"THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME SERVE HIS ENGAGEMENT DINNER WITH MY HAIR COVERING ONE EYE—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “SHE HIT HER FACE ON THE PANTRY DOOR,” BEFORE HE HAD EVEN ASKED WHAT HAPPENED.

We returned to Chicago on the 4:00 P.M. flight.

The storm over the Midwest had intensified, turning into a blinding snowstorm that painted the tarmac white. Inside the jet cabin, the atmosphere was no longer tense—it was lethal.

The three leather-bound ledgers sat on the mahogany table between Luca and me.

Luca had spent the last hour flipping through the pages, his dark eyes scanning the handwritten entries from his grandfather and father. The names of senators, judges, shipping magnates, and bank directors filled the parchment in neat blue ink.

"They are intact," Luca said quietly, closing the final volume with a soft thud. "Not a single page missing."

"What do we do now?" I asked, leaning forward over my cup of coffee. "Vanessa still thinks you're in the dark. She thinks Mercer is delivering the photos today."

Luca looked out the oval window at the swirling snow outside. "When we land, Daniel will arrest Mercer quietly at his office. Mercer will be given a choice: face twenty years in prison for extortion and corporate espionage, or make one phone call to Vanessa."

"What will he tell her?"

"He will tell her that Elena took the bait," Luca said, a cold, predatory smile spreading across his face. "He will tell her that Elena was so enraged by the photographs that she is bringing the ledgers to the Moretti estate tonight at nine o'clock to confront me in front of the entire Bellini family."

I caught my breath. "You're bringing her family into this?"

"The Bellini family is attending our formal rehearsal dinner at the estate tonight," Luca explained. "Her father, Don Vito Bellini, and her two brothers will be there. Vanessa believes she will be able to intercept Elena in the foyer, seize the ledgers, and execute her plan before her father's eyes."

"And instead?"

"Instead, she will walk directly into a trap of her own making," Luca said. He turned to me, his dark gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that made my pulse jump. "But to make this work, Olivia, I need you to play a specific role tonight."

"Whatever you need, Luca."

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur. "Tonight, you wear a dress, not an apron. You sit at my right hand during the dinner."

I blinked in astonishment. "What? Luca, I'm your servant. Your staff... her father... they'll be scandalized!"

"Let them be," Luca said fiercely. "Vanessa hit you because she viewed you as disposable. She thought a maid's pain meant nothing. Tonight, I am showing the Bellini family—and everyone in my house—that anyone who touches you answers directly to me."

My chest swelled with a feeling so intense it felt like fire. "Luca... I don't know how to act like a high-society guest."

"You don't need to act," he murmured, his thumb gently reaching out to trace the jawline below my bruise. "You just need to be yourself. Cold, honest, and brave. I will handle the rest."

At 7:00 P.M., we arrived back at the Chicago estate.

The mansion was illuminated with thousands of warm golden lights against the falling snow. Inside, the staff was frantically preparing the main dining hall for twenty-four high-profile guests.

Mrs. Carter met us in the grand foyer, holding a long black garment bag.

"Mr. Moretti," she said, her eyes twinkling as she looked at me. "The dress you ordered from Saks Fifth Avenue arrived an hour ago. It has been tailored to Miss Olivia's measurements."

I looked at Luca in disbelief. "You ordered a dress while we were in Boston?"

"I told you, Olivia," Luca smirked gently, taking my coat. "I calculate every outcome."

Mrs. Carter led me upstairs to a private guest suite on the third floor—far away from Vanessa's room. On the bed lay a floor-length dress made of deep emerald-green velvet, with a high collar designed to cover my shoulders and long sleeves that flowed elegantly to my wrists. Beside it sat a pair of black silk heels and a silver box containing emerald drop earrings.

"Mr. Moretti said green would suit your dark hair," Mrs. Carter whispered warmly as she helped me zip up the back. "And child... I have worked for the Moretti family for thirty years. I have never seen him look at a woman the way he looked at you when you walked off that plane tonight."

I looked at myself in the full-length mirror.

The maid in the stained apron was gone. Standing in her place was a woman who looked elegant, regal, and dangerous. The dark purple bruise on my left cheek was still visible, but against the rich emerald velvet, it no longer looked like a sign of weakness.

It looked like a battle scar.

A knock sounded at the door.

I opened it. Luca stood in the hallway wearing a pristine black tuxedo, his hair slicked back, his dark eyes burning as he looked at me.