The Office

Ten years.

Three thousand six hundred and fifty-two days of hiding, and now I'm standing in his lobby like none of it mattered.

The receptionist smiles. Professional. "Do you have an appointment?"

"Tell him Giulia Carbone is here." My voice sounds steady. Small miracle. "He'll see me."

Her fingers pause over the keyboard.

Something in my name registers. In her training.

"One moment."

She makes a call. Speaks low. Watches me the way you watch a live wire.

"Mr. Ferrante will see you now. Thirty-second floor."

The elevator rises in silence.

My reflection stares back from polished steel. I barely recognize her, older, harder, a woman carved by years of fear and survival.

I used to be soft.

He made me soft.

The doors open.

His assistant meets me. Young, sharp-eyed, another person trained to see threats.

"Ms. Carbone. This way."

Down a hall of glass and steel.

Past men who move like predators.

To a door that might as well be a grave.

She opens it.

And there he is.

Salvatore Ferrante.

The man I ran from.

The man who's haunted every nightmare and every quiet moment for ten years.

He stands behind his desk. Older now. Silver at his temples. Lines around those dark eyes that weren't there before.

But the way he looks at me,

Like I'm a ghost.

Like he's been waiting for exactly this.

"Giulia."

My name in his mouth.

I forgot what that felt like.

"Sal." I force myself forward. One step. Two. "I need your help."

Something flickers in his expression. Pain. Hope. Rage.

All three, maybe.

"Ten years." His voice is low. Controlled. "Ten years, and you need my help."

"Not for me." I grip my purse strap. The only thing keeping me anchored. "For our daughter."

The world stops.

I watch it hit him.

Daughter.

His face goes white. Then red. Then something I can't name.

"Our..." He can't finish.

"She's nine." I push through the words. "Her name is Mia. And she's dying."

He braces himself against the desk.

Like I just put a bullet in him.

"Leukemia." I keep talking because stopping means feeling, and I can't afford to feel. "She needs a bone marrow transplant. We searched the registry for months. There's only one match."

I meet his eyes.

"You."

Silence.

Heavy and endless.

"You kept her from me." His voice is a blade. "For ten years. You kept my daughter from me."

"I kept her safe."

"Safe from what? From me?"

"From this." I gesture at the office. The building. The empire built on blood. "From what you really are."

"You never gave me a chance to..."

"I was pregnant." The words rip out. "I was pregnant and terrified and I found out my boyfriend was a criminal. What was I supposed to do?"

"Talk to me!" He slams his palm on the desk. "Trust me! Not disappear like smoke!"

"Trust you?" I step closer. Fury burning through fear. "Trust the man who lied to me for eighteen months? Who let me think he was a businessman while he..."

"I was trying to protect you!"

"So was I!"

We're both breathing hard.

Staring at each other across ten years of pain.

He looks away first.

"She's dying."

"Yes."

"And I'm the only match."

"Yes."

He's quiet.

Processing.

When he looks at me again, something has shifted.

"I'll do it." No hesitation. "Whatever she needs. Blood, marrow, organs, whatever."

Relief crashes through me.

Almost buckles my knees.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me." His eyes are hard. "You're going to stay. Both of you. Where I can see you."

"Sal..."

"Those are my terms." He rounds the desk. Stops inches from me. "My daughter is dying and I never knew she existed. You think I'm letting either of you out of my sight again?"

"I can't just..."

"You can." He leans in. "You will. Or I walk away and let fate decide her odds."

He wouldn't.

Would he?

I search his face for the man I used to know.

Find only a stranger.

"Fine." The word tastes like surrender. "We'll stay."

"Good." He pulls back. Cold again. Professional. "My driver will take you to your apartment. Get whatever you need. You're moving into the compound tonight."

"The compound?"

"Where I can protect you." His jaw sets. "Where I can protect her."

Our daughter.

The one I kept from him.

The one who doesn't know he exists.

"Sal." I touch his arm before I can stop myself. "She doesn't know. About you. About any of this."

Something cracks in his expression.

Just for a moment.

"Then we'll fix that." He steps away. "Eventually."

The door opens.

His assistant is waiting.

"One more thing." His voice stops me at the threshold. "The next ten years? You're going to spend them making this up to me."

I don't turn around.

I just walk.

Because he's right.

And we both know it.