My little girl unmasked the billionaire’s pregnancy hoax, and the whole ballroom was left breathless.

The third floor of the Moretti mansion was a fortress within a fortress. I had worked here for three years and had only been allowed up here twice, both times to deep-clean the Persian rugs under the strict supervision of armed guards.

Now, I sat on a sprawling, butter-soft leather sofa in Alessandro’s private study, clutching Emma to my chest. The walls were lined with first-edition books, and a massive mahogany desk dominated the center of the room. Rain lashed against the bulletproof glass of the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Emma’s fever was spiking again. Her forehead was hot against my neck, and her breathing was shallow.

"Mama, I want to go home," she whimpered, her tiny fists curling into my cheap uniform blouse.

"I know, baby. I know. Just a little longer," I whispered, rocking her gently.

My mind was racing. I had just humiliated the Cole family, one of the most ruthless political dynasties in the state. Worse, I had done it in front of the entire New York underworld. Maids who saw too much ended up floating in the East River. Maids who ruined billion-dollar mob alliances didn't even get a grave.

I had to run. I had a few hundred dollars saved in a jar under my sink at my tiny Queens apartment. It wasn't enough, but I could buy bus tickets. We could go to Ohio. Or Canada. Anywhere but here.

I stood up, adjusting Emma in my arms, and walked toward the heavy oak door. I reached for the brass handle.

The door clicked open before I could touch it.

Alessandro Moretti stepped into the room, bringing the scent of rain, smoke, and pure adrenaline with him. He had discarded his suit jacket and tie, leaving his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the edge of a dark tattoo on his collarbone.

He looked exhausted, dangerous, and incredibly angry.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, shutting the door behind him. The lock clicked with a terrifying finality.

"Home," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. I lifted my chin, refusing to let him see how badly I was trembling. "My daughter is sick. I’m taking her home. I’ll pack my things. You won’t ever see us again, I swear."

Alessandro walked slowly toward his desk, pouring himself a measure of amber liquid from a crystal decanter. He took a sip, his dark eyes never leaving my face.

"If you walk out of these gates tonight, Elena, you will be dead before sunrise," he stated matter-of-factly.

My breath hitched. "Are you threatening me?"

"I am stating a fact," he replied, setting the glass down. He leaned against the edge of his desk, crossing his arms over his chest. "Vanessa Cole is a vindictive, unstable woman, and her father just lost half a billion dollars in leverage because your three-year-old has better observational skills than my entire security detail. The Coles will want blood. Your blood. They will burn your miserable little apartment to the ground with you inside it."

A cold sweat broke out across my back. I clutched Emma tighter. "Then what am I supposed to do? We have nothing to do with your world!"

"You are in my world now," Alessandro said, his voice dropping low, a commanding hum that sent shivers down my spine. "You saved me from marrying a parasite. You saved me from claiming a child that wasn't mine. I protect what belongs to me. And I protect those who do me a service."

"I don't belong to you."

A slow, predatory smirk touched the corner of his lips. "We can debate semantics later. Right now, your daughter is burning up."

Before I could react, he crossed the room in three long strides. I flinched, bracing for impact, but his large, calloused hand simply reached out and pressed gently against Emma’s flushed forehead. His touch was shockingly tender.

"She’s burning up," he murmured, his brow furrowing. He pulled a sleek black phone from his pocket. "Send Dr. Rossi to my study immediately. Have him bring pediatric supplies."

"You don't have to do that," I protested. "I can just take her to a clinic—"

"Elena," Alessandro interrupted, his dark eyes locking onto mine, paralyzing me with their intensity. "From this moment on, you do not worry about clinics, or rent, or bus tickets, or the Cole family. You and your daughter are staying in the East Wing. You are under my protection."

"For how long?" I whispered, terrified of the answer.