The Mafia Boss Thought His Secretary Betrayed Him — Until He Found Her Scrubbing Diner Floors To Pay A Debt His Empire Created

PART 8

On Monday morning, Wren arrived at seven forty-five, unchanged to anyone else’s eyes. Owen Petrucci lowered his newspaper and rose. “Morning, Wren.” His tone carried a respect she had not heard before.

She prepared Weston’s espresso and entered his office at eight. He ended a call when she placed the tray on his desk.

“Did you sleep?” The question violated three years of professional distance.

“Seven hours.”

“Mr. Kade, regarding what happened—”

“You now have independent audit authority over every civilian-facing revenue operation. No manager may deny you records.”

“You are rewarding me for being compromised?”

“I am correcting a structural weakness. You identified it by surviving it.”

He slid a folder across the desk — a lease for an apartment in the secured building beneath his penthouse.

“You already prepared this?”

“Your current building has no controlled entry, no cameras in the stairwell.”

“This is a cage.”

Weston tore the lease in half. “You are right. I chose the building without asking. That was not protection. It was control disguised as concern. You choose where you live.”

“Thank you.”

He rested one knuckle lightly against her cheek. “I do not build cages for people I care about. Apparently, I still need to learn the difference between a fortress and a locked door.”