But his eyes hardened again when they shifted to Elena.
"Marco," Dante said sharply, "check her background again. Every detail. Every person she's spoken to in the last month. If there's a single flaw—"
Elena stood, voice shaking but firm.
"I told you already—I'm not your enemy. If I wanted to hurt Arianna, I wouldn't have shielded her tonight."
The room fell silent. Even Marco hesitated. Dante's jaw clenched, his eyes boring into hers. He was searching for cracks—for lies. But all he found was stubborn fire.
"Leave us," he finally ordered his men.
When the room cleared, only Dante, Elena, and Arianna remained. Arianna slipped down from his arms and ran straight to Elena, hugging her waist tightly.
"She saved me, Papa," Arianna said in a small voice. "Don't send her away. Please."
Dante's chest rose and fell, his hands tightening into fists. He was a man torn—his mind screaming distrust, his daughter's plea demanding faith.
Elena knelt beside Arianna, brushing away the girl's tears. "You're safe now. I promised I wouldn't leave, remember?"
Arianna smiled faintly and hugged them both—her tiny arms around her father and her nanny. For the first time, Dante and Elena were pulled close, so close that Dante could feel Elena's shaky breath against his chest.
Their eyes met.
For one dangerous second, the Mafia boss and the nanny stood bound by something neither wanted to admit—trust, fragile but undeniable.
Dante stepped back abruptly, shielding his emotions behind ice.
"You're staying," he said flatly. "For her sake."
Elena nodded, though her heart raced. She knew what he didn't say out loud: But I'll be watching you.
And Dante Romano knew what he didn't admit even to himself: She had just passed her first test. And that terrified him more than any enemy with a gun.