Chapter 8 – THE MORNING AFTER THE NIGHTMARE

The next morning, the mansion was quiet.

The broken glass had been swept away. The security perimeter was doubled.

Dante walked into the massive, sunlit kitchen.

He was wearing a simple grey sweater and jeans, looking more like a regular father than a mafia boss.

Harper was standing at the stove, flipping pancakes. She was wearing one of Dante’s oversized dress shirts over her leggings, her hair tied up in a messy bun.

She looked beautiful.

“Good morning,” Dante said, leaning against the marble counter.

Harper jumped slightly, turning around with a spatula in her hand.

“Oh! Good morning, Mr. Moretti. I was just making Sophie’s favorites. She’s still asleep.”

“Dante,” he corrected gently.

She blushed. “Dante.”

He poured himself a cup of coffee.

“How is your mother?”

“Resting comfortably at the private clinic you arranged,” Harper smiled. “The doctors said the surgery to remove the device will be simple. Thank you.”

“She’s family now,” Dante said simply.

He walked around the island and stood next to her.

The proximity made the air between them suddenly crackle with an unspoken tension. The adrenaline of the night before had faded, leaving behind a raw, intense connection.

“Harper,” Dante said quietly.

She looked up at him, her dark eyes wide.

“Yes?”

“I want you to stay. Not as a nanny. You don’t have to work another day in your life. I want you to stay here. With us.”

Harper’s breath hitched.

She looked away, focusing on the pancakes.

“Dante… I can’t.”

Dante frowned. “Why not?”

Harper reached into her pocket.

She pulled out a small, folded piece of paper and set it on the counter.

It was a ticket.

A boarding pass for a flight to Seattle. Departing tomorrow.

“My aunt lives in Seattle,” Harper said softly. “Before all this happened, I promised my mother that once she recovered from her surgery, we would leave Chicago. It’s too dangerous here. Yesterday just proved it.”

Dante stared at the ticket.

“You’re leaving?”

“I love Sophie,” Harper said, tears springing to her eyes. “And I… I care about you. More than I should. But I can’t live in a world with hitmen and bombs and rival bosses. I just want a normal life.”

Dante felt a cold emptiness settle in his chest.

He couldn’t force her to stay. He wouldn’t. She had earned her freedom.

“I understand,” Dante said softly.

He turned and walked out of the kitchen, taking the piece of his heart she had just broken with him.

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