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She was only supposed to be the help… but she might just be his salvation. Billionaire Asher Brown is a man haunted by loss. Ever since his wife’s tragic death, his world has revolved around two things—his daughter, Chloe, and his business empire. Love is the last thing on his mind… until Dahlia Reigns walks through his door. Hired as Chloe’s live-in maid, Dahlia never expected to become more than just an employee. But as she brings warmth and laughter back into the Brown household, she finds herself drawn to the brooding man behind the suit. And Asher? He can’t seem to stay away from her. But not everyone wants to see them happy. Catherine, his late wife’s sister, has her own plans—and she’s willing to destroy Dahlia to keep Asher under her control. As secrets unravel and lines blur, Asher and Dahlia must decide: Will they risk it all for love, or will the past win once again? SPECIAL NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR Dearest incoming readers, this may sound unkind but it needs to be said. Please, if you're expecting a fast-paced, smutty romance book, then this one might not be the one for you. This book is a slow-paced, fluffy romance that focuses on building trust and a lovable communication with mature and understanding characters. Which means no toxicity from the ML and FL of any such. While there will be smut, more of it to come, please do not expect it within the first few chapters. If you're looking for something different and unique, I suggest you give this one a try, and if it's not your style, please skip. Bad and unnecessary comments will not be condoled. Thank you.

I was the odd one out in the Chicago mob. Other men's women spent their time fighting for affection, clawing for power, watching out for the homewreckers. Not me. I spent mine cleaning up after my boyfriend, Don Vincent Maro. His political rivals — I squared away. His brother's messes — I handled overnight. The women he kept on the side — I dealt with personally. Last month it got worse. He asked me to go chase off a man who'd been hanging around Sofia, his new girl. Sofia pouted. "Elena really can do everything." Vincent said, "That's why I keep her around." Sofia asked, "Won't Elena be upset?" Vincent paused. "Her? She's used to it." Seven years. No title in the Maro family. No public acknowledgment. Just one function — fixing things. This time, I was tired. I slid the last stack of documents across to Vincent. He signed them one after another without looking up. When he was done, he asked: Anything else? I said: No. It's all handled. What he didn't know was that at the bottom of that stack was the document terminating every identity I held inside the Maro family. The moment his pen touched that page, I no longer belonged to the Maros. And I no longer belonged to him.

Há três anos, o irmão do meu marido levou um tiro por ele. Então, Gwen trouxe a viúva do irmão, Eliza, para dentro da nossa casa. Eu era a Donna apenas no nome. Em tudo, precisava ceder lugar para ela. Certa vez, Eliza fingiu cortar os pulsos. Disse que eu a tinha levado a isso. Gwen agarrou meu pescoço. Havia intenção de matar nos olhos dele. — Saia daqui. A família Falcone não tem lugar para uma vadia venenosa como você. Ele entregou a ela a fundação de arte da família para “compensá-la”. Aquilo deveria ser meu. Dessa vez, não disse nada. Ele estava assinando uma pilha de contratos comerciais. Eu apenas deslizei os papéis do divórcio entre eles. Alguns dias depois, percebeu que eu não estava em casa. Procurou por toda Chicago. Não conseguiu me encontrar. Foi então que viu a sentença de divórcio. Só naquele momento entendeu. Eu tinha ido embora. Para sempre. Naquele dia, o intocável rei da Máfia de Chicago… desmoronou.

The contractions were ripping me in two. My vision was going dark. My husband, Don Vittorio, the man who ruled Chicago, squeezed my hand. His dark eyes burned with love. "Just a little longer, mia cara. You'll meet our baby soon." Sweat poured down my face. I still found the strength to smile for him. Then a nurse walked in. She held a syringe. I thought it was to stop the pain. But Vittorio’s hand fell away. He took a single step back. The needle sank into my arm. I heard Vittorio’s voice. It was cold steel. "Dose her carefully. She holds on until midnight. Not a minute sooner. Not until after Ornella delivers." And then I knew. He thought I married him for the money. He was stopping my labor. All for a sick Falcone family rule: the first son born is the next heir. Pain tore through me. I reached for him. Tears streamed down my face. I begged him to stop. He bit his lip. His voice was pure ice. "My brother is dead. Ornella carries his only heir. You will do as you are told. You and your child will not steal his birthright." The drug hit my veins. The violent squeeze in my belly, like some invisible hand, just… stopped.

"Please turn the lamp off, Maximilian. You do not want to see my stomach under this bright light," I whispered, pulling the heavy blanket over my chest. "I am never turning the lamps off again, Alexandra," Maximilian replied. He gently pulled the blanket out of my hands and tossed it aside. "Your ex-boyfriend was a blind fool. I want to look at every single inch of you. I am absolutely obsessed with your full hips, your thick thighs, and your soft stomach." For two years, data intern Alexandra Petrov believed her boyfriend turned the bedroom lights off because he was traditional. On the night of their second anniversary, she discovers the devastating truth. She finds him fully naked in their brightly lit apartment with her painfully thin older sister. He explicitly confesses that he only demands darkness because he is completely disgusted by Alexandra's heavy, curvy body. Heartbroken and humiliated, Alexandra runs into the freezing Chicago rain and directly crosses paths with Maximilian Volkov. He is the ruthless billionaire CEO of Volkov Industries, and he is secretly her ultimate boss. Maximilian is instantly captivated by her gorgeous face and her plump figure. He moves her into his highly secure penthouse and establishes a strict physical rule. There will be absolutely no hiding in his home. Maximilian will use his massive wealth to ruin the people who destroyed her self-esteem, and he will spend every single night worshipping her beautiful curves with all the bedroom lamps blazing brightly.

On my five-hundred-and-twentieth flight into Chicago, my boyfriend finally came to the airport for me. He held a bouquet of air-flown Blue Moon roses, and the diamond ring inside the velvet box caught the terminal lights. The moment he dropped to one knee, I heard the shocked gasps around us. “Eliana Lowe,” he said, his gray-blue eyes lifted to mine. “Marry me.” My fingers tightened around the handle of my suitcase. I held out my hand, my voice already shaking. "Luca, we--" The ring had barely slid over my finger when Luca laughed. He wasn't looking at me anymore. He was looking over my shoulder at the row of black SUVs idling by the curb. "Told you she'd say yes. Hand over the key to Warehouse Three." Laughter burst from the SUVs. Luca's circle spilled into view: casino managers, dock supervisors, rich kids who lived off the Moretti name, and Vivian Gray at the front in pale fur, laughing hard enough to wipe at the corner of her eye. “No wonder she stayed at your heels for ten years. If I had a pet this obedient, I wouldn’t have the heart to throw it out either.” Luca smiled and patted my head soothingly.“Eliana, it was just a joke. Don't be angry. I’ll make it up to you later.” I looked at the ring on my finger, then at the people laughing behind him. For ten years, I had played along with his games. This time, I didn’t want to anymore.

By day, he's Chicago's most powerful billionaire. By night, he's the city's most dangerous protector. Elena Moretti has spent years fighting for the forgotten—rescuing at-risk youth from the violence that claimed her brother's life. She doesn't trust wealth, power, or the men who wield them. So when enigmatic billionaire Dante Salvatore walks into her struggling community center with a check that could change everything, she knows there's a catch. Men like him don't save neighborhoods out of the goodness of their hearts. But Elena doesn't know Dante's secret: by night, he becomes The Sentinel, a masked vigilante dismantling the criminal empire that murdered his sister. As their worlds collide and attraction ignites between them, Elena begins investigating the vigilante whose methods both terrify and fascinate her—never suspecting the man she's falling for and the man she's hunting are one and the same. When a ruthless crime syndicate discovers The Sentinel's identity, Elena becomes the bait in a deadly trap. Dante must risk everything to save her, but when Elena uncovers the truth about the man behind the mask, she's forced to decide: Can she love someone who lives in shadows? And can a man who's spent years seeking vengeance ever truly step into the light? In a pulse-pounding tale of passion, danger, and redemption, two wounded souls discover that the most dangerous risk isn't fighting for justice—it's fighting for love.

The morning was cold and I was currency. My father handed me to Dimitri Volkov, Bratva, like I was a contract clause. I said no at the altar. Loud enough for everyone to hear. The priest kept going. Dimitri didn’t even blink. That was fact one: I was married without consent, in Chicago, to a man who accepted silence as agreement. I left him later. Not in rage. In clarity, after I saw another girl get caught in his world with no choice, just like me. Then I went to war. Law school had taught me precision, so I used it. Civil suits. Asset forfeiture. Anonymous tips to the right agencies. I took apart everything legitimate he’d built, piece by piece, until he bled territories and pride. He showed up bruised once, signed over forty percent of his clean empire to my name, brought therapy receipts. That was fact two: I dismantled the man who caged me, on paper, without firing a shot. I still have the necklace. The one he left in my lap that first night. I wore it through the worst, through the year I rebuilt alone, through every hearing. Last month I was pregnant in a courtroom, arguing a case I won. He was in the gallery. The diamonds sat above my collar. No one asked. I never explained. That was fact three: I took something from that night and made it mine. It doesn’t belong to him anymore. It doesn’t belong to what he did. It belongs to me.

Ich bin die beste Kunstfälscherin und Informationsspezialistin in ganz Chicago. Und ich verliebte mich in den Mann, dem die ganze Stadt gehörte – Don Vincenzo Russo. Zehn Jahre lang war ich sein Geheimnis, seine Waffe und seine Geliebte. Ich baute sein Imperium aus dem Schatten heraus auf. Ich dachte, ich würde einen Ring bekommen. Schließlich war er jede Nacht, die er in der Stadt verbrachte, in mir versunken und nahm sich seinen Vergnügen. Er flüsterte, ich gehöre ihm, dass es sich mit niemand anderem so gut anfühlen würde. Doch dieses Mal, nachdem er mit mir fertig war, verkündete er, dass er die russische Bratva-Prinzessin Katerina Petrov heiraten werde. Da wusste ich es. Ich war nicht seine Geliebte. Ich war nur ein Körper. Für ein Bündnis, für sie, opferte er mich. Er ließ mich sterben. Also zerstörte ich jedes Stück des Lebens, das er mir gegeben hatte. Ich machte einen einzigen Anruf bei meinem Vater in Italien. Und dann verschwand ich. Doch als der Don, der Chicago beherrschte, sein Lieblingsspielzeug nicht mehr finden konnte … wurde er wahnsinnig.

At another Sunday dinner at the Bellandi estate, Luca Bellandi's assistant, Ava Marino, was sitting in my seat. It was the first chair to Luca's right at the long walnut table, the seat everyone in Chicago's underworld knew belonged to Mrs. Bellandi. Ava sat there as if she had been born into it, her pale wrist brushing Luca's sleeve while she poured his wine. I stood in the doorway and looked at him. "She's in my seat. You don't have anything to say?" Luca raised his eyes. "You were late. Don't blame someone else for sitting down first. There are empty chairs over there. Sit if you want. If not, get out." The dining room went dead quiet, and before I could answer, his thoughts slipped into my ears. [Vivi, don't go. Come sit beside me. Tell them it's your seat. Tell me you still want to be my wife.] [Please get mad. Please care. Say you need me, and I'll give you the whole world.] In the past, those soft, trembling thoughts would have been enough. I would've swallowed the insult and stayed beside him like a loyal dog that didn't know when to leave. This time, I didn't. I slipped the wedding ring off my finger and laid it on the table. "If the Bellandi family can't even keep a wife's seat for me, then I guess this family doesn't need a wife anymore. Luca, let's get divorced."