A maid hid her baby in a billionaire’s penthouse for three months, until the infant crawled into his office and grabbed his tie.

Night fell across Chicago, casting long, dramatic shadows across the white marble floors of the penthouse. The bright natural daylight that had flooded the hallway during the afternoon gave way to the soft, warm illumination of recessed floor LEDs and the golden flicker of the gas fireplace in the living room.

Elena stepped out of the master suite, holding a clean glass bottle.

She had changed out of her faded yellow housekeeping uniform. In its place, she wore a simple, comfortable dark grey cashmere sweater and black trousers that Marco’s team had brought up from a high-end boutique downstairs. Her long brown hair was down, cascading over her shoulders in soft waves, revealing her fine, delicate features.

She walked quietly down the long hallway toward the gourmet kitchen, her socks making no sound against the marble.

As she passed the open doors of the private office, she saw Alessandro standing near his desk. He was still wearing his tailored black suit trousers and dark vest, his sleeves rolled up, his dark wavy hair slightly disheveled as he reviewed a stack of encrypted security reports.

Elena paused at the doorway, holding the baby bottle against her hip.

Alessandro didn't look up from his papers, but his sharp instincts immediately registered her presence.

"Mia is sleeping?" Alessandro asked, his deep baritone cutting through the quiet hum of the penthouse.

"Yes," Elena answered softly, stepping into the warm light of the office. "She fell asleep right after the pediatrician finished the checkup. The doctor said she’s completely healthy... just a little light on weight."

"She will gain weight here," Alessandro said, setting the papers down on his desk and turning his dark eyes toward her. "My private chefs will handle all her meals starting tomorrow morning. Organic, custom nutrition."

Elena offered a faint, tired smile. "Mr. Duca... you don't have to do all of this. You're treating us like royalty, but twenty-four hours ago I was scrubbing your floorboards."

Alessandro walked around his desk, stopping four feet away from her. The height difference between them was staggering—his broad, muscular frame dwarfed her slender figure, yet his posture carried no threat toward her.

"Twenty-four hours ago, I didn't know my brother’s blood was running through this house," Alessandro said, his voice quiet and intense. "You raised his daughter alone in hiding for eight months while working sixteen-hour shifts. You protected her when no one else was there to help you."