Three-year-old Mia Rossi stood in the middle of the white marble floor in red shoes and a pink cardigan buttoned wrong at the throat, one hand on her hip and a battered stuffed rabbit tucked beneath her other arm.

One month later.

The estate had been completely restored to its majestic glory. The broken glass was replaced, the marble floors polished to a mirror shine, and the dark cloud of war that had hung over the house for years was entirely gone.

In the grand study, Elena sat at the massive walnut desk, looking over a thick blue folder.

Inside the folder were legal documents: a complete release of all debt incurred by her late husband, a title deed to a luxurious house in Greenwich, Connecticut, and a trust fund account opened under Mia Rossi’s name containing five million dollars.

Aleandro walked into the study, wearing a sharp grey suit, carrying a quiet, solemn expression on his face. He sat down in the chair across from her.

"What is this, Aleandro?" Elena asked softly, holding up the documents.

Aleandro crossed his hands in his lap, looking at her with a heavy, deeply respectful gaze.

"When we began this fake engagement," Aleandro explained quietly, "I promised to protect you from Carmine's debts. Now, Carmine is gone. The syndicate war is over. Your name is completely clear, and you have enough wealth to live comfortably anywhere in the world for the rest of your life."

Elena felt a cold lump form in her throat. "Are you... are you giving me my freedom?"

"I am giving you a choice, Elena," Aleandro said, his voice trembling slightly—a rare crack in his iron composure. "You came here as a servant because you had no other options. I will not keep you here under the pretense of a fake contract. If you want to take Mia and start a quiet, normal life away from the mafia world... those documents give you everything you need."

He stood up, walking toward the window, looking out over the gardens.

"You are free to go," he whispered, his back turned to her.

Elena looked down at the documents. Five million dollars. A beautiful house in Connecticut. Absolute financial freedom. Everything she had prayed for during the dark, desperate nights after her husband died.

She slowly stood up from the desk.

She walked across the room, her soft footsteps silent against the rug, until she stood right behind Aleandro.

She reached out, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind, pressing her cheek firmly against his broad, muscular back.

Aleandro froze.

"Elena..." he rasped.

"You idiot," Elena whispered, a tear of pure happiness falling from her eye onto his jacket. "You think I want a house in Connecticut?"

Aleandro turned around slowly inside her embrace, looking down at her with wide, astonished eyes. "Elena?"

"I don't want a normal life away from you," Elena said fiercely, looking directly into his soul. "I don't care about the money. I don't care about the Moretti name. I love you, Aleandro. I loved you when you stood up to Carmine for us. I loved you when you bled for me. I love the man who sits on the floor to play tea party with my daughter."

Aleandro stared at her, a look of profound, overwhelming joy breaking across his hard features.

He didn't say a word.

He slowly sank down onto one knee—the exact same spot where he had knelt before little Mia two months ago.

He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket. But instead of the corporate seven-carat ring he had used for the fake engagement, he opened it to reveal a custom-made ring: a breathtaking, fiery red ruby surrounded by a band of warm yellow gold, engraved with small olive leaves.

"The ruby matches your daughter's shoes," Aleandro whispered, his voice thick with raw emotion. "And the gold represents a real home. Elena Rossi... will you marry me? Not for protection. Not for a contract. But because you love me as deeply as I love you?"

Before Elena could answer, the door to the study swung open.

Mia ran into the room, wearing her red shoes and pink cardigan, holding Mr. Bunny. She stopped beside Aleandro, looking at the ring in the box with huge, shining eyes.

"Is that for Mommy?" Mia asked loudly.

Aleandro looked down at the toddler, smiling warmly. "It is, Mia. But only if you give me permission to be your daddy."

Mia crossed her arms, tilting her head in serious concentration for three seconds. Then, she beamed a huge, radiant smile, wrapping her tiny arms around Aleandro's neck.

"Yes!" Mia giggled. "You can be my daddy! But you still have to apologize when you drop the coffee!"