Chapter 7
Lorenzo dropped to his knees in the middle of his study floor.
The most feared Mafia boss in Chicago—a man who commanded armies of soldiers and ruled a criminal empire—lowered his broad, muscular frame onto the Persian rug. He reached out his broad, heavily tattooed hands toward the sofa.
Sofie did not hesitate. She slid off the leather cushion, her yellow Mary Jane shoes tapping softly against the floorboards, and walked directly into Lorenzo’s open arms.
Lorenzo pulled the little girl tightly against his broad chest, burying his face in her golden-blonde curls. Tears—rare, sacred, and unstoppable—spilled from his piercing blue eyes, wetting the lapel of his black luxury suit as he held his brother’s daughter for the very first time.
"Sofie..." Lorenzo choked out, his deep voice shaking with an intense, fierce love that roared from the depths of his soul. "My sweet little angel... you are my family. You are a Duca."
Sofie wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, hugging him with all the strength in her three-year-old body. "See, Uncle Lorenzo? I told you I wanted a daddy's hug."
Lorenzo let out a broken, tearful laugh, kissing her rosy cheek over and over again, holding her as if she were the most precious treasure in the universe.
Standing near the desk, Rocco wiped his eyes with a linen handkerchief, his chest heaving with profound emotional relief. Clara collapsed into a leather armchair, weeping softly, her hands resting over her face as four years of crushing fear, hiding, and isolation finally evaporated into thin air.
After several long minutes, Lorenzo stood up, holding Sofie securely against his broad shoulder. He looked at Clara, his piercing blue eyes burning with an unshakeable, fierce commitment.
"Clara," Lorenzo said, his deep voice carrying the weight of an absolute, unbreakable oath. "You saved my brother's child. You raised Julian’s daughter with love and bravery. From this second forward, you will never scrub another floor, you will never hide in the shadows, and you will never be afraid again."
Clara looked up through her tears, her brown eyes wide with deep gratitude. "Mr. Duca..."
"You are family, Clara," Lorenzo interrupted gently, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You and Sofie will move into the master family wing today. You will have full security, luxury, and respect for the rest of your lives."
Rocco stepped forward, his expression hardening into a stern, alert focus. "Boss... if Julian was betrayed four years ago, that means the traitor who ordered his ambush is still alive in our network."
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Lorenzo’s face darkened instantly. The tender warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by an apocalyptic, icy rage that chilled the warm air of the study.
"Find out who was tracking Julian's routes four years ago, Rocco," Lorenzo ordered coldly, his jaw setting like concrete. "I want every communication log, every financial transaction, and every name from that night on my desk by sunset. Whoever tried to erase my brother's bloodline dies tonight."
