The wallet hit the tile with a sound like a bone breaking. Dante Moretti did not move at first.

At 7:00 AM, a seven-vehicle armored convoy departed St. Jude Memorial under heavy armed escort.

The destination was not a hotel or a safehouse; it was the Moretti Ancestral Estate in Lake Forest—a seventy-acre fortress surrounded by twelve-foot wrought-iron walls, biometric perimeter gates, and thirty elite private security operators.

When the convoy rolled up the winding cobblestone driveway, the grand limestone manor stood proud in the crisp morning sunshine.

Dante stepped out of the lead Maybach, carrying five-year-old Lily in his arms. Beside him walked Elena, wrapped in an elegant cream cashmere coat provided by the estate staff, her hand held securely in Dante’s strong grip.

Lily’s eyes widened in sheer wonder as she looked at the manicured rose gardens, the fountains, and the grand marble staircase.

“Is this a castle, Daddy?” Lily asked in her sweet, innocent voice.

Dante smiled—a rare, radiant smile that his men had not seen in half a decade.

“It’s our home, Lily,” Dante answered softly. “And everything you see belongs to you.”

Mrs. Gable, the head housekeeper who had served Dante’s family for thirty years, stood at the entrance with tears in her eyes.

“Welcome home, Miss Elena,” Mrs. Gable curtsied with deep respect. “The master suite and the east nursery have been prepared according to Mr. Moretti’s orders.”

Dante carried Lily up the grand staircase to the sunlit nursery, where a custom four-poster canopy bed, shelves of storybooks, and a wardrobe filled with designer dresses were already waiting.

Lily gasped with joy, running across the plush Persian rug to hug a giant teddy bear sitting on the armchair.

Elena stood beside Dante in the doorway, resting her head against his shoulder.

“She hasn’t laughed like that in years, Dante,” Elena whispered.

“She will never stop laughing again, Elena,” Dante replied, wrapping his arm around her waist.

He kissed her forehead, then turned toward Marco Bellini, who was waiting at the end of the corridor with an encrypted tactical tablet.

“Marco,” Dante said, his expression returning to pure, lethal focus.