They Laughed as a Humiliated Maid Knelt in Broken Glass at a Mafia Gala — Then the Feared Boss Saw Her Drop a Man With One Forbidden Strike and Realized the “Weak” Servant Was the Woman He Had Searched for Years.

Wren looked down at the silver signet ring. The silver gleamed in the firelight, heavy with power, blood, and destiny.

For five years, she had lived like a fugitive. She had slept in cold rooms, eaten cheap food, and worn hand-me-down uniforms, all to hide from a ghost that refused to die.

"If I take this ring, Damian," Wren murmured, looking up into his dark eyes, "your war becomes my war. My enemies become your enemies."

"They were already my enemies the moment they tried to hurt you," Damian replied without a second of hesitation.

Wren took a deep breath. She reached out, taking the heavy silver ring from the velvet box, and slid it onto her right index finger—the same finger that had been cut by the broken champagne glass hours ago.

Damian’s face broke into a rare, breathtaking smile. He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest.

Wren didn't pull away. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face into the crook of his shoulder, letting the warmth of his body melt away five years of freezing solitude.

"Welcome home, my Queen," Damian whispered into her hair.

Suddenly, the encrypted satellite phone on the desk vibrated sharply.

Damian kept one arm around Wren as he reached over to answer it, switching it to speaker.

Luca's voice crackled through the speaker, urgent and tight with tension. "Boss... we have a satellite intercept from Palermo. Donati’s eldest son, Viktor Donati, just boarded a private jet to New York."