THE GREENHOUSE DOOR WAS UNLOCKED LONG BEFORE WE ARRIVED

My father stood at the bottom of the marble steps. He looked fragile in his oversized gray hospital sweats, breathing heavily in the cold night air. But his eyes—sharp, clear, and fiercely protective—were fixed entirely on Vanessa.

“Dad!” I ran down the steps and threw my arms around him. He felt so thin, his bones sharp beneath the cheap cotton.

“I’ve got you, Emma-bear,” he murmured, his speech slow but steady. He wrapped his good arm around my shoulders.

I looked at the older man who had driven him here—the “actor” who had brought the prune cake. Up close, I realized he didn’t just look like my father. They had the same nose, the same deep-set eyes.

“Emma,” my father said, nodding toward the man. “This is my older brother. Yuri. The real Viktor Petrov died twenty years ago.”

Yuri offered me a gentle, sad smile. “I told you Luca’s mother made him eat prune cake for luck. She did. Because your father baked it for him.”

Luca walked slowly down the steps, leaving Vanessa standing frozen on the porch. He stopped a few feet from my father, his eyes searching the older man’s weathered face.

“You saved my life,” Luca said quietly.

My father gripped his cane tight. “You were seven years old. Your father was drunk. He had a hunting knife, and he cornered you and your mother in the study. I heard the screaming from the garden.”

Tears welled in my eyes. My father had never spoken of violence in his life. He wouldn’t even kill spiders in our kitchen.

“I broke the glass door,” my father continued, his voice raspy. “I fought him. I didn’t mean to kill him, Luca. But he was going to kill your mother. And you.”

Luca closed his eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “And my mother helped you run.”

“She gave me the pocket watch. She gave me a new identity. And she told me to take my infant daughter and disappear. So I became an accountant. I became a ghost.” My father looked up at the grand mansion. “I never intended to come back. Not until Yuri found out what Vanessa was planning.”

“What is she planning?” Luca demanded, turning his fierce gaze back to his fiancée.

Yuri stepped forward, reaching into his brown suit pocket. He pulled out a folded, yellowed document and handed it to Luca.

“Vanessa’s father didn’t just orchestrate the cover-up,” Yuri explained. “He drafted a secondary deed to this estate. A clause stating that in the event of your mother’s death, the property would default to his legal firm if a suitable heir wasn't of age. But your mother found it before she died. She hid the original, binding deed in the greenhouse lockbox to protect your inheritance.”

Vanessa crossed her arms, her lips curled in a desperate sneer. “You have no proof of anything. You’re two old gardeners and a housekeeper.”

“We don’t need proof, Vanessa,” Luca said, his voice dropping to a terrifying calm. He didn’t look angry anymore. He looked like the ruthless boss the city feared. “Because this isn’t a courtroom. This is my house.”

He snapped his fingers.

Marco and the two security guards stepped forward, blocking Vanessa’s escape path.

“You brought thugs to a hospital tonight,” Luca said. “You traumatized my nephew. You threatened the woman who cares for him.” He looked at me, and his dark eyes softened for a fraction of a second before hardening again. “The wedding is off. Your family’s accounts with my business are frozen as of midnight. You have exactly five minutes to walk off my property before I let Marco escort you to the police with a file detailing your father’s extortion.”

Vanessa’s face went chalk white. She looked at her two hired men, but they had already backed away, wanting no part of Luca’s wrath.

“You can’t do this,” she hissed, her voice trembling. “My family will ruin you.”

“Let them try,” Luca said.

Vanessa grabbed her leather duffel bag. She didn’t look at Leo. She didn’t look at me. She turned and practically ran down the driveway, her high heels clicking frantically against the asphalt until she disappeared into the darkness.

Silence fell over the driveway.

Leo tugged on my apron. I looked down, and he held his arms up. I scooped the little boy up, resting him on my hip. He buried his face in my neck, exhausted.

Luca walked over to us. He reached out and gently brushed a stray curl from Leo’s forehead.

Then he looked at my father.

“You shouldn’t be standing out in the cold,” Luca said gently. “You need to rest.”

My father leaned heavily on his cane. “I need to go back to the hospital, Emma. The nurses are probably frantic.”

“I’ll take you,” I said immediately.

“No,” Luca interrupted. He looked at Marco. “Call the private medical suite on the third floor. Have it fully prepped. Bring in the best cardiovascular specialists in the state. Put them on my payroll.”

I stared at him. “Luca, you don’t have to—”

“He saved my life, Emma,” Luca said, his eyes locking onto mine. “He is family. And family doesn’t sleep in public hospitals. He stays here.”

For the first time in months, I felt a massive weight lift off my chest. I looked at my dad, who was smiling at me through his exhaustion.

“Come inside,” Luca said, gesturing toward the warm, brightly lit mansion.

We walked through the grand doors, leaving the cold and the secrets of the greenhouse behind. But as Marco closed the heavy oak doors, I noticed something tucked inside the collar of my father’s hospital shirt.

A thick, gold chain.