The housemaid Lena Grant gently opened her arms as three-year-old Theo approached

Lena sat on the edge of the leather chesterfield sofa in Emmett’s private study, the heavy mahogany doors locked securely behind her. The room was dark, illuminated only by the dying embers in the fireplace and a single brass reading lamp on the massive executive desk. Theo had cried himself to sleep in her arms, utterly exhausted by the tension. She laid him gently on the sofa cushions, draping a heavy cashmere throw blanket over his small frame.

She stood by the fireplace, her arms wrapped tightly around her own waist, trying to stop the violent shaking that had taken over her body. She had ruined everything. The alliance between the Crowne and Voss families was the only thing keeping the city from descending into an all-out bloodbath. Because she couldn't hide her bruises well enough, because she couldn't keep Theo quiet, people were going to die.

The brass doorknob turned, clicked, and then someone knocked three times.

"Lena. It's me."

Lena rushed to the door, turning the heavy deadbolt and pulling it open. Emmett stepped inside, shedding his tailored suit jacket and tossing it carelessly over a chair. He looked exhausted, the sharp lines of his face cast in deep shadows. A small artistic tattoo peeked just above his collar, a stark contrast to the crisp white cotton of his shirt.

He locked the door behind him and turned to her. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

"Is he asleep?" Emmett finally asked, his voice a low rumble.

"Yes," Lena whispered. "He was so frightened, Mr. Crowne. I am so sorry. I tried to keep him away from her, I tried to take the punishments when he wasn't looking, but—"

"Stop," Emmett commanded gently. He crossed the room, stopping mere inches from her. He towered over her, his broad shoulders blocking out the dim light of the room. "Do not apologize for surviving in a house that failed to protect you."

Lena looked down at the floor, a stray tear escaping her eye and tracking down her fair, rosy skin. "She is right, sir. I am just a maid. You shouldn't have thrown the Voss alliance away for me."

"Look at me, Lena."

When she didn't move, Emmett reached out. His large hands, decorated with striking negative space tattoos, gently cupped her face. His thumbs brushed away her tears, tilting her chin up until her bright, expressive eyes met his.

"You are not just a maid. You are the only person in this godforsaken world who loves my son the way a mother should," Emmett said, his voice thick with an emotion she had never heard from the ruthless mafia boss. "Now, I need you to do something for me, and I need you to be completely honest."

"Anything," Lena breathed, her heart racing at his touch.

"Show me," he demanded softly. "Show me what she did to you while I was gone."

Lena hesitated, a deep flush of shame burning her cheeks. Slowly, with trembling fingers, she unbuttoned the cuffs of her black dress. She rolled up the left sleeve, exposing her pale forearm. Mottled purple and yellow bruises, shaped like cruel fingertips, marred her delicate skin. There was a thin, angry red burn mark near her wrist.

Emmett inhaled sharply, a vicious, murderous light flaring in his dark eyes. His jaw tightened as he gently traced the edge of the burn with his thumb, being careful not to cause her any pain.

"She used the curling iron," Lena whispered, ashamed. "Theo ran to me when he scraped his knee. I hugged him. She didn't like it."

"I am going to kill her," Emmett swore, the promise absolute and terrifying. "I am going to tear her family apart piece by piece."

"No, Emmett, please," Lena pleaded, her hands gripping his wrists. "Just let us go. Theo and I. We can disappear. You can fix this with her father."