"Hours before I was supposed to propose to another woman, four six-year-old boys walked into a restaurant bathroom looking so much like me that even I, the man who ran one of Boston’s most powerful crime families, couldn’t move. Then I heard their mother’s voice outside the door—the woman I had loved six years earlier—and suddenly the engagement ring in my pocket meant nothing."

The low, polite voice belonged to Mateo, Dominic’s primary security chief, who had materialized discreetly near the entrance. Mateo’s eyes shifted from Clara to the children, then back to Dominic with a silent, professional warning.

“Miss Barrett’s car just pulled up, sir. She’s coming inside. She wanted to know if you ran into traffic on your way to the conservatory.”

Dominic’s jaw clenched so hard his back teeth ached.

Sloane Barrett was due through those doors in less than sixty seconds. If she walked in here—if she saw him standing face-to-face with the woman he had never stopped loving, surrounded by four little boys who were undeniable carbon copies of his own DNA—the fragile alliance between the Moretti and Barrett families would shatter instantly. The media would tear them apart. His uncle would declare war.

And Clara and the boys... God help them, his family’s enemies would view four secret heirs as the ultimate vulnerability, a weapon to be used against him.

Clara saw the panic flicker across Dominic’s face, and her expression hardened into pure ice.

“See?” she whispered bitterly, stepping back and pulling her children closer to her side. “That’s your life, isn’t it? The cars, the bodyguards, the powerful fiancée, the perfect public image. You belong to Boston, Dominic. You always did. So go back to your glass conservatory and play your part. Just stay the hell away from my family.”

“Clara, wait—!” Dominic reached out again, but she pulled away violently.

“Mommy, who is that man?” little Noah asked, looking up at Clara with Dominic’s exact frown. “Why is he making you sad?”

“Nobody, baby,” Clara choked out, her voice breaking. She turned to the boys, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Let’s go through the side exit. Now.”

“Clara, stop!” Dominic’s voice carried a dangerous, authoritative edge that made even Mateo step back instinctively. He looked at the woman he loved, then down at the four boys who shared his blood.

He reached into his jacket pocket, his fingers wrapping around the velvet ring box containing the multi-million-dollar diamond meant for Sloane Barrett. Without a second thought, Dominic pulled the box out, dropped it carelessly onto a nearby velvet-covered display table, and stepped forward.

“I’m not letting you walk away a second time,” Dominic said, his voice dropping into a fierce, absolute vow. “I don't give a damn about the conservatory. I don't give a damn about the Barretts.”

Before Clara could reply, the front doors of the restaurant chimed softly.

“Dominic?”

Sloane Barrett’s cool, refined voice echoed through the foyer. She stepped inside, elegant in a silver silk evening gown, her eyes scanning the lobby with a polite, expectant smile.

“There you are, darling. The driver said you stopped here unexpectedly. Is everything alright? The family is waiting at the river.”

The lobby went dead silent.

Sloane stopped walking as she noticed the group standing near the hallway: Dominic, looking tense and wild-eyed; a stunning, dark-haired woman clutching the arm of a dining chair; and four little boys in matching navy sweaters staring right at her.