Chapter 1

"She only just woke up, and her heart is still very weak. Any strong emotion could trigger cardiac arrest."

The attending doctor had barely finished his warning when the door to my room opened.

Lucas stopped short in the doorway.

It took me a long moment to recognize the Lucas I remembered in the man before me.

His hair was cut short.

His black suit was sharply tailored, and his jaw was set tight.

"Elena..."

He finally crossed to my bed.

He fumbled with his tie as if he had no idea what to do with his hands.

"They told me you were awake. I thought it was another false alarm. Thank God."

I'd been in a coma for six whole years.

In six years, the balance of power among Sicily's families had completely changed.

Lucas hadn't just survived. He had become the most feared Don in Sicily.

I wanted to ask him how he'd spent those six years.

Then hurried footsteps came down the hall.

Chloe burst into the room.

She collapsed beside my bed.

She curled over on the cold stone floor, her head bowed low.

"Ms. Conti! You're finally awake! That day was all my fault. I shouldn't have screamed. I shouldn't have gotten you shot..."

Chloe was crying so hard she shook.

Before I could react, Lucas bent down and grabbed her arm.

He hauled her up off the floor like she weighed nothing.

"Enough."

His voice was low.

"Didn't you hear what the doctor said? Why bring up all that old stuff?"

His tone was harsh, almost vicious.

But then Chloe swayed on her feet, crying.

Without thinking, Lucas took off his suit jacket.

With practiced ease, he draped it over Chloe's shoulders.

"You only recovered from pneumonia a few days ago. Why the hell are you wearing so little?"

He sounded stern, but the gesture came naturally.

"Get out. Go take care of the discharge paperwork. And never bring that up again."

Chloe left with red eyes, clutching the jacket.

I watched her go, and my chest tightened.

I hadn't had a chance to say anything the whole time.

And he'd brushed it all off with "Never bring that up again."

That was my life.

The bullet I'd taken for him.

The six years I'd lost.

And now he'd turned it into old stuff he didn't want to talk about.

Lucas noticed my expression and immediately turned to pour me a glass of water.

For a moment, I almost believed he was still the man who had saved all his tenderness for me.

But when I raised my eyes, he'd already looked away.

He took out his phone.

He was replying to a message from Chloe about the docks.

The day I was discharged, a black armored car was waiting outside the hospital.

The door swung open.

The air inside was thick with the sweet smell of caramel.

Six years earlier, Lucas had stomped the caramel pastries Chloe brought him into the mud.

He'd said, in disgust, that the sweet smell made him want to throw up.

But now he sat in the back seat, perfectly at ease.

He didn't even frown.

Chloe settled in beside him with practiced ease.

She picked up a tablet and started rattling off shipping times, warehouse numbers, and shift schedules.

All that work used to go through me and no one else.

Now it was all in her hands.

Just as the door was about to close, Lucas froze.

Only then did he remember I was still standing outside the car.

A deeply uneasy look crossed his face.

"Chloe, move up front."

Chloe went pale and bit her lip.

She did as she was told without a word, getting out and moving to the front.

The car drove all the way up to the villa on the hillside.

It used to be our home.

Back then, we'd promised each other we'd get married once Lucas became the Don.

The car stopped.

"Get some rest. A shipment was seized at East Port. I have to handle it myself."

Lucas helped me out of the car.

He deliberately softened his voice.

Chloe pulled a gun from inside her jacket and handed it to him.

Lucas didn't even look.

He took it, flicked the safety on, and got back in the car.

As the door was closing, he gave the bodyguard an order without glancing up.

"Turn the temperature up two degrees. She was coughing again."

The wind carried his words to my ears.

I stood alone on the hillside as a chill spread through my whole body.

I opened the door to the villa. Inside, everything was clean.

But none of Lucas's everyday clothes were there.

None of the cigars he once couldn't go a day without were there either.

Not even an ashtray.

By midnight, he still hadn't come back.

A few gunshots echoed up from the bottom of the hill.

With stiff fingers, I called Lucas.

It rang for a long time before he answered.

"Where are you?"

He sounded tired and half asleep.

"At home."

"Home?"

I gripped the phone and took a deep breath.

"Lucas, which home?"

The other end of the line went dead silent.