CHAPTER 4

Alessandra's POV

The door clicked shut, leaving me alone in the suffocating silence of the playroom.

My knees finally gave out, and I sank back onto the soft carpet. I pressed a hand against my chest, trying to force my lungs to take in air. My heart was hammering so violently against my ribs I was genuinely afraid it might burst.

That was too close. Way too close.

My chin still felt warm where Vincenzo’s fingers had gripped me. He was suspicious. He wasn’t a man who let things slide, and the fact that he found something "familiar" about me was a massive red flag. If he decided to look into my background beyond the superficial fake papers I’d submitted, I was dead. Or worse, he’d find out I was the woman from the hospital and banish me from Leo’s life forever.

And then there was the woman in the cream suit.

I looked toward the empty doorway, my chest tightening with a completely different kind of ache. She had looked so at home here. The way she casually called him Vincenzo, the way she stood next to him with an air of effortless ownership—she belonged in his world. I was just a ghost in a gray apron, scrubbing his floors.

I slowly gathered my cleaning rags and the bucket of water, my body feeling heavy and exhausted. I needed to get out of this wing before Mrs. Gable caught me slacking.

As I walked down the grand winding staircase toward the servants' quarters, I could hear muffled voices coming from the lower level. The mansion was massive, but the acoustics of the marble hallways carried sound remarkably well if you knew where to listen.

"The alliance with the Moretti family must be finalized by the end of the season, Vincenzo," an older man's voice echoed from behind the heavy oak doors of the main study. It sounded like one of the syndicate elders. "Lucia is the perfect match. She has the backing of the European branch. You need this to secure your position."

I stopped on the landing, my fingers tightening on the handle of my plastic bucket.

Lucia. So that was the woman in the cream suit.

"I don't need a woman to secure my position," Vincenzo’s voice cut through the air, cold, sharp, and entirely devoid of emotion. "I run this city because I took it, not because of a marriage certificate."

"But the Council requires stability," the old man pressed. "And Leo needs a mother. A proper one, from our world. Not some ghost."

I felt a cold splash of dread in my stomach. A proper mother. They wanted to bring a woman like Lucia into this house to raise my son. A woman who looked at me like I was dirt would be the one tucking Leo into bed, the one he would learn to call Mama.

The thought made me physically sick.

"I will handle my son," Vincenzo replied, his tone ending the conversation. "The meeting is over."

I quickly hurried down the remaining stairs before the study doors could open, my heart in my throat. I practically ran back to the safety of the kitchens, my mind spinning. I had to be careful. I had to stay under the radar, but the timeline was shrinking. If Vincenzo married this Lucia, my chances of even being in the same room as Leo would drop to zero.

"Alessa!"

I jumped, nearly spilling the dirty water from my bucket.

Mrs. Gable was standing near the pantry, her clipboard tucked under her arm. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at me. "Why are you breathing so hard? And why did it take you so long in the playroom?"

"I—I apologize, Mrs. Gable," I said, dropping my head and putting on my best submissive voice. "The young master was in the room, so I had to work slowly to avoid disturbing him. And then the Don came in, so I waited until they left."

Mrs. Gable sighed, a harsh, irritated sound. "Well, you’re in luck. The young master's primary nanny has suddenly taken ill. Some stomach bug. The temporary staff we called won't be here until tomorrow morning, and the Don expects his son's schedule to be kept perfectly."

She stepped closer, tapping her pen against her clipboard. "You managed to keep him quiet earlier, didn't you?"

My heart leapt into my throat. "I... yes, ma'am. He was very well-behaved."

"Good. You’re going to help watch him this afternoon," Mrs. Gable said, waving her hand dismissively. "Just keep him in his room, feed him his lunch, and make sure he doesn't make a mess. If he cries, you'll be back to scrubbing toilets by dinner. Understood?"

"Yes, Mrs. Gable. Thank you. I won't let you down," I said, trying to suppress the massive wave of joy and terror washing over me.

"Go wash your hands and put on a clean apron," she commanded. "He's waiting."

Five minutes later, I was knocking softly on the door of Leo's bedroom. When I pushed it open, the little boy was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at his shoes again.

But the moment his gray eyes met mine, his face lit up in a way that made every single sacrifice of the last three years entirely worth it.

"Funny glasses!" he chirped, sliding off the bed and running toward me.

I shut the door behind me, a genuine, tearful smile breaking across my face as I knelt down to his level.