My husband was supposed to be dead or so I thought. 

Today, I walked into a hotel and found him putting an engagement ring on another woman's finger. Roman De Luca was alive and apparently, he had never planned on coming back to me.

“The VIP guest has arrived," my manager’s voice buzzed inside my earpiece. "Everyone looks sharp. He’s early." 

This job at the exclusive hotel keeps the lights on and mostly a roof over our heads. I came here for a fresh start, to build something and finally become someone.

But that plan became shattered the moment the huge glass doors of the hotel lobby swung open. 

A rush of cold air blew on the smooth floor, cutting right through my thin uniform jacket. 

He strode across the lobby, his broad shoulders filling out a custom made suit. His dark hair was pushed back, exposing a clean jawline and eyes like a hawk. He looked different from the man I married years ago. But the man walking toward me carried only the dark, overwhelming aura of a killer. 

I quickly dropped my head, letting my long hair fall forward to hide my face. I grabbed a stack of guest folders and pretended to organize them. My chest heaving as I tried to blend into the background. 

"Mr. De Luca!" a reporter shouted, pushing a microphone past the line of guards. "Is it true? Are you announcing your official engagement to the Moretti family at the gala tonight?" 

“Mr. De Luca, why have you suddenly decided to make an appearance on television after staying out of the public eye for so long?”

Roman stopped. He turned slowly toward the flashing cameras, a cold, ruthless smile appeared on his lips. "The rumors are true. Tonight, the De Luca and Moretti families will be united."  He continued, “I didn't come here to be seen. I came here to make sure everyone knows I'm still in control.”  The reporter could feel a heavy pressure on him.

I felt my stomach churn with his words. He was publicly marrying someone else, completely erasing the secret vows we made to each other in that small chapel. I swallowed the bitter lump in my throat and stepped backward, trying to slip through the door behind the desk. I had found a way to escape before he looked my way. 

My heel caught the edge of a metal trash bin and it tipped over, clattering loudly on the floor.

The small noise echoed out in the lobby and I froze. 

Roman’s head whipped around instantly. His icy gaze moved over the tables, passed the staff, and locked directly to my eyes. 

My mouth felt dry instantly as I noticed Roman stiffened mid-breath. His ruthless smile was completely gone now replaced by shock that made his silver eyes widen. He took a small step toward me, completely ignoring the reporters.

Fear slammed my chest, I could feel my breath suffocating. My palms were instantly sweaty. He sees me. God, he sees me. I need to hide, he can't see me. I desperately prayed for the ground to swallow me instantly.

​I dropped the guest folders onto the counter with trembling hands, turned on my heel, and practically sprinted through the service door behind the front desk. I needed to hide. I needed to disappear.

​I made it halfway down the corridor before heavy footsteps echoed behind me. A sudden, rock-hard hand clamped around my wrist, spinning me around before I could even scream.

​"What are you doing here, Mia?" Roman’s voice was a dark, dangerous rumble. His eyes raked over my face, searching desperately for answers. "Why did you come to this city?"

Three years of complete silence, and that is the first thing he asks me? No ‘are you okay,'* no I missed you,' just a harsh demand like I am a trespasser in his world. He never came looking for me then, and he certainly does not get to demand answers from me now.

​"Let me go, Roman," I hissed, pushing against his chest. It felt like trying to move solid marble. "I work here. Or I did, until you walked in." 

God, it hurts. Deep down, I just wanted an excuse for why he disappeared. I needed something to justify why I still wanted him, so I wouldn't feel so pathetic.

​"Mia, listen to me….”

​Before he could finish, every light in the hallway flickered once, twice, and died. The hotel plunged into pitch-black darkness. Emergency lights clicked on a second later, drowning the hallway in an eerie red glow.

BANG BANG BANG

Gunshots erupted in the building as screams erupted from the main building. Roman grabbed my waist and shoved me behind him, using his massive body as a shield. He drew a sleek black firearm from beneath his suit jacket with deadly speed as two of his bodyguards rounded the corner, weapons drawn.

​"Protect the perimeter!" Roman barked, firing down the hall as armed men in tactical gear burst into the corridor.

The loud crackle of gun fire was deafening. Roman held me tight against his chest with one arm, firing with a deadly precision with the other.  Glass exploded from the decorative wall mirror, leaving sharp shreds all over the red carpet. 

Through the smoke and flashing gunfire, I caught sight of one of the attackers standing near the exit. He wasn't firing at Roman's men. He was holding a phone in one hand, staring directly at me. I watched as his camera flashed once, capturing my face before he turned and melted into the shadows.

​"Roman, he took my picture!" I gasped, but as I tried to point toward the exit, a searing pain shot through my leg.

​A massive piece of fallen glass had sliced through my calf. My knees buckled instantly.

 “Mia!

Roman caught me before I hit the floor. He glanced toward the exit where the gunman had fled, his instinct screaming at him to give chase. But then he looked down at the blood soaking through my uniform.

​Without a second thought, Roman scooped me up into his arms, abandoning his men, the firefight, and his own security protocols.

​He kicked open the heavy glass doors leading to the front driveway, carrying me straight out into the cool night air.

​Dozens of reporters, cameras, and fleeing guests were packed along the driveway. The flashing lights of arriving police cars washed over us. Blinding flashbulbs began popping endlessly as the crowd caught sight of Roman De Luca, the ruthless heir emerging from the chaos with an unknown, blood-stained hotel worker cradled tenderly against his chest.

​"Mr. De Luca! Was this a hit by a rival family?!"

​"Who is the woman, Mr. De Luca?!"

​Isabella Moretti rushed out through the VIP entrance, her designer dress slightly torn, surrounded by her own security detail. Her eyes widened in pure fury as she saw Roman holding me.

The entire driveway fell dead silent. Everyone turned toward us, waiting for the denial that would save his reputation and his high-society engagement.

​Roman looked down at me for one long, silent second.

​Then, he pulled me tighter against his chest, locking his gaze with the cameras.

​"Yes."

The room went dead silent at his words.

​“Yes.”

​A collective gasp rippled through the reporters, followed instantly by a frenzy of flashing cameras and shouting voices. Isabella gasped, her delicate face draining of all color as shock and humiliation twisted her features.

,

​"Roman!" Isabella cried out, grabbing his arm to pull him away from me, her voice shrill over the noise of the crowd. "What are you doing?! Leave the staff to the paramedics and let's go! The cameras are recording everything!"

​Roman didn't even look at her. He shook her hand off his arm with a cold shoulder. "Touch her again and you lose the hand, Isabel

​My heart hammered wildly against my ribs, a chaotic rhythm of utter disbelief. His wife? He had actually said it out loud, in front of the entire world, throwing away his high-society engagement and burning his reputation in a single breath. The world spun around me as Roman tucked my head against his broad chest, shielding me from the glaring lights, and carried me straight into the back of a waiting SUV.

The heavy door slammed shut, cutting off the noise outside, but the air inside the vehicle was suffocatingly thick.

​Roman took me straight to his secure penthouse estate. He didn't say a word during the ride, his silver eyes fixed out the window, dark and dangerous. The moment we stepped inside, he dragged me into the private study and slammed the heavy oak door shut behind us, locking it with a sharp, heavy click.

​The quiet in the room was instant and suffocating, broken only by the sound of our ragged breathing.

​"Roman, let go of me….”

Before I could step away, he moved with terrifying speed. His hands gripped my waist, lifting me effortlessly and setting me down on the edge of his desk. He stepped directly between my thighs, boxing me in with his massive frame until there wasn't a breath of space left between us.

​My stomach churned. My hands instinctively pressed against his chest to push him back, but the heat radiating through his crisp dress shirt made my fingers tremble.

​"Do you have any idea what went through my head when I saw that rifle aimed at you?" Roman’s voice was barely a whisper, dark, ragged, and dangerous.

​"You ruined everything, Roman!" Tears of anger burned behind my eyes as I pushed against his chest, though my own pulse flared wildly at his proximity. "I built a life away from you! I had peace! You don't get to claim me now!" I continued, “ did u ever think of me? Did you ever plan on coming back? You fucking left me Roman! You don't get to act right now!!” I screamed at him with anger and frustration. 

​"Someone hired a hitman to track you down, Mia," he growled low in his throat, his hands sliding up to cup the back of my neck, forcing me to look into his eyes. "Publicly claiming you was the only thing stopping them from putting a bullet through your heart. No one touches a De Luca boss's wife without starting a war."

​"I don't care about your wars! All you care about is DE LUCA'S name!” 

Panic, cold and sudden, seized my throat. My three-year-old son, Leo, was still at my small apartment with his nanny, completely unprotected. I tried to wriggle off the desk, my hands frantic against his shoulders. "Let me go! I have to get home!"

​"You aren't going anywhere," Roman said flatly, his grip tightening just enough to keep me anchored. "I already sent a team of my best men to secure your apartment. You're staying here where it's safe."

​"You sent your men to my house?!" Terror spiked through my blood. My chest heaved as I shoved him with everything I had. "No! Call them off! Tell them to leave!"

I scrambled off the desk and bolted toward the study door, desperate to get to Leo before anyone found him. But Roman reached the door first, slamming his palm against the wood and blocking my escape. He trapped me against his chest, his breathing harsh against my neck as I fought helplessly against his hold.

​"Why are you acting like this?!" Roman demanded, his voice thick with frustration and concern. "It’s just an empty apartment, Mia! What could possibly be there that’s worth risking your life for?!"

​"Let me go!" I sobbed, pounding my fists against his chest, three years of fear, grief, and desperation finally overflowing. "You don't understand! Please, Roman, just let me go!"

​Before he could answer, his phone buzzed sharply in his pocket. He pulled it out, answering on speaker.

​"Boss," his lieutenant's tense voice filled the quiet room. "We reached the apartment. The front door was kicked off its hinges and the place was tossed. No sign of any shooter, but..." The lieutenant paused, sounding shaken. "We found a small black wooden chess piece sitting on the floor. A knight."

​Roman's face was drained of color. His jaw set into stone. A warning from the rival Syndicate.

​"And boss," the lieutenant added softly, "there was a nanny hiding in the building hallway. She said someone came in and searched the place... looking for a little boy."

​The air left my lungs completely. I sank back against the wall, my knees giving out as a dry sob tore from my throat.

​"Where is he?" Roman demanded, his silver eyes snapping to mine, filled with a sudden, sharp intensity. "Mia, where is the child?!"

​"He's safe," I choked out, tears streaming down my face as I clutched my head in my hands. "The nanny... she must have hidden him before they broke in..."

​Right then, my phone chimed loudly from the desk where I had left it. The screen flared to life with a text notification from the nanny, displaying a bright, clear photo of Leo sitting on my lap at the park, laughing brightly into the camera.

​Roman turned slowly. His silver eyes flicked down to the glowing screen.

​He froze.

​The storm in his eyes vanished, replaced by an eerie, terrifying stillness. He stared at the photo of the little boy with dark hair and striking eyes, then slowly looked up at me.

​He walked over to the desk, picked up the phone with trembling fingers, and stared at the screen.

​"How old is he, Mia?" Roman asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous, barely audible whisper.

​I buried my face in my hands, unable to speak, my body shaking with silent sobs.

​Roman stared at the photo, silently counting the months, the years, and the three long years since he had vanished from my life.

​The phone almost slipped from his hand as he looked back at me, his voice cracking with shock, disbelief, almost like he wanted to cry.

He looked at me and asked, “Mia… that’s my son, isn’t it?”

No," I lied, the word tearing from my raw throat before my brain could stop it. I forced myself to lower my hands, swallowing down the hysterical sob building in my chest. "He isn't yours."

​Roman staggered back a step as if I had physically struck him. "Don't lie to me, Mia," he breathed, his voice cracking with a terrifying mix of grief and rising fury. "Look at him. Look at his eyes, his hair,he’s three years old! Do the fucking math!"

​"I moved on, Roman!" I screamed, my body shaking as I stood my ground, shielding my son's identity with the only weapon I had left: a painful lie. "You vanished without a trace! Did you think I sat in a dark room waiting for a ghost?! I found someone else! He isn't a De Luca, and I will never let you drag him into your fucking blood-stained world!"

​Roman looked like he had been stabbed in the chest. He stared at me, his knuckles white as he squeezed my phone, the thought of me belonging to another man visibly tearing him apart.

​Before he could speak, the study door burst open.

​"Boss, we have a massive problem," Marco, his senior lieutenant, said, breathing heavily. "Your father saw the hotel news reports. He ran a check on Mia's apartment records and found out about the boy. Don De Luca is ordering you to bring the child to the main estate immediately.

​"No!" I gasped, terror icy and sharp piercing my heart. "He is not a piece of your mafia chess game! You tell your father to stay away from him!"

​I braced myself for Roman to order his men to fetch the child, to take his father's side. But Roman turned to Marco, his jaw set like granite.

​"Tell my father the boy isn't here," Roman growled, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Get the cars ready. We're moving to the safehouse."

​Within thirty minutes, Roman secretly moved us out of the penthouse estate and into a heavily fortified safehouse hidden beneath a residential compound on the edge of the city. He refused to let me leave his sight, placing guards at every exit while his men swept the area for the rival Syndicate that had broken into my apartment.

​While Roman coordinated security downstairs, I paced the private study, trying to stop my hands from shaking. Desperate to find a secure phone line to reach Leo's nanny, I yanked open the main desk drawer.

​A thick leather folder marked with a silver seal caught my eye.

​I flipped through the confidential bank statements and wire transfers inside. Someone high up inside the De Luca family had been systematically draining millions from the family's primary inheritance accounts for years. My breath hitched as my eyes scanned the signature on the authorization forms: Julian De Luca. Roman’s older cousin, the exact man currently standing as Roman's biggest political ally in the family.

​Suddenly, my phone chimed on the desk with a flood of news alerts.

​Isabella Moretti had struck back. She had leaked staged, private photographs of Roman and me from years ago straight to the press, publicly framing me as a ruthless mistress who had trapped the mafia heir into a fake marriage. Overnight, the entire city turned against me, painting me as a calculating gold-digger destroying an elite family.

​The study door opened, and Roman walked in. His expression darkened instantly as he saw the news playing on my screen.

​"Deny the marriage, Roman," I whispered, my voice trembling with exhaustion. "Tell the press I tricked you. Clear your name and save your reputation."

​"No," Roman said without a second of hesitation.

​He walked straight to the PR team waiting in the hallway and stepped in front of the live camera feed. "Mia is my legally wedded wife," Roman stated coldly, his eyes locking onto the lens with lethal conviction. "Any attack on her character is a direct declaration of war against me."

​Before I could even process his sudden protection, the ground beneath us violently shuddered.

​BOOM!

​A deafening explosion rocked the safehouse, blowing out the reinforced windows above. Alarms blared as heavy automatic gunfire erupted from the floor above us.

​"Breach! They found us!" Marco yelled, sprinting into the room with his weapon drawn.

​Roman didn't waste a second. He grabbed my wrist in a vice-like grip, pulling me behind him as he kicked open a hidden bookshelf panel. "Down the emergency tunnel! Move!"

​We scrambled through the damp, narrow concrete passage as gunfire and shouting echoed violently behind us. Someone had leaked our exact coordinates.

​We burst through the metal door at the end of the tunnel, spilling into the dim underground parking garage. But every escape SUV sat on flat tires, their fuel tanks leaking onto the cold concrete.

​Standing beside the main exit gate was Antonio, Roman’s most trusted personal bodyguard, the man who had protected Roman since he was a teenager.

​Antonio slowly raised a silenced pistol, pointing it directly at Roman’s chest. His hands were shaking.

​“I’m sorry, Boss,” Antonio whispered, tears swimming in his eyes. “They have my family. I had no choice.”

​Roman immediately stepped in front of me, shielding my entire body with his massive frame. "Antonio, put the gun down."

​Antonio’s finger tightened on the trigger.

​BANG!

​A loud gunshot echoed through the garage. Antonio’s eyes widened in shock. The gun slipped from his hands, and he collapsed heavily onto the floorboards.

​I gasped, covering my mouth as blood pooled on the concrete.

​Standing behind the fallen bodyguard was a tall, dark figure shrouded in gunsmoke, holding a smoking pistol.

​Roman froze, staring in absolute disbelief. "Father?"

​Don De Luca stepped forward, his dark suit pristine, his cold eyes sweeping over the dead guard before locking squarely onto me.

​“You still don’t understand why I made my son leave you three years ago,” his father said, his voice terrifyingly smooth.

​I stepped out from behind Roman, my heart pounding in my throat as I faced the head of the De Luca empire. "Leave my child out of this! He isn't a De Luca! He isn't Roman's son!"

​Don De Luca’s lips curled into a cold, ruthless smile.

​“I know,” his father said quietly, his gaze shifting to the dark shadow of the garage exit. “That child isn’t a De Luca heir.”

​He paused, the silence turning deadly.

​“He’s a Veyrith.”