Part 2: The maid was hiding her bruises in the mob boss’s bathroom, praying he wouldn’t notice—until he walked in, saw her trembling reflection, and suddenly the entire mansion went silent.

The platinum band felt cool and heavy on Harper’s finger as she stood on the back terrace later that afternoon.

The nightmare that had haunted her for three long years was officially over. Derek Lawson was rotting in a federal penitentiary, Viktor Vance was an exile without an empire, and Noah was laughing downstairs with Marcus.

Gabriel walked out onto the terrace, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, pulling her back against his broad chest. He rested his chin on her shoulder, breathing in the scent of her hair.

"What are you thinking about, future Mrs. Vance?" Gabriel murmured softly.

Harper turned in his embrace, resting her hands against his lapels.

"I'm thinking that three weeks ago, I was sleeping in a broken car, praying my brother wouldn't freeze. And today, I’m engaged to the most dangerous man in New England."

"Dangerous to the world, Harper," Gabriel corrected gently, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

"Never to you. Never to Noah."

Marcus stepped out onto the balcony, holding a secure satellite phone. His face had returned to its usual stoic, business-like mask, but there was a subtle tension in his eyes.

"Boss," Marcus interrupted quietly.

"Sorry to break up the moment, but we have a situation at the South Boston docks."

Gabriel didn't release Harper, but his posture immediately hardened.

"What kind of situation, Marcus?"