PART2: The Mafia Boss Runs Into His Former Employee and Her Twins — A Secret Changes Everything…

 

Killian Blackwood couldn’t believe his own eyes when he saw her sitting on a stone bench in the middle of Central Park. Two strikingly similar children playing at her feet. Rosalie Bennett, the waitress who’d worked at his restaurant, the Black Rose, 3 years earlier. The one who’d vanished without a single explanation, who hadn’t even bothered to collect her final month’s pay.

 

 

 He’d had people searching for her for months afterward, but she’d seemed to dissolve into thin air, leaving not one trace behind. But it wasn’t the pull of the past that made the blood in the veins of the most powerful man in New York turn to ice. It was the two little twins. The boy in a blue shirt turned and laughed out loud when he caught a falling leaf, and Killian felt as if someone had driven a fist straight into his chest.

 

 The child’s eyes were a deep green, so rare that the entire Blackwood line carried that color like a hereditary mark. The dimple in his cheek was exactly what Killian saw every morning when he looked in the mirror. The little girl in a pink dress ran up beside her brother and turned too. The same striking emerald gaze, the same dimple, as if someone had been perfectly mirrored in each of them.

 

 They looked about 2 and 1/2 years old. The inevitable timeline following that fateful birthday night when he and Rose had crossed the line between employer and employee, a line that should never have been crossed. Killian stood frozen on the gravel path. a man who’d made the entire New York underworld tremble, now feeling his legs threatened to give way beneath him.

 

 His heart pounded hard, as if it might burst through his ribs, and his fist clenched so tightly his knuckles went white. Then Rose lifted her head as if she could feel the scorching weight of his stare. Their eyes met through the stream of joggers and tourists wandering the park. And in those brown eyes, Killian saw everything.

 

 The confirmation of what he was terrified to know. The raw panic of a woman who’d just been discovered. And something more than that. A massive secret poised on the edge of eruption, ready to change all their lives forever. Because those children were his, his flesh and blood, the heirs to the Blackwood Empire he’d never known existed.

 

 and Rose, that orphaned girl with those narrow, fragile shoulders. She’d lived three years in the dark, raising two tiny lives alone, for reasons Killian was about to discover were far more dangerous and far more painful than anything he’d ever faced in his brutal underworld.

 

 Rose felt that stare before she even saw him. It was a familiar spine- chilling sensation as if someone had just poured a bucket of ice water down her back.

 

 She lifted her head and the world stopped. Killian Blackwood was standing there less than 20 m away. His face drained of color as if he’d just seen a ghost from the past. No, worse than that. He was looking at Ethan and Emma with the eyes of a man struck by lightning under a clear sky. Rose’s heart seemed to miss a beat, then immediately began to slam wildly against her ribs. He knows.

 

 She could see it in the way he looked at the children, in the way his sharp, verdant irises moved from Ethan to Emma and then back to her, horror braided with pain. The survival instinct Rose had honed through 27 years of a wretched life rose up at once. She didn’t think, didn’t weigh anything. She simply moved.

 

 She bent down and swept Emma up into her arms, her other hand closing hard around Ethan’s tiny fingers. And she started walking fast in the opposite direction. “Mom, where are we going?” Ethan asked, his voice full of confusion as she dragged him along at an unusual pace. “Mom, I’m not done playing,” Emma protested, trying to squirm in her mother’s grip.

 

 But Rose didn’t stop. She couldn’t. She’d been running for 3 years. Had built a new life. poor but safe, had protected the children from the dangerous world their father belonged to. She couldn’t let it all collapse because of a chance encounter. But Rose had forgotten one thing. Killian Blackwood wasn’t the kind of man anyone could run from.

 

 She heard quick footsteps behind her, heard her name called out through the open space of the park. Rose, his voice was low and commanding, the very voice she’d tried to forget for 3 years, and yet it still haunted her dreams. She moved faster, almost running, but with a 2 and 1/ halfyear-old in her arms and another child struggling to keep up on short legs.

 She couldn’t possibly outrun a man who stood 1 m 88 with long strides in iron resolve. Killian cut her off right before the park exit. He stood there blocking her view, his chest rising and falling from the run, his green eyes burning with an emotion Rose didn’t dare name. Rose,” he said her name again, softer this time, as if he were trying to rein himself in. “Don’t run, please.

” Ethan ducked behind his mother’s leg, wideeyed, staring at the strange man with fear. Emma, in Rose’s arms, fell silent, too, as if she could feel the air tightening between the adults until it was hard to breathe. Rose stood there, unable to move forward, unable to retreat, trapped between past and present.

 She looked at Killian and saw his gaze trembling as it rested on the children. Then he asked, his voice rough, as if every word had to force its way past a stone lodged in his throat. “Whose children are they?” Rose. The silence stretched until it felt as if time itself had stopped. Rose could hear birds singing, the distant laughter of children somewhere far away, the traffic on the street beyond the park.

 But it all seemed muted, as if someone had turned the world’s volume down, leaving only that question echoing in the space between them. She could lie. She’d prepared a story for this moment, a story about another man, another affair. But when she looked into Killian’s eyes, eyes that reflected Ethan and Emma as if he were looking into a mirror, Rose knew every lie would be meaningless.

 He already knew. He only needed her to confirm it. Tears spilled out before Rose could stop them. She cried without sound, the drops sliding down her cheeks, and she nodded. A small nod, almost imperceptible, but enough to shatter every wall she’d built over the last 3 years. Killian looked like someone had punched him in the gut.

 He staggered back a step, one hand bracing against the trunk of a nearby tree to steady himself, his face twisted with something Rose had never seen on that always cold, controlled expression. Pain, fury, and something that looked like a heart breaking apart piece by piece. 2 and 1/2 years. He had two children, and he hadn’t known for two and a half years.

 Why? He asked, his voice strangled. Why didn’t you tell me? Rose wanted to explain. She wanted to tell him about the fear, about what she’d witnessed, about his mother’s words that night. But this wasn’t the place to say any of it. Not in the crowded park with two frightened children at her side, with curious passers by casting glances their way.

Not here, Rose said, her voice shaking. Please, not in front of the children. Killian looked at Ethan and Emma. Saw the fear in those green eyes so identical to his, and something in him eased. He drew a deep breath, forcing himself back into the calm he was known for in the underworld. “Fine,” he said, his voice still unsteady but more controlled. “We need to talk in private.

I swear I won’t hurt you or the children. You know I never break my word.” Rose knew that. No matter who he was, no matter how dangerous his world could be. Killian Blackwood kept his promises. She looked down at Ethan, gripping her pant leg with all his strength, at Emma resting her head on Rose’s shoulder.

 worry written in her eyes. Then she looked back at Killian, the man she’d tried to run from, only for fate to keep pushing them toward each other. “Fine,” she whispered, resignation heavy in her voice. “I’ll go with you,” Killian pulled out his phone and made a brief call. In less than 10 minutes, a gleaming black Mercedes rolled to the curb near the park.

 A tall man with red hair and an ice cold face stepped out. Rose recognized him instantly. Finn O’ Connor, Killian’s right-hand man. the one she’d seen standing like a shadow behind her boss late at night in the restaurant. She instinctively took a step back. Three years of living in fear making her whole body go tight.

 Killian caught the tremor in Rose’s eyes. He signaled Finn to keep his distance, then spoke to her softly. Finn will drive. There’s nothing to be afraid of. I promised you. Rose swallowed, nodding reluctantly. She lifted Emma, took Ethan’s hand, and walked toward the car. Finn opened the rear door for them, his face unreadable, but his eyes flicked quickly over the children with something in them Rose couldn’t quite name.

 Killian took the front passenger seat, deliberately not sitting beside Rose so she wouldn’t feel cornered. The car moved off into a suffocating silence. Rose held Emma tight against her chest, feeling her heart hammer out of rhythm. She didn’t know where they were going. She didn’t know what was waiting ahead. Everything she’d fought to build over the last 3 years, the anonymous life, the fragile safety, was breaking apart piece by piece.

 “Mom, who’s that man?” Ethan’s clear voice rose into the heavy air. The little boy was looking at Killian through the gap between the front seats. His big green eyes bright with curiosity. Rose saw Killian’s shoulders stiffen. He turned to look at Ethan, and she could see his jaw clench as if he were holding back a brutal pain deep in his chest.

 I’m your mother’s friend,” Killian answered, his voice rough. “What’s your name?” Ethan asked again, completely unaware of the adults tension. “Killian.” “Kilian?” Ethan repeated, mangling the name with innocent effort. “Your name’s really hard to say.” A strange sound slipped from Killian’s throat. Half laugh, half choke.

 He turned back to face forward and didn’t say anything else, but Rose could see his hand tighten until his knuckles blanched white. 20 minutes later, the car stopped in front of a skyscraper in Manhattan. Rose looked up, feeling smaller and more lost than she ever had in her life. They took a private elevator to the very top, Killian Blackwood’s penthouse.

 When the doors opened, Rose felt as if she’d stepped into a different world. The penthouse was vast with soaring ceilings and floor toseeiling windows that framed all of New York. The interior was minimalist, but unmistakably expensive. Black, gray, and white tones shaping a space that was luxurious and yet so cold it made her skin prickle.

 There wasn’t a single family photo. Not one personal object, only the hollow perfection of money. Rose drew in on herself. She stood in a living room as large as the shabby apartment she rented in Brooklyn. And she felt like a stain in the middle of all that elegance. Cheap clothes, worn heels, hair hastily tied back.

 She didn’t belong here. She’d never belonged here. Killian watched her, then pulled out his phone and made another short call. Bring children’s toys up to the penthouse right now. Anything suitable for 2 or three year olds. 15 minutes later, an employee arrived with two large bags stuffed with toys, toy cars, dinosaurs, dolls, building blocks.

 After a few minutes of shyness, Ethan and Emma began to play on the expensive Persian rug. Their bright laughter the only sound that pushed back the penthouse’s chill, if only a little. Killian stood watching the children for a long moment, his green eyes holding something Rose couldn’t begin to read.

 Then he turned to her and motioned for her to sit on the sofa across from him. He sat down, his hands clasped together, elbows braced on his knees, looking straight into her eyes. “Now,” Killian said, his voice low and unshakable. “I want to know everything from the beginning. Before Rose could even begin to speak, she looked at the man sitting across from her, and the memories of everything she knew about him came rushing back like a flood.

 Killian Blackwood, 37 years old, was a name that made all of New York feel both respect and fear. He wasn’t merely a successful businessman the way the media reported, but the heir and ruler of the most powerful underground empire on the east coast of the United States. His father, the boss Patrick Blackwood, had died five years earlier from a sudden heart attack, leaving his only son a vast empire stretching across Manhattan and Brooklyn.

 On the surface, Killian owned a chain of high-end restaurants, including the Black Rose, where Rose had once worked, along with five-star hotels and legal casinos in Atlantic City. Those businesses brought him in hundreds of millions of dollars every year, more than enough to place him on business magazines as a self-made success. a young billionaire with captivating green eyes and an enigmatic smile.

 But that was only the tip of the iceberg. Beneath that glossy shell was an entirely different world. Arms trafficking through crossber networks. Protection rackets for hundreds of businesses across the city. Loans with crushing interest rates that no one dared to repay late. The Blackwood Empire was a machine that ran flawlessly in the dark.

And Killian controlled it with an iron hand. Yet even in that brutal world, Killian had rules of his own. No drugs, absolutely never, and no human trafficking. Those were two lines he would never cross, no matter how tempting the profit might be. His father had taught him that some things in this life were so filthy that no amount of money could ever wash them clean, and Killian had held to that principle even when many rivals mocked him as weak.

Rose remembered the late nights at the restaurant when she’d accidentally overheard scattered fragments from longtime employees. They spoke about their boss with a reverence threaded with admiration. They spoke of his green eyes, a rare shade like emerald, a distinct hereditary mark of the Blackwood bloodline across generations.

They spoke of his dangerously alluring appearance, tall with hair black as ink, facial features sharp and cold as if carved from stone, and the way he walked into a room and made the air thicken. But they also spoke of his loneliness. Killian Blackwood, the most powerful man in New York, was also the loneliest.

 He trusted no one but Finn. He loved no one, let no one close, and his mother, Catherine Blackwood, the woman called the ice queen of the underground upper society, always pressed him to marry the daughters of Allied families to secure power, especially the Caruso family. Rose shivered at the thought of that name.

 Raymond Caruso, 45 years old, was an Italian mafia boss who controlled the parts of New York Killian hadn’t yet touched. He was the most dangerous enemy of the Blackwood Empire, forever circling, forever searching for a weakness to strike. The relationship between the two families was like two wild beasts living in the same forest, always growling and warning, yet neither daring to make the first move.

 Catherine wanted to turn that hostility into an alliance through marriage. While Killian despised the idea with all his heart, yet had never dared to oppose his mother with true force. That was Killian Blackwood, a cold, ruthless mafia boss and also a man trapped inside his own empire. A man of absolute power, yet lonely down to the bone.

 And now that man was sitting across from Rose, waiting for her to explain why she’d hidden the truth of his heirs for nearly 3 years. Rose drew a long, steady breath, trying to hold back the emotions surging in her chest. She didn’t know where to begin, but the patient waiting look in Killian’s eyes made her understand he wasn’t going to let her hide anymore.

 And maybe after everything that had happened, he deserved the truth. Not only about the children, but about her, about who she really was. “I don’t know where to start,” Rose said, her voice trembling. Killian didn’t press her. He simply waited in silence. Ethan and Emma’s laughter drifted from the corner of the room where the children were absorbed in their new toys, a soft little melody threading through the tension.

 Rose looked toward them, drawing courage from the simple fact that they existed. And then she began. I was orphaned when I was 5, she said, her voice sounding as if it came from somewhere very far away. My parents died in a car accident. I don’t remember much about them, only a few blurred fragments. my mother’s perfume, my father’s laughter, and then one day, someone came to my kindergarten to pick me up and said I wasn’t going home anymore.

 My parents had gone very far away, very far, and they weren’t coming back. Killian watched her, his green eyes dimming. He didn’t speak, but the way he leaned forward showed he was listening with his full attention. I was put into the orphan system. Rose continued, bitterness cutting through her words. Do you know what they call those places? Homes of compassion, shelters.

 Such beautiful names for places with no compassion in them at all. She paused, swallowing the knot in her throat. I went through seven different orphanages in 9 years. Every place was the same. Crowded, deprived, and no one truly cared. We were just numbers on paper, mouths to feed, problems to manage. No one asked if I cried every night.

 No one asked if I missed my parents. No one cared. Rose felt her eyes burn, but she didn’t let the tears fall. She’d cried enough in the last 27 years, and she didn’t want to cry in front of this man, even though her heart achd as she reopened old wounds. When I was 14, her voice dropped, almost a whisper. I was adopted by a family.

 For the first time, I had hope, you know. I thought I was going to have a real family, my own room, a place that was mine. She stopped and the silence stretched long enough for Killian to understand that whatever came next wasn’t something she could say plainly. He saw the way her shoulders trembled, the way her hands clenched together until her knuckles turned white.

 “They weren’t good people,” Rose finally said, her voice strangled. “I don’t want to go into details, but they did things that made me understand hell isn’t under the earth. Hell can be inside a house with a white fence and flowers in the yard.” Killian’s fist tightened, his jaw locking. A raw fury flared in his chest. Fury at the people who’d hurt her, even though he didn’t know who they were or what exactly they’d done.

 He was a man who’d seen and done brutal things in the underworld. But the thought of a lonely 14-year-old girl forced to endure unspeakable cruelty made him feel sick. I ran away when I was 17. Rose went on, her voice steadying as if she were telling someone else’s story. No money, nowhere to go. Not a single person in the world who cared whether I lived or died.

 I drifted through the streets of New York for months. I slept in subway stations, in parks, anywhere I could find shelter. I did whatever I had to do to survive, washing dishes in filthy restaurants, cleaning office buildings, tending bar until 3:00, 4 in the morning. She looked up at Killian, and he saw in those brown eyes not self-pity, but an astonishing kind of endurance.

 I lived like that for 10 years. No family, no friends, no one. And then three and a half years ago, I got hired as a waitress at the Black Rose. For the first time since she’d started speaking, a small glimmer lit Rose’s eyes. It was the first stable job I’d ever had. A livable wage, health insurance, and management that wasn’t too bad.

 I could afford a tiny room with a real bed with hot water. I started to think life could be better. She looked at Killian, her gaze heavy with everything she wasn’t saying out loud. And then I met you. Rose paused for a moment, and the memories of her first days at the Black Rose came rushing back like a slow motion film. She remembered being just one of dozens of servers in the restaurant.

 A nameless face in the crowd of weight staff dressed in black and white uniforms. Killian Blackwood, the true owner of the place, rarely appeared. He had an entire empire to run, and a restaurant, no matter how luxurious, was only a small part of his kingdom. But from time to time, he still came by to check in. And every time he did, the whole restaurant seemed to hold its breath.

 “The first time I saw you,” Rose said, her voice taking on a faint, dreamy quality, as if she were reliving the moment. “I’d been working there for about 2 months. That day, I made a stupid mistake. My hand slipped and I broke an expensive wine glass while I was serving. The manager, a man named Henderson, dragged me into a corner of the dining room and tore into me as if I’d set the whole building on fire.

 Rose remembered with painful clarity the humiliation of standing there with her head bowed, taking the abuse, while a few co-workers glanced over with eyes that held either pity or relief that it wasn’t them. Henderson didn’t just yell at her about the broken glass. He pulled out a whole list of other things.

 from the way her smile at customers wasn’t bright enough to the fact that she walked too slowly. She’d nearly cried, but she swallowed the tears the way she’d been doing for more than 20 years. And then I looked up and I saw you standing there,” Rose said, watching Killian with an expression that was hard to read.

 “You were a few meters away, and I don’t know how long you’d been there watching the whole thing. Your face didn’t show anything. Your gaze was shrouded in an unyielding Arctic frost. You didn’t say a word. You just looked at Henderson once and then you turned and walked away. Killian sat in silence listening and he remembered that day.

 He remembered the small girl with brown hair and wet eyes standing there and taking it, not arguing, not defending herself, only lowering her head as if she was used to being treated badly. He remembered the cold anger that had risen in him. Not because of the broken glass or the way Henderson was scolding an employee, but because of something he’d seen in the girl’s eyes. Resignation.

familiarity with pain as if she’d been treated that way all her life and didn’t expect anything else. The next day, Henderson was fired,” Rose said. “I didn’t know why at the time. I only heard co-workers whispering that he’d done something that displeased the owner. I didn’t dare think it had anything to do with me.

” She paused, her gaze turning faintly luminous as she remembered the second time. And then, a few weeks later, there was a night I was working the late shift. The restaurant was close to closing. Only a few tables left. One of the customers had had too much to drink. Rose’s voice lowered and her hands tightened around each other without her realizing it.

 He started calling me to his table over and over for stupid reasons. Then when I came close, he grabbed my wrist and yanked me toward him. His breath riaked of alcohol, and he said things, disgusting things. Rose still remembered the feel of that rough hand crushing her wrist. The surge of fear and helplessness as she tried to pull away and couldn’t.

She’d been about to scream, but right then a shadow appeared beside her. “You came out of nowhere. I don’t know from where,” Rose said, looking at Killian. “You didn’t shout. You didn’t hit him. You didn’t make a scene. You just stood there, looked down at the drunk man with eyes cold as winter, and said only one sentence.

 I didn’t hear what you said, but he let go of me immediately. his face going pale like someone who’d just seen death. He stammered an apology and ran out of the restaurant like the devil was on his heels. Rose remembered standing there, her wrist still aching, her heart pounding out of control, staring at the man who just saved her with a mixture of shock and gratitude.

And for the first time, Killian Blackwood spoke to her. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice low and unexpectedly gentle. Rose lifted her head and looked straight into those green eyes. And in that moment, she saw something beneath the coldness he always wore. Behind that sheet of ice, she caught a glimpse of real concern, of a softness he might not even have known he possessed.

 “I’m fine,” she’d answered, her voice shaking. “Thank you,” Killian nodded, then turned away without another word. But that night, when Rose got back to her tiny rented room, she couldn’t sleep. She kept thinking about those green eyes, about the man everyone said was cold and ruthless, and yet he’d saved her without asking for anything in return.

 Rose stopped, her breathing heavier as the memory of that fateful night surged back. She glanced at Killian and saw he was watching her, too. His gaze layered with something complicated, as if he were reliving that night in his own mind. The night of his 34th birthday, the night that changed both their lives forever. Your birthday night, Rose whispered.

 And those three words alone were enough to make the air in the penthouse thicken. That night, the Black Rose had been closed to the public to host a private birthday party for its owner. The entire restaurant had been dressed in extravagance, fresh flowers everywhere, scented candles, and the most expensive bottles of wine money could buy.

 The guest list was filled with the most powerful faces in New York. From allied bosses in the underworld to influential politicians, from billionaire businessmen to well-known figures in high society, they all came to show respect to Killian Blackwood, to shake his hand, offer their congratulations, and of course, to strengthen their ties to the most powerful man on the east coast of the United States.

 Rose remembered working without pause that night, carrying drinks, serving food, trying to make herself invisible in a glittering crowd she didn’t belong to. But every so often, she still stole a look at Killian. He stood at the center of it all in a perfectly tailored black suit, a polite smile on his lips as he greeted each person.

 But Rose noticed something that perhaps no one else did. His eyes were empty, surrounded by hundreds of people, wrapped in praise and laughter. Killian Blackwood looked like the loneliest man alive. The party didn’t end until close to midnight. One by one, the guests left, and the restaurant was suddenly quiet after so much noise.

 The staff began cleaning up, and Rose was one of the last to stay. She was wiping down a table in the back when she realized Killian was still there. He was sitting alone at the bar, a bottle of whiskey in front of him, already half gone. The dim lights fell over his solitary figure, creating an image Rose would never forget, a powerful boss surrounded by luxury.

 And yet, he looked like a lost child. Rose should have ignored it. Should have kept working and gone home like any other night. But something held her in place. Maybe because she knew that loneliness too well. Maybe because she wanted to repay the kindness he’d shown her the night he’d stepped in to save her. Or maybe deep down she’d been drawn to him for a long time and hadn’t dared admit it.

 “Do you need anything?” Rose asked gently as she came closer. Killian looked up, his green eyes slightly blurred by alcohol, yet still sharp. He studied her for a long moment as if weighing something, then shook his head. You should go home. It’s late. I’m not finished cleaning yet, Rose replied.

 And then, without knowing why, she added. And you look like you need someone to talk to. Killian lifted an eyebrow, seemingly surprised by her bluntness. Then he gave a small smile. A smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Aren’t you afraid of me? Everyone’s afraid of me. I’ve been used to being afraid my whole life,” Rose said.

 And she sat on the stool, one seat away from him. “But tonight, you don’t look frightening. You look sad.” That sentence seemed to crack some invisible wall. Killian looked at her. Truly looked at her. Not the way he looked at an employee or a stranger, but the way you look at someone who might understand you. And then he began to talk.

 He told her about the pressure from his mother, the woman who always wanted him to marry the daughters of allied families to strengthen power. He told her about an empire he’d never been given the choice to inherit or refuse. He told her about Raymond Caruso, the enemy who was always waiting, always watching for him to make a mistake.

 He told her about the exhaustion of wearing a mask every day, of living in a world where no one really saw the man underneath. Rose listened, and when it was her turn, she spoke too. She told him about her small, fragile dream, a little bakery in the suburbs, where she could make warm, fragrant bread every morning.

 She told him about the years of loneliness, about the hunger to belong somewhere, about the thin hope that life could still become something better. They talked for hours, the whiskey slowly running low, and the distance between them slowly disappeared. Rose didn’t know the exact moment when everything shifted. Maybe it was when Killian looked at her and his eyes weren’t cold anymore.

 but strangely warm. Maybe it was when he said she was the first person who’d ever looked at him like a human being, not a mafia boss. Maybe it was when his hand brushed hers and neither of them pulled away. The first kiss came like something inevitable, gentle, and hesitant. But the second kiss wasn’t. It was fierce, hungry, as if they were both searching for something they’d been missing their whole lives. Rose knew it was wrong.

 She knew she was only an employee and he was the owner. She knew their worlds were separated by thousands of miles. But that night, in Killian’s arms, she didn’t care. That night, for the first time in more than 20 years, Rose felt seen, valued, and loved. Morning sunlight slipped through the curtains and woke Rose from sleep.

 She blinked a few times, her mind still hazy, trying to understand where she was. an unfamiliar ceiling, sheets softer than anything she’d ever lain on, and warmth pressed against her back. Rose’s heart seemed to stop for a beat as last night rushed back like a flood. She turned her head and saw Killian beside her, his face in sleep far gentler than the coldness he wore in daylight.

 Panic seized her immediately. She looked around and realized she was in the restaurant’s VIP room, the room she was allowed to enter only to clean, never to sleep. Her clothes were scattered across the floor, and the bare skin beneath the silk coverlet reminded her of what had happened. She’d slept with her boss.

She, an unknown waitress, had slept with Killian Blackwood, the most powerful mafia boss in New York. Rose slid out of bed as quietly as she could, trying not to wake him. She snatched up her clothes and pulled them on with shaking hands. She had to leave. She had to forget last night like some fevered dream.

 She had to return to the reality where she was a server and he was a man from an entirely different world. But as she reached for the door, a hand closed around her wrist. “Rose, wait,” Killian said, his voice low and rough with sleep. Rose went rigid, but didn’t turn around, she didn’t dare meet those green eyes, afraid that if she did, she wouldn’t have the strength to do what she needed to do.

 “I have to go,” she said, her voice trembling. “Last night was a mistake.” A mistake? Killian repeated, and there was a note of pain in his voice. Rose, look at me. No. Rose shook her head, still refusing to turn. You’re the owner, and I’m just an employee. You’re Killian Blackwood, and I’m just a waitress. No one knows. Our worlds are too far apart.

 Do you understand? Last night, last night was just alcohol and loneliness and a moment of weakness. It shouldn’t have happened, and it’ll never happen again. Killian was silent for a moment. Then he let her go. Rose felt as if her heart were being crushed as she stepped out of the room, but she didn’t look back. She couldn’t. The next 3 weeks passed in a painful silence.

 Rose kept working at the black rose as if nothing had happened. She smiled at customers, carried plates, collected tips, and then returned alone each night to her tiny rented room. Killian didn’t appear at the restaurant, as if he too were trying to avoid her. They were both trying to forget that night, trying to pretend it had never existed.

 But fate wouldn’t let Rose forget. About 2 weeks after that night, she began to notice something was wrong with her body. Every morning, she felt nauseated, especially when she caught the smell of coffee she’d always loved. She was more tired than usual, even when she’d slept enough. Her head spun often, dizzy enough that once she nearly dropped an entire tray of drinks, Rose tried to convince herself she was only coming down with something, that the changing weather was affecting her health, that all these symptoms would fade in a few days. But deep inside, a

fear was taking shape, a fear she didn’t dare name, didn’t dare think about, because if it was true, her life would never be the same again. In the end, Rose couldn’t stand the uncertainty any longer. After 3 weeks of symptoms that were becoming impossible to ignore, she stopped in front of a pharmacy on her way home after a late shift.

 She stood by the shelf for a long time, her heart pounding out of control, and then she reached for the cheapest pregnancy test she could find. She couldn’t bring herself to look the cashier in the eye as she paid, as if she were doing something shameful. Back in her rented room, Rose sat in the cramped bathroom with the test trembling in her hand.

 She followed the instructions, then set it down on the sink and waited. 3 minutes crawled by like three centuries. When she looked down, her heart seemed to stop. Two red lines, clear, unmistakable. Rose had to brace herself against the wall to keep from falling. Her head spun. Her legs felt as if all strength had been drained from them.

 She slid down onto the cold bathroom floor, staring at those two red lines as if looking long enough could make them disappear. But they stayed there, declaring a brutal truth she couldn’t run from. She was pregnant, Killian Blackwood’s child. The next day, Rose called out of work and went to a free clinic for low-income patients.

 She sat for hours among other women, most of them wearing the same anxious expression she felt on her own face. When it was her turn, she lay on the exam table with her hands clenched tight, praying the test had been wrong, praying it was all some mistake. But after the ultrasound, the doctor looked at her with a smile Rose couldn’t tell whether to read as congratulations or condolence.

 “You’re carrying twins,” the doctor said. “You’re about 5 weeks along, and I can see two separate sacks.” “Congratulations, twins, two babies.” Rose’s world collapsed completely. She couldn’t remember how she left the clinic. She couldn’t remember how long she walked before she got home. She only remembered sitting on the bed in her tiny rented room, looking around and feeling a despair she’d never known. No money.

 She lived on every small paycheck with no savings, no assets, no one, no family, no close friends, no one to lean on, no health insurance good enough to cover a twin pregnancy. How was she supposed to raise one child, let alone two? But then Rose thought of Killian. He was the father.

 He had the right to know and he had the means to help if he wanted to. Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t turn his back on his own children. Maybe he’d take responsibility. Maybe everything would be all right. Holding on to that fragile resolve, Rose went to the restaurant the next night. She wasn’t scheduled to work, but she knew Killian sometimes showed up late to handle business.

 She would find him, tell him, and whatever happened after that would happen. The restaurant was closed when she arrived. She used her staff key to slip in through the back, intending to look for Killian in his office. But as she passed the hallway leading toward the storage area, she heard voices. Killian’s voice and another voice she recognized as Finn’s.

 Rose stopped, Instinct pulling her into the shadows instead of pushing her forward. And what she saw changed everything. In the storage room, under a sickly yellow light, Killian stood over a man who’d been tied to a chair. Finn stood beside him, his face cold as ice. The bound man was moaning, begging, saying something about not having a choice, about being forced. But Killian didn’t soften.

 He [clears throat] said something in a voice so low and cold that Rose couldn’t make out the words from where she stood, but she could see his eyes. The green eyes she’d seen warm on his birthday night were ice now, ruthless, as if he were looking at a disgusting insect instead of a human being. There was no blood, no physical violence that she could see.

 But the threat, the danger that poured off Killian was more frightening than any bloody scene. This was who he really was. This was the world he belonged to. A world of darkness, of brutal power, of traitors punished without mercy. Rose backed away, one hand clamped over her mouth to keep from making a sound. She ran out of the restaurant, her heart slamming, her stomach twisting, and she knew with a certainty that hurt like a wound that she couldn’t tell Killian about the children.

 She couldn’t let her babies grow up in that world. She couldn’t let them become a part of that darkness. All that night and the entire next day, Rose couldn’t sleep. She lay on the bed in her cramped, rented room, one hand resting on her belly that was still flat, her mind spinning with a thousand thoughts pulling in opposite directions.

The image of Killian in the storage room haunted her. Those cold, ruthless green eyes, that threatening voice. And then she’d remember those same eyes on his birthday night, warm and gentle when they looked at her. She’d remember the way he asked if she was all right after he saved her from the drunk customer.

She’d remember the stories he shared about loneliness, about pressure, about the aching wish to be seen as an ordinary human being. Maybe he’d be different when he learned he had children. Maybe the instinct to be a father would wake something else inside him. Maybe she was judging him too quickly from a single scene.

 With all those waring thoughts, Rose decided to give herself one more chance to be sure. She would watch longer. She would try to understand who Killian truly was before she made a final decision. The next night, Rose went to work as usual. The restaurant was busy, and she threw herself into carrying plates and serving, trying not to let anyone see how tangled her thoughts were.

 Around 9:00 in the evening, she noticed a small stir among the staff. The new manager signaled for everyone to be extra careful, and Rose understood a VIP was about to arrive. Not long after, she saw Killian walk into the restaurant. But he wasn’t alone. At his side was an older woman, posture perfectly straight, silver hair swept into an elegant bun, a face so cold and proud it looked as if the whole world stood beneath her.

Catherine Blackwood. Rose had heard so much about her, the woman known as the ice queen, the one who’d built the Blackwood Empire from nothing alongside her husband, and who still held the family’s highest power even as a widow. Rose was assigned to serve the area near their table. She tried to act normal, delivering drinks to a nearby table, but her ears strained to catch the conversation between mother and son, and what she heard drove the final nail into the coffin of her fragile hope.

 “I spoke with Raymond Caruso,” Catherine said, her voice cold and decisive, as if she were announcing a business deal. “He’s agreed to give you his daughter. The wedding will unite the two empires, end every conflict, and create an alliance no one can defeat.” Rose nearly dropped the tray in her hands.

 She forced her face to stay calm and kept serving the next table, but every sense she had was locked on that conversation. “Mother, I told you already,” Killian began, his voice tired. “You need a woman worthy at your side.” Catherine cut in, her tone sharp as ice, someone with the right background, the right education, someone who can stand beside you at every social event, not some cheap waitress in this restaurant, or the long-legged, empty-headed girls you occasionally bring home.

 Rose felt as if someone had slapped her across the face. Cheap waitress. That was how Killian’s mother saw people like her. That was her place in the Blackwood world. No more and no less. She waited for Killian to object. Waited for him to say something. Anything to defend the dignity of people like her. But he was silent. A heavy silence that sounded like agreement.

 I understand what you want, Killian finally said. And there was none of the fierce resistance Rose had hoped to hear. But I need time. Time for what? Catherine demanded. To keep living like an irresponsible bachelor. You’re 34 years old, Killian. This empire needs an heir. This family needs to be secured. You can’t keep running from your responsibilities.

 Rose couldn’t listen anymore. She slipped back toward the kitchen, leaned against the wall, fighting the tears that threatened to spill. Everything was clear as daylight now. If she told Killian about the baby, about two babies, what would happen? In the best case, he would take responsibility. But Catherine would never accept her.

 She would be seen as a trap setter, a woman who got pregnant on purpose to cling to a wealthy family. Her children would grow up under their grandmother’s contempt. In the shadow of a mother judged unworthy. In the worst case, Killian wouldn’t believe her. or worse than that, his enemy, someone like Raymond Caruso, would find out about the children.

 [clears throat] They would become targets, a weakness for an enemy to exploit. They would grow up in danger, in darkness, in a world where a human life was cheap. Rose put her hand over her belly, where two tiny lives were growing, unaware of the brutal world outside. She’d lived through a childhood of hell. She’d endured more suffering than anyone should.

 She couldn’t let her children step into another hell, even if it was gilded and wrapped in silk. The decision was made. She would disappear. She would leave New York, leave the Black Rose, leave Killian Blackwood. She would give birth alone, raise them alone, protect them alone from the dark world their father belonged to.

 Even if she had to pay with her entire life, she would do it because it was the only thing she could do as a mother. Rose left New York that very night. She didn’t wait until the end of her shift. didn’t ask permission, didn’t collect the final month’s pay she was owed. She knew that any trace she left behind could become a clue that led Killian to her.

 And with the resources he had, finding an ordinary waitress wouldn’t be difficult if she wasn’t careful. She went back to her rented room, stuffed a few changes of clothes into an old backpack, left her last month’s rent on the table for the landlord, and walked out of the room she’d lived in for more than a year without looking back.

 She caught a night bus to Vermont, where Martha lived. the only distant relative she had left. Martha was her mother’s cousin, a widowed woman living alone in a small house in the quiet countryside. Rose had only seen her a few times when she was little before her parents died. But Martha was the only person she could think of in her desperation.

 When Rose showed up at Martha’s door at 4 in the morning, her belly already beginning to round, her eyes red from crying through the entire trip, Martha didn’t ask much. She simply opened the door, pulled Rose into her arms, and said she could stay as long as she wanted. Rose told her everything, about that fateful night, about the pregnancy, about who the father was and why she had to run.

Martha listened with sad eyes, but no judgment. Then she made an offer. Rose would be grateful for forever. Rose would live here under a different name. Lily Morgan, her mother’s maiden name. Martha would introduce her to the neighbors as a widowed granddaughter who’d come to live with her. No one needed the truth.

 Meanwhile, in New York, Killian realized Rose was gone. When she didn’t show up for work two days in a row, he went to her rented room himself only to find it empty. He questioned her co-workers, questioned the landlord, questioned anyone who might know something, but no one knew where she’d gone. Rose had vanished as if she’d never existed.

 Killian had Finn and his team search for 6 months. They dug through every record, checked every security camera, contacted every source they had, but Rose was like smoke. She didn’t use credit cards. She didn’t have a phone that could be tracked. She didn’t contact anyone in New York. She disappeared completely.

 And in the end, Killian had to accept the bitter truth that she didn’t want to be found. He thought she wanted to erase every trace of that night, of him, of everything connected to the black rose. He didn’t know that inside her, she was carrying two lives with his blood. In Vermont, Rose gave birth to Ethan and Emma in a small hospital on a freezing winter night.

 The labor was brutal, lasting more than 12 hours, and Rose thought she was going to die from the pain. Martha held her hand the entire time, the only person beside her in the most important moment of her life. When the first baby’s cry rang out, and then the second, Rose cried the way she’d never cried before. She named her son Ethan and her daughter Emma.

 Looking into their green eyes, eyes identical to their fathers. She knew she’d made the right choice. She would protect them at any cost. The next three years passed in poverty, but in peace. Rose worked part-time cleaning houses for families in the area, helping in the kitchen at a small restaurant in town.

 The money was thin, barely enough for the basics, but she didn’t complain. Martha watched the children while Rose worked, teaching them old lullabies, telling them fairy tales. Ethan and Emma grew up wrapped in the love of their mother and great aunt, knowing nothing about their powerful father or the dangerous world they’d been lucky to escape.

 But that peace didn’t last forever. 6 months earlier, Martha died suddenly from a heart attack. Rose found her lying motionless on the kitchen floor one morning, her face calm as if she were asleep. Rose screamed. She tried CPR. She called an ambulance, but none of it mattered. Martha was gone. And with her, the only pillar Rose had left collapsed.

 Worse, Martha left behind a massive medical debt from earlier hospital stays Rose hadn’t even known about. Rose’s small savings vanished quickly. She had no one to watch the children. She couldn’t afford rent. And part-time jobs in rural Vermont weren’t enough to keep three people alive.

 She needed money, a lot of money, and she needed it fast. There was only one place she could find work that paid enough to cover everything. New York. Rose knew it was a dangerous gamble. But she told herself New York was enormous. A city of millions. Killian had an entire empire to run. He couldn’t possibly notice every corner of every street. And it had been 3 years.

Maybe he’d forgotten her long ago. Had married Raymond Caruso’s daughter the way his mother wanted. Had built a life of his own. Rose would stay in Brooklyn, far from Manhattan. work the night shift at a laundromat and live quietly the way she had for 3 years. No one would find her. But fate had other plans.

 And on that fateful day in Central Park, when she took Ethan and Emma to the doctor and stopped to let them play for a while, she looked up and saw those familiar green eyes staring at her through the crowd. When Rose finished, silence settled over the penthouse like a heavy blanket. Killian sat there with a blank face, green eyes fixed on some undefined point ahead.

 Rose didn’t know what he was thinking, didn’t know how he would react, and that uncertainty made it hard to breathe. One minute passed, then two, then five. Ethan and Emma’s laughter floated from the corner of the room. The only sound in air so tight it felt suffocating. Finally, Killian spoke, his voice low and rough, as if every word had to fight its way through a brutal pain. “Why?” he asked.

 And that single word held more emotion than Rose could count. anger, hurt, confusion, and something that felt like breaking. Why didn’t you tell me? I had the right to know. They’re my children. I already explained,” Rose answered, her voice shaking, but she didn’t back down. “Your world is too dangerous.

” “And your mother?” She didn’t finish, but Killian understood. He remembered the conversation with his mother that night, remembered her words about cheap waitresses, and guilt surged through his chest like a fist closing around his lungs. If he’d pushed back harder, if he’d told his mother that women like Rose deserved respect, too.

 Maybe Rose wouldn’t have heard those words. Maybe she wouldn’t have run. Maybe he wouldn’t have lost 2 and 1/2 years of his children’s lives. Two and a half years, first steps, first words, first smiles. He’d missed it all. Killian bowed his head, both hands covering his face, and Rose stared, stunned, when she saw the broad shoulders of the mafia boss tremble slightly. He wasn’t crying.

Killian Blackwood didn’t cry, but he was hurting. Hurting so badly his body couldn’t hide it. Uncle. A bright, clear voice cut through the weight in the room. Ethan had run over to Killian. A blue Tyrannosaurus clutched in his hand, his big eyes fixed on Killian with curiosity and worry. Uncle, are you okay? Are you sad? Do you like this one? It’s the strongest dinosaur.

 Mommy says it can protect you. Killian looked up at the child standing in front of him, his son, his blood, those green eyes identical to his, looking at him with a sincere concern few adults had ever offered him. His heart felt squeezed tight. Then another tiny hand slipped into his. Emma had come quietly to his side, her green eyes shining as she looked up at him.

 She didn’t say anything. She just stood there holding his hand, as if instinct told her this man needed comfort. Killian looked from Ethan to Emma, then to Rose, sitting across from him with reened eyes. And in that moment, the heart of the coldest mafia boss in New York broke and then stitched itself together in an entirely new way. He had children.

 He had [clears throat] a family. Late, painful, but still a chance. Killian bent down and gently took the Tyrannosaurus from Ethan’s hand. “Thank you,” he said, his voice thick. “I really like it.” Ethan’s smile flared like sunlight, and Killian felt something inside his chest turn warm.

 The days that followed passed like a whirlwind. Killian wouldn’t allow Rose to return to her cheap apartment in Brooklyn. He arranged a secure apartment for her and the children in a building he owned with strict security and Finn on watch 24 hours a day. Rose protested at first, saying she didn’t need his help, that she’d raised the children alone for nearly 3 years.

 But Killian didn’t give in. This isn’t about you, he said, his voice firm but not cold. This is about my children’s safety. You can hate me as much as you want, but I won’t let my children live in danger. Everyday, Killian came to visit. He brought new toys for the children, food from the best restaurants, picture books, and every kind of supply he thought they might need.

 He sat on the floor building blocks with Ethan, held Emma in his arms, and read stories to her. He learned how to change diapers, learned how to warm milk to the right temperature, learned all the things he’d missed in the last 2 and 1/2 years. Ethan grew attached to him quickly. The boy started calling him Uncle Kill with the effortless closeness children have, running to the door whenever he heard Killian arrive, showing him messy scribble drawings and demanding dinosaur games.

 Emma was quieter, but she always found a way to sit near him, to hold his hand, as if she could feel the invisible bond between them. Rose watched from a distance, her heart torn in two. She saw Killian with the children, saw a gentleness she never thought a mafia boss could possess, and she didn’t know what she was supposed to feel.

 Had she been right to protect them from his world, or had she been wrong to steal their chance to have a father? Meanwhile, Killian was doing something in secret he didn’t tell Rose about. He took a few strands of Ethan and Emma’s hair and sent them to the most reputable laboratory in the city for DNA testing. Not because he doubted Rose, the children’s green eyes were proof enough, but he needed an official confirmation, a legal document that proved they were his.

 When the results came back, Killian sat alone in his office. Staring at the paper that read, “Probability of biological relationship 99.99%.” His hand shook, and for the first time in many years, the coldest mafia boss in New York let a single tear slide down his cheek. A week had passed since the day Killian learned the truth about Ethan and Emma.

 Everything seemed to be settling. The children had grown used to the frequent presence of Uncle K, and Rose was starting to feel less tense each time she saw him, but the peace was only on the surface. Beneath that polished layer, a storm was forming, and Rose had no idea. That afternoon, Finn knocked on Killian’s office door with a face more serious than usual.

 He closed the door, making sure no one could hear, and delivered the bad news. Someone was watching Rose’s apartment, the security team had spotted a strange car parked near the building for 2 days straight, and when they tried to investigate, the car vanished as if it had never existed. Worse, their sources in the underworld, said Raymond Caruso, was digging into Killian.

 He’d heard whispers that the former waitress from the Black Rose had suddenly reappeared after 3 years of disappearance, and he wanted to know why Killian cared about her so much. Killian felt the blood in his body turned to ice. Raymond Caruso wasn’t the kind of man who got curious for nothing.

 If he was investigating, it meant he’d scented something. And if he discovered Ethan and Emma, if he learned Killian had two children the world knew nothing about, they’d become targets immediately. In the mafia world, nothing was more dangerous than exposing a weakness. And children were the deadliest weakness of all. Killian ordered Finn to double the protection around Rose’s apartment at once.

 More guards, more security cameras, tracking every unfamiliar vehicle within a radius of 1 km. But he told Finn not to let Rose find out. She’d endured too much already, and he didn’t want her carrying any more fear. He’d handled this threat himself, the way he’d handled everything for years.

 That night, Killian arrived later than usual. Ethan and Emma were asleep, their steady breathing drifting from the bedroom like a gentle lullabi. Rose opened the door for him, her brown eyes flickering with surprise at the severity on his face. But she didn’t ask. She’d learned that with Killian, silence was sometimes better than questions.

 He didn’t step inside right away. Instead, he motioned for her to come out onto the balcony. They stood there looking down at New York at night, glittering beneath them. Millions of lights shining like fallen stars scattered across the earth. The night wind was cold but not cruel, carrying the scent of the city. Exhaust and distant dreams that hadn’t yet come true.

 Rose shivered softly and Killian draped his coat over her shoulders without a word. They stood side by side in silence for a long time. Then Killian spoke, his voice low and steady, but with something unfamiliar in it, a gentleness Rose hadn’t heard from him before. He said he’d thought about a lot this past week. About the children, about her, about the future.

 He wanted to acknowledge Ethan and Emma as his legitimate children. To give them the Blackwood name, to give them every right and protection the heirs of his empire deserved. He wanted to guard them with everything he had. To give them the best life, the best opportunities, a future she couldn’t provide on her own.

 Rose listened, her heart beating faster with every word. She knew there was more. She could feel it in the way he hesitated, in the way his hand tightened on the balcony railing as if he were holding himself back. Then Killian turned to look at her, his deep green eyes meeting her brown ones in the glow of the city lights.

 He said that to do all of that, to protect her and the children in the best possible way, he needed her to become his wife. He wanted to marry her. Rose stood frozen, not sure she’d heard him correctly. She turned to look at Killian, her eyes wide with shock, and she blurted in a trembling voice. “What did you say?” Killian didn’t back away.

He held her stunned gaze, his green eyes steady and certain. He explained that this wasn’t a romantic proposal like something out of a movie. He wasn’t standing here telling her he loved her because he didn’t want to lie. They’d shared one night three and a half years ago, a night full of emotion, but not enough to call love.

 He didn’t know what love was. No one had ever taught him. He’d never experienced it, but he knew what responsibility was. He knew what it meant to protect. And he knew Ethan and Emma needed a whole family. Needed the kind of protection that only a legal name could provide in his world. Killian went on, his voice low and sincere in a way Rose couldn’t doubt.

 He said Rose needed protection, too. She didn’t understand how dangerous his world could be. How many enemies were waiting for a chance to strike at his weakness. If she was his wife, if she was Mrs. Blackwood. No one would dare touch her or the children. But if she was only the former waitress who had two children with a mafia boss.

 She would become an easy target for anyone who wanted to hurt him. And more than anything, he wanted to repair the two and a half years he’d been gone. He’d missed too much. The first steps, the first words, the sleepless nights when the children were sick, the hard mornings when she’d had to manage two newborns alone. He couldn’t turn back time, but he could make sure that from now on she would never have to be alone again.

 Marry me, Rose, Killian said, and it sounded like a plea instead of an order. Not for love, for our children. Tears spilled before Rose could stop them. She turned away, not wanting him to see her cry, but her shoulders shook uncontrollably. She said she couldn’t. Her voice was choked, broken, as if every word had to force its way past a stone lodged in her throat.

 She was afraid of being seen as a gold digger. She said she’d lived her whole life being looked down on, dismissed, judged, if she married him, if she became Mrs. Blackwood. What would people say? They would say she was an opportunist, that she’d gotten pregnant on purpose to trap him, that she was using children to climb into high society.

 She couldn’t bear those looks, those whispers, and she was afraid of his world. She’d run once out of fear because she’d seen him in the storage room that night. Because she understood violence and danger were inseparable from his life. She’d raised the children in peace for nearly 3 years. And now he was asking her to step into the very world she’d tried to escape.

 And she was afraid of his mother. Catherine Blackwood, the woman who’d called her a cheap waitress, would never accept her. Living under Catherine’s contempt, facing hatred every day, Rose didn’t know if she could survive it. Killian listened to each fear without interrupting, without arguing back. When she finished, he did something Rose never could have imagined.

 The most powerful mafia boss in New York, the man the entire underworld feared, slowly went down on one knee in front of her. He took her trembling hands in his, looked up at her with green eyes full of honest intent. “I’ll protect you from everything,” he said. his voice like a vow. From the gossip, from my world, from my mother.

 You won’t face anything alone anymore. I missed the first thousand sunrises of their lives. I refused to lose another single day. A soft knock at the door cut through the moment. Rose wiped her tears quickly and turned away while Killian stood and went to open it. Finn was there, his face as cold as ever, but his eyes holding a flicker of worry.

 He gave a brief report about security, about doubling the guards the way Killian had ordered. Killian nodded, gave a few instructions, then signaled for Rose to go inside and rest. She walked past them with eyes still red, looking at no one, and disappeared into the apartment as if she wanted to hide from everything. When she was gone behind the door, Finn looked at Killian with a strange expression.

 Then he spoke quietly, his voice unexpectedly soft. She’s good for you, boss. I’ve followed you for 15 years. I’ve never seen you like this. Killian didn’t answer. He only stared at the door Rose had just gone through. He knew Finn was right. Rose had changed something in him. Something he couldn’t explain. But he could feel it with painful clarity.

That night before Killian left, Rose came out and said she needed time. She couldn’t make a decision that big in one night. She needed to think, to weigh everything. Because this wasn’t only her life. It was Ethan and Emma’s future, too. Killian nodded and said he would wait. He’d waited 3 years to find her.

He could wait a few more days for her decision. Two days passed in a piece that wasn’t real. Rose spent the time thinking about Killian’s proposal, weighing every word he’d said, every fear that still lived inside her. She still hadn’t decided. But deep in her heart, she knew an answer was taking shape.

 She’d run once and paid for it with three years of loneliness with children who grew up without their father. She didn’t want to run again. On the morning of the third day, while Ethan and Emma were playing in the living room and Rose was in the kitchen putting lunch together, the doorbell rang. She assumed Killian had come earlier than usual.

 So, she opened the door without suspicion, but the person standing there wasn’t Killian. Catherine Blackwood stood in the doorway, still perfectly upright and proud, silver hair swept into an elegant bun. verdant eyes mirroring her sons, yet layered with a frost twice as thick. She wore an expensive designer outfit, a strand of pearls at her throat, and she looked at Rose the way you look at a disgusting insect that’s just crawled across the road. Rose froze, unsure how to react.

She’d never met Catherine face to face, not beyond catching sight of her in the restaurant 3 years earlier, but she recognized her instantly. Before Rose could speak, Catherine stepped past her and walked straight into the apartment as if she owned it. Her eyes swept the room.

 From the simple sofa to the small dining table, from the scattered children’s toys to the cheap painting on the wall, the contempt on her face wasn’t hidden. Then her gaze stopped on Ethan and Emma. The children had stopped playing, staring at the strange woman with wide, curious eyes. Catherine studied them for a long moment, and Rose saw the slightest shift in her expression when she took in the unmistakable Blackwood green in their faces.

 Impossible to deny, impossible to erase. Blood was blood. “What do you want?” Rose asked, her voice firmer than she expected. She’d been afraid of Catherine for 3 years, had run because of Catherine’s words. But now, standing in her own home with her children behind her, she wasn’t the weak girl she’d once been.

 Catherine turned to her with a cold smile. She said she had her own intelligence network, no less capable than her sons. When Killian suddenly assigned guards to protect an apartment, when he began disappearing every day to visit some secret place, she knew something important was happening, and she’d investigated. She knew everything about the birthday night three years earlier, about Rose running, about Rose giving birth to twins in Vermont under a false name, about Rose returning with two children carrying Blackwood blood.

She knew Killian had proposed, and she was here to stop it. Catherine opened her expensive handbag, took out a stack of documents, and placed them on the table. She said it was an agreement she was offering. $2 million would be transferred immediately into Rose’s account, plus a $5 million trust for Ethan and Emma’s education in the future.

 In exchange, Rose only needed to sign a contract, promising she would never marry Killian, keep everything quiet, and allow the children to be acknowledged as Killian’s illegitimate children [clears throat] rather than legitimate heirs.” Catherine continued, her voice as cold as ice. Killian had responsibilities to the Blackwood Empire, to the family, to the future.

 He needed a worthy wife at his side, a woman with background, with education, someone who could stand as his equal in high society, not a cheap waitress who used to clear tables in his own restaurant. Rose stayed silent through Catherine’s entire speech, her hands clenched at her sides, her heart pounding wildly.

 She looked at the documents on the table, at the figure of $7 million laid out as if it were the answer to everything, and she felt anger flare inside her, fiercer than anything she’d ever known. She stood, her brown eyes burning as she met Catherine’s stare headon. She stood, her eyes burning, not with the memory of her orphanhood, but with the raw defiance of a mother protecting her cubs.

 She had survived the streets in the shadows. She would not be silenced by a checkbook. She pointed to the door, unflinching under Catherine’s icy gaze. She said Killian had proposed, and she would accept, not for his money, not for his status, but because her children deserved a whole family. And if Catherine wanted to meet her grandchildren, she could start by respecting their mother.

Catherine rose, her face drained with rage. She looked at Rose with hatred and warned that she would do everything in her power to prove Rose unworthy of her son, unworthy of the Blackwood name, unworthy to step into their world. Then she turned and walked out, leaving behind the unsigned documents and a rose who was shaking, but unbroken.

 Right after Catherine left, Rose lifted the phone with trembling hands and called Killian. She told him everything from Catherine showing up without warning to the $7 million agreement to the threats Catherine delivered before she walked out. Rose’s voice was still shaking from the aftershock of anger and tension, but she didn’t cry.

 She’d cried enough in her life. On the other end, Killian was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was ice cold, filled with something lethal. He said he would go see his mother immediately. Tell her that no one had the right to treat Rose that way, not even his own mother. He would end this once and for all.

 But Rose stopped him. She said she understood Catherine’s fear. Catherine was a mother. She worried about her son, feared he would be used, feared the family empire would be affected. Those fears didn’t make Catherine’s actions right. But Rose could at least understand the motive. Confronting her in anger wouldn’t solve anything.

 It would only deepen the conflict and let the children be caught in the middle. Then Rose said something Killian didn’t expect. She said the meeting with Catherine had helped her decide. She’d run 3 years earlier out of fear because of words exactly like the ones Catherine had used today, and she’d paid for it with nearly 3 years in which her children had no father.

 She didn’t want to repeat that mistake. She wouldn’t let fear control her life anymore. She would marry him. A month later, they stood in Manhattan City Hall in front of a stern-faced officient. There was no expensive wedding dress. Rose wore only a simple white dress she’d bought from an ordinary store. There was no customtailored tux.

 Killian wore one of his usual black suits. There were no hundreds of guests, no lavish flowers, no band, no extravagant reception, only them. Finn standing as the witness with his face as cold as ever, but a hint of warmth in his eyes. and Ethan and Emma playing at their feet, not understanding the importance of what was happening.

 As the officient read the vows, Rose felt her heart beating so fast she thought it might burst. She looked at Killian into the green eyes, watching her with a sincerity she’d never seen before, and she knew she’d made the right choice. This wasn’t a fairy tale wedding. It wasn’t the kind of romantic love you see in movies, but it was real.

 Two people making a promise for their children’s future, and maybe, just maybe, for something more than that. When it was time for the rings, Killian took out a diamond ring that was simple but exquisitly made and slid it onto Rose’s finger. His hand trembled slightly, something Rose was sure very few people had ever witnessed in the coldest mafia boss in New York.

 Then she put a ring on his finger, a plain white gold band they’d chosen together. When the officient declared them husband and wife and told the groom he could kiss the bride, Killian turned to Rose. He looked at her for a moment as if asking permission, then slowly bent down and pressed his mouth to hers. It was their first kiss since that birthday night 3 years earlier.

 The first kiss when both of them were sober and fully aware of what they were doing. It was gentle, hesitant, more a question than a claim. But something shifted in that moment. Rose felt it, and she knew Killian felt it, too. An invisible thread bound them now. Not only on paper, but deep inside the heart.

 They stepped out of city hall under the afternoon sun. Ethan holding Killian’s hand. Emma in Rose’s arms. They looked like an ordinary family, simple and happy, but they didn’t realize someone was standing on the opposite corner with a phone camera raised, capturing the moment they came down the steps. That night, the picture began to spread through the underworld.

Killian Blackwood married in secret at city hall. The bride was the former waitress from the black rose. Two twin children stood beside them. The rumor exploded like fire in the wind, and everything was about to become far more complicated. The rumor spread like wildfire through New York’s underworld. Boss Blackwood married his former waitress, and she has two kids.

 The story grew more embroidered every time it passed from one mouth to another. People said Rose was a trap setter, that she’d gotten pregnant on purpose to latch on to a rich family. People said Killian had lost his mind, letting a nobody stain the noble Blackwood bloodline. They whispered, they laughed, and they placed bets on how long this marriage would last before Killian came to his senses.

 Catherine Blackwood heard, and she cut off all contact with her son completely. She didn’t take his calls. She didn’t answer his messages. She refused every request to meet. Her silence was more frightening than any scolding because it said she saw Killian’s choice as an unforgivable betrayal. But the person most pleased by the news was Raymond Caruso.

He sat in his luxurious office, staring at the photo of Killian and Rose stepping out of city hall, and a satisfied smile spread across his mouth. For years, he’d searched for Killian Blackwood’s weakness and found nothing. That man had been a fortress, cold, ruthless, with nothing to lose. But now he had a wife and children.

 Now he had a weakness. Three days after the wedding, Killian summoned a meeting with his key allies within his empire. They sat around a long table in a private conference room inside a hotel owned by the Blackwood family. The most powerful faces in New York’s underworld, the men who had helped his father build this empire and remained loyal under Killian’s leadership.

 Or at least they once had been loyal. Now Rose could feel the doubt in their eyes when Killian entered the room. Killian stood at the head of the table, his green eyes sweeping across every face. He didn’t circle the point. He didn’t explain. He didn’t apologize. He stated that he’d married Rosalie Bennett, now Rosalie Blackwood.

 They had two children, Ethan and Emma. His blood, the future heirs of the Blackwood Empire. Anyone who had a problem with that could speak now. A heavy silence fell over the room. Glances exchanged, whispers swallowed. Then a man seated in the middle. Marco Benedetti, a longtime ally with a sneering expression, spoke up. He gave a short, mocking laugh and said he’d never thought Killian could be led around so easily by a cheap waitress.

 He added that she must be very good in bed to make their clear-headed boss lose his mind. The room went still. Everyone looked at Killian, waiting, and the reaction came faster than anyone expected. Killian walked to Marco with slow steps that carried a promise of violence. He stopped right beside him and looked down with eyes as stony and unforgiving as marble.

 When he spoke, his voice was low and even, not loud, but clear enough for every man in the room to hear each word. He said anyone who didn’t respect his wife didn’t respect him, and everyone in that room knew what happened to people who didn’t respect him. Marco’s face went pale. He opened his mouth, maybe to apologize, but Killian had already turned away and returned to the head of the table.

 He didn’t need an apology. He only needed to make sure everyone understood the line. And from the frightened silence that followed, he knew they did. Meanwhile, Rose sat alone in the apartment. Ethan and Emma were napping in the bedroom. She held her phone and scrolled through messages and comments on social media that someone had screenshotted and sent to her.

 Poisoned words, merciless judgment, insults aimed at a woman they’d never even met. Gold digger. She got herself knocked up on purpose to hook a rich man. Cheap trash with no shame. Rose read every line, but she didn’t cry. The venomous words online were nothing new. Her soul had long ago been tempered by the neglect of foster homes and the cold indifference of the streets.

 When Killian came home that evening, he found Rose sitting on the sofa, staring out the window with a far away look. He sat down beside her. He didn’t speak. He just waited. After a while, Rose turned to him,” she asked softly, but with worry threaded through her voice. “If he regretted it, he’d heard what they were saying about her.

He’d seen the way they looked at him when they learned he’d married a waitress. His empire, his reputation, everything was being affected because of her. Did he regret this decision?” Killian looked at her for a long moment, his green eyes holding something Rose couldn’t name. Then he pulled her into his arms, held her tight, and whispered only two words into her ear. Never.

After the wedding, Rose and the children moved in with Killian at the Manhattan penthouse. The first days were awkward and distant. They slept in separate rooms. Rose in the secluded guest suite in the West Wing, while Killian stayed in the master bedroom. This was a marriage for the children, not for love.

 And both of them tried to keep a careful distance. As if distance itself could remind them of what this relationship truly was. But living under one roof has its own way of blurring borders. Rose began to cook in the modern kitchen Killian had never really used before. She made simple dishes, recipes she’d learned during the years she’d worked as a kitchen assistant.

 And Killian discovered, to his surprise, that she cooked astonishingly well. He, a man who’d eaten in the most expensive restaurants in the world, found himself looking forward to Rose’s home-cooked meals more than any lavish banquet. They began feeding the children together. Killian sat beside Ethan, patiently, offering spoon after spoon to a boy who was always fidgeting, while Rose fed Emma at the other end of the table.

 They began reading to the children together before bed. Killian in his low, warm voice, read stories about princes and princesses, about dragons and knights, and Rose sat nearby, watching the scene with a heart so full it achd. One afternoon, Rose passed through the living room and found Killian on the floor with Ethan.

 Father and son bent over a complicated dinosaur model kit. Ethan kept making mistakes, pieces scattering everywhere. But Killian didn’t show a trace of irritation. He guided the boy step by step, picked up the fallen pieces, encouraged him when he started to get discouraged. Rose stood there, watching the coldest mafia boss in New York turn into a gentle father, and she felt something shift inside her chest.

 Killian began to see Rose differently, too. One night, he woke at 2:00 in the morning and noticed the living room light was still on. He stepped out and found Rose curled on the sofa, reading a thick book. When he came closer, he realized it was a book about restaurant business management. Rose looked embarrassed at being caught, but Killian didn’t mock her.

 He sat down and asked what she was reading. Rose began sharing her ideas about expanding his restaurant chain, about improving the menu, about marketing strategies aimed at younger customers. Killian listened, and he was surprised to realize she was far smarter than he’d assumed. Her ideas weren’t fanciful at all.

 They were practical, grounded, and they showed she’d been watching and thinking for a long time during her years at the Black Rose. Killian’s bond with the children grew deeper every day. One evening, while Killian was reading to Ethan, the boy suddenly looked up and called him by a word no one had ever called him before.

 “Dad,” Killian went perfectly still, his heart tightening as if it had been squeezed. He looked down at his son, those green eyes so much like his own, and he couldn’t find any words. He only nodded, pulled the boy into his arms, and tried to hold back the emotion rising in him. Emma showed her affection in a different way.

 She was stubborn but tender, always finding a way to sit beside Killian to hold his hand. And every time he had to leave for work, she wrapped her arms around his neck and didn’t want to let go. “Stay home with me, daddy,” she whispered. And Killian found himself wanting to cancel every meeting just to stay with his daughter. But the moment that changed everything came late one night when Ethan suddenly spiked a high fever.

 Rose discovered he was burning when she checked on him after midnight and panic hit her immediately. She called the doctor, pressed a cool cloth to his forehead, gave him fever medicine, and sat by his bed all night without closing her eyes. Around 3:00 in the morning, Killian woke and sensed the apartment was unusually quiet.

 He stepped out of his room and saw the children’s bedroom light was still on. When he pushed the door open, he found Rose sitting beside Ethan’s bed, her eyes red from exhaustion and fear, her hand continually replacing the damp cloth on her son’s forehead. She looked worn out, frightened, and heartbreakingly alone. Killian didn’t speak.

 He simply sat down beside her, took her trembling hand in his, and stayed. They remained awake until morning, taking turns with the cloth, checking Ethan’s temperature hour by hour, waiting in a silence heavy with worry. When the first light of dawn began to slip through the curtains and Ethan’s fever finally broke, Rose seemed to collapse.

 She started to cry, tears of relief sliding down her cheeks, her body shaking with exhaustion and with the fear that had just passed. Killian pulled her into his arms, held her tight, and let her cry against his shoulder. And in that moment, holding the woman who had fought alone through every hardship for three years, the woman who loved her children with every sacrifice, Killian realized a truth he could no longer deny.

 He had fallen in love with her somehow, without him noticing when it began. Love had slipped into his cold heart, turning a marriage of responsibility into something real and deep. That afternoon was an ordinary day, like so many others. Rose took Ethan and Emma to the park near home, the way she always did when the weather was nice.

 Two guards Killian had assigned stayed with them, one walking beside her and the other following at a careful distance. Finn was somewhere nearby, too. Rose knew he was always watching from afar, even when she couldn’t see him. She’d grown used to this protected life, used to never truly being alone, and she tried not to let it steal the children’s joy.

 Ethan and Emma ran across the grass, their clear laughter ringing through the green open space. Rose sat on a stone bench, smiling at them, her heart full of simple happiness. She didn’t notice the black van rolling slowly toward the park entrance. She didn’t notice shadows moving in the bushes around them. Everything happened too fast.

 A group of four masked men appeared from different directions all at once. Two of them charged straight toward Emma. Another blocked the guard walking near Rose, and the fourth seized Rose’s hand and yanked her off the bench. Rose screamed, her mother’s instinct exploding, and she tore free from the attacker’s grip and lunged toward her daughter.

 Ethan stood frozen, green eyes wide with fear, not understanding what was happening. Emma shrieked when a stranger’s hand clamped around her small arm. Rose ran, ran faster than she’d ever run in her life, but she knew she wouldn’t make it in time. Then Finn appeared. He burst out from somewhere like a storm, slamming into the man, trying to drag Emma away.

They crashed to the ground and in that split second of chaos, Emma was released. Rose threw herself forward, snatched her daughter into her arms, then pulled Ethan tight against her. She held both children close, shielding them with her body, trembling like a leaf in a gale. Around her came the sounds of violence, fists landing, men shouting, feet pounding.

 Her guard was injured, blood on his face, but he was still fighting. Finn had taken down two of them, and when the others saw the tide turn, they bolted for the black van. The engine roared and they were gone in an instant, leaving behind a park in chaos. People screaming and children crying. Rose didn’t know how much time passed.

She only knew she couldn’t let go of Ethan and Emma. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t do anything except protect them with every part of herself. Then she heard her name. Killian’s voice cracked with panic and fear. He ran to her, dropped to his knees, and gathered all three of them into his arms. His hands were shaking, and for the first time, Rose saw real fear in the green eyes that were usually cold and controlled.

 The most powerful mafia boss in New York was trembling at the thought of losing his wife and children. Killian took Rose and the children back to the penthouse, left them under Finn’s protection with orders that no one was to move an inch. Then he left. Rose knew where he was going, and she didn’t try to stop him.

 She understood that in his world, some things were handled in their own way. Killian went to Raymond Caruso’s territory alone, despite Finn’s fierce objections. He walked into his enemy’s den with empty hands, a black suit like midnight, and green eyes burning with fury. Raymond was sitting in his office, a smug smile on his lips when he saw Killian walk in.

 He motioned for his guards to stand back, confident Blackwood wouldn’t dare do anything on Caruso ground. Killian stopped a few steps away, his voice ice cold as he said Raymond had touched his wife and children and he would die for it. Raymond laughed loudly, the sound echoing off the walls. He said love was weakness, Blackwood, and he’d found Killian’s weakness.

 He said Killian used to be an untouchable fortress, but now he had a wife and children. Now he had something to lose, and Raymond would use that to crush him. Killian didn’t flinch. He looked Raymond straight in the eye and said love meant he had a reason to burn the whole world down and Raymond had just lit the match. He said Raymond had made the biggest mistake of his life and Killian would make him pay.

Not today, maybe not tomorrow, but he would pay. Then Killian turned and walked out, leaving Raymond with a smile that slowly died on his lips. When Killian came home, Rose was waiting in the living room. The children were asleep in their room with Finn standing guard outside the door. Rose stood when she saw him, her brown eyes full of worry, but also full of resolve.

 She told him she was scared, more scared than she’d ever been in her life when she saw them trying to take Emma. She’d run once out of fear, had believed leaving him would protect her children. But now she understood running wasn’t the answer. She said she wasn’t running anymore, that this was her family, and she would stay and fight beside him.

Killian looked at her, his heart flooded with something he didn’t have words for. He pulled her into his arms, kissed her forehead, and promised he would end it. Raymond Caruso would pay for what he’d done today. In the weeks that followed, Killian began to make good on his promise.

 But he didn’t kill Raymond Caruso because that would have been too easy, too quick, and it would have dragged everyone into a bloody war he didn’t want his wife and children to witness. Instead, he destroyed Raymond’s empire from the inside, piece by piece, slowly, and with a cruelty sharper than any bullet. Killian used his network to isolate Raymond.

 One by one, Raymon’s allies and partners turned their backs after receiving advice from the Blackwood Empire. The underground banks where Raymond kept his money suddenly froze his accounts for technical reasons. Smuggling routes were cut off. Businesses collapsed into bankruptcy. Loyal lieutenants were bought off or disappeared.

 And as a finishing blow, Killian sent a thick file to the FBI detailing every illegal operation Raymond Caruso ran. From arms trafficking to moneyaundering, from bribery to murder. Raymon never knew who had betrayed him. But within 2 months, the empire he’d built for 20 years, collapsed completely. Raymon Caruso, the one-time mafia boss who’d made all of New York tremble, had to flee the city like a beggar.

 With no money, no power, and no one left on his side. The threat was over and Rose could finally breathe again. Eight months after the wedding, the small family’s first Christmas arrived in New York’s biting chill. The penthouse was dressed in splendor, a tall tree, blinking lights, and bright wrapped gifts stacked beneath the branches.

 Ethan and Emma ran everywhere, giddy with the waiting, and Rose felt happier than any Christmas she’d ever lived through. But something was still unfinished. A wound that hadn’t healed inside this family. Catherine Blackwood still hadn’t spoken to her son since the wedding day. She kept her cold silence, refused every invitation, refused to acknowledge Rose and the children at all.

 And Killian, no matter how strong he was, was still a son, still hungry for his mother’s acceptance. So he decided to invite Catherine to the penthouse on Christmas night. Not to confront her, not to argue, but to give her a chance to see the family he’d built. Rose was nervous when she heard, but she didn’t object. She understood that no matter how Catherine treated her, she was still Ethan and Emma’s grandmother, and the children deserved to know her.

 Catherine arrived at 7:00, her face as cold as ever, her eyes sweeping the penthouse with guarded caution. She wore an elegant black outfit, pearls at her throat, her posture still proud and distant, unchanged, the air tightened at once. Rose and Catherine exchanged a polite nod and nothing more. Killian stood between the two women, his expression drawn tight as wire. Then Emma ran over.

The three-year-old girl with brown hair and big green eyes dashed straight toward Catherine, clutching a crumpled sheet of paper. “Grandma,” she called, her bright voice ringing through the room. “I drew this for you.” Catherine went still, not knowing how to respond. Emma held up the picture, and Catherine looked down.

 It was a child’s scribbly drawing, stick figures with oversized round heads, but Rose could see what it meant. a tall man, a woman beside him, two small children, and a silver-haired woman standing with them, a family. Emma had drawn her grandmother into her family picture, even though she’d never met her. Catherine stared at the drawing, and Rose saw something shift on her face. The ice began to melt.

 The green eyes that matched her sons began to shine with tears. Then, Ethan ran over, wrapped his arms around Catherine’s leg, and looked up with a grin as bright as daylight. Grandma, do you have candy?” he asked, not knowing anything about adult grudges. Catherine looked down at her grandson, at those unmistakable Blackwood green eyes and that small face, and she cried.

 Not loud sobs, just quiet tears sliding down her cheeks. But it was the first time Rose had ever seen her show real feeling. Rose stood, walked over slowly, and sat down beside Catherine on the sofa. She said she understood Catherine’s fear, understood why she’d fought this marriage. Catherine was a mother, afraid her son would be used, afraid the family empire would be damaged, afraid a strange woman would harm what she and her husband had spent a lifetime building.

 Rose wasn’t the woman Catherine had wanted for Killian. And Rose knew that. But she loved him. Truly loved him. Not for money or power, but for who he was. And she wanted to build a bridge, not a wall. Catherine was silent for a long time, looking at the drawing in her hands, looking at Ethan and Emma playing at her feet, looking at Killian standing by the window with hope and worry written across his face.

 Then she spoke, her voice trembling. She admitted she’d been wrong. She’d let fear control her, let prejudice blind her. But seeing her son with Rose and the children, she saw something she’d never seen before. Real happiness. She asked to be forgiven. Rose smiled and took Catherine’s hand. And on that Christmas night, the Blackwood family began to mend.

 Three years had passed since the secret wedding at city hall, and the Blackwood family’s life had changed in ways no one could have imagined. Ethan and Emma were 5 and a half now, healthy and bursting with energy, their green eyes shining every time they laughed. Ethan still loved dinosaurs the way he always had, but now he’d added a passion for superhero stories, and he was always bragging that his dad was the strongest man in the world.

 Emma was gentler and more thoughtful, a little girl who loved drawing and baking with her mother, always trailing after Rose like an adorable little shadow. The Blackwood Empire had gone through a major transformation, too. Under Rose’s influence, Killian gradually shifted the family’s operations onto a legal path. The underground channels were narrowed.

The shadowy work was cut back, and in its place came the expansion of the restaurant chain, hotels, and real estate projects. It didn’t happen overnight, but step by step, the Blackwood Empire was becoming a real business conglomerate. No longer forced to rely on darkness to survive. Rose found her own mission.

 She founded a charity dedicated to helping orphans and children abused within the foster care system. She knew their pain too well because she’d once been one of them. She used her wounded past as strength, as fuel, determined to make sure other children wouldn’t have to endure what she had. Her organization helped hundreds of children find loving families.

 And Rose finally felt her life had meaning. Catherine Blackwood changed completely. She was no longer the cold, proud woman she’d once been, but a devoted, loving grandmother. She often came to pick Ethan and Emma up for outings, taking them to the zoo, to amusement parks, buying them every kind of toy and expensive clothing. She taught Emma the Blackwood family’s old baking recipes, and she patiently listened to Ethan talk about dinosaurs with a delight that wasn’t forced at all.

 The relationship between her and Rose grew warmer, too. Not quite mother and daughter, but something real, built on respect and sincere affection. Finn remained Killian’s trusted right hand, but inside this small family, he had another role. Ethan and Emma called him Uncle Finn. And he, the quiet, hard-faced man, softened in a strange way around the children.

 He taught Ethan how to throw a ball, carried Emma on his shoulders when she got tired, and he was there for every birthday party, every school performance, every moment that mattered. One spring night, 3 years after that first wedding, Killian and Rose stood on the penthouse balcony, looking down at New York, glittering beneath them the way they’d done countless times.

 The children were asleep, the apartment was quiet, and the air was filled with a piece they both treasured. Then Killian did something that left Rose completely stunned. He turned to her, slowly went down on one knee, and pulled out a red velvet box. Inside was a diamond ring, dazzling, more beautiful than anything Rose had ever seen.

Killian said that 3 years ago he’d proposed for the children, for responsibility, to protect her and the kids. But today he was proposing because he loved her truly deeply with his whole heart, a heart he hadn’t even known he had. He wanted to marry her again, not at city hall with two witnesses, but in a real wedding, so the whole world would know how much she mattered to him.

 He asked if she’d say yes. Rose cried, tears of happiness spilling down her cheeks. She nodded and said only one word. Yes. 6 months later, the second wedding was held at the Blackwood estate where Catherine lived. The wide garden was dressed in white flowers and glowing lights, and hundreds of guests sat waiting for the bride.

 But this time, they weren’t underworld allies or flattering politicians. These were real friends, people from Rose’s charity, honest business partners, and those who truly cared about their family. Ethan and Emma served as the little ring bearer and flower girl, the boy in a tiny suit, and the girl in a princess pink dress.

 Both of them so serious it was adorable. As they walked down the aisle, Catherine sat in the front row, and when Rose appeared in her pure white wedding gown, Catherine cried. Killian and Rose exchanged vows they’d written themselves, promises spoken straight from the heart. Rose vowed she would stay beside him in darkness and in light, in hardship and in happiness.

Killian vowed he would love her more each day than the day before, protect her and the children with his life, become the man she deserved. That night, after the guests had gone home and the children were asleep upstairs, Killian and Rose stood on the estate balcony under a sky full of stars. Rose rested her head on her husband’s shoulder and whispered that sometimes she still couldn’t believe it was real.

 The orphan girl, the former waitress, now Mrs. Blackwood with a husband who loved her. Healthy children, a life she’d never even dared to dream. Killian kissed her forehead and told her she wasn’t Mrs. Blackwood because she married him. She was Mrs. Blackwood because she chose to stay when she could have left, chose to fight when she could have surrendered, chose to love when she could have been afraid.

 That was what made her worthy of the name. And in the quiet New York night, the coldest mafia boss in the city held his wife, once a waitress, in his arms, knowing that the green eyes of the two children asleep in the next room were the greatest miracle of his life. The secret he’d stumbled upon in Central Park that day changed everything.

 It turned a lonely kingpin into a devoted husband, a loving father, and it gave an orphaned girl the family she’d never dared to dream of. Sometimes the most painful secrets bring the most unexpected blessings. And sometimes it takes the courage of two children with green eyes for two adults to finally see that they were meant to be a family from the very beginning.

 This story teaches us that true love doesn’t divide people by wealth or poverty, and it doesn’t care about background or status. It reminds us that the hardest decisions can lead to the most beautiful outcomes. And that family isn’t built by blood alone, but by love, sacrifice, and the courage to stay when you could walk away.