca.

You think you won, Emily? Ask Nico what he did with your father.