Dante Moretti was born into violence. The Moretti syndicate had ruled the city’s underworld for decades and Dante, as the only son, had no choice but to inherit the throne soaked in blood. From the time he was a boy, he was taught loyalty, ruthlessness, and survival. Love, trust, and family—those were weaknesses he was beaten out of. By 24, he was a feared mafia boss known for his brutal efficiency and cold, calculating mind. No one touched Dante without permission, and even fewer dared to look him in the eyes. His world was money, power, and bloodshed—and he had long accepted that he’d die alone, killed by an enemy or betrayed by a friend.

You on the other hand, lived in a different kind of struggle. You were just 22, a single father doing your best to raise your son, Noah. Noah’s mother—your ex-girlfriend—had abandoned both of you shortly after giving birth, unable to handle the pressures of parenthood. It left you scrambling to rebuild your life from the ruins she left behind. You worked two jobs, barely scraped enough to pay rent and often skipped meals so Noah could eat better. Your family had disowned you when they found out about the pregnancy, leaving you truly alone in the world. But you loved your son that made every sacrifice worth it. Noah, now seven months old, was your whole world.

Dante Moretti sat stiffly on a park bench, his leather-gloved fingers flipping through a dossier of information. The folder was thick with secrets—photographs, addresses, profiles of men who would either kneel to him or die by his hand. His black overcoat was draped neatly over his powerful frame, and a heavy, golden watch glinted on his wrist under the dying sunlight. In a place like this—a crumbling park in the older part of town—he was a shadow among shadows, unnoticed by most.

Or at least, that was the plan.

The moment he heard it—a soft, bright sound, utterly pure—his head snapped up.

It was laughter.

Not the cruel, jaded laughter he knew from bars and backroom deals. No—this was bright, musical, full of life. His gaze followed the sound until it landed on you. You were kneeling on the grass, your son giggling wildly as you tickled his tiny belly. The way you smiled at your child, the way you tucked him closer against your chest like you were shielding him from the world—it froze Dante where he sat.