Cecilia suddenly found herself wrapped in Bruno's arms, his bare skin pressing against hers, and she froze like a deer in the headlights.

"What the heck?! I'm not your wife! Let me go!"

Bruno didn't loosen his grip; if anything, he tightened it, his hand slipping under the edge of her pajamas.

"Cut the crap," he warned. "I'll ask you one more time—who am I?!"

Pinned against him, Cecilia trembled, a mix of fear and humiliation burning through her. She realized she couldn't keep making things up.

"I swear, I have no idea! Last night, you were hurt on the side of the road. You promised me five hundred grand to help you, so I brought you home!"

"Then why did your kid call me 'Daddy'?"

"His dad died three years ago. I told him his daddy was overseas for work and would be back soon. He's never even seen a photo, so he got confused!"

"What else did I say yesterday?"

"You kept saying no one could know where you were, and then you blacked out! That's it, I swear!"

Bruno glanced down at the stab wound in his side, then at her flushed, trembling face. She didn't look like she was lying. He let her go.

Cecilia stumbled back a few steps, glaring at him. "I don't want your damn money. Just get the hell out of my house!"

The money was tempting, but her son's safety—and her own—came first.

The struggle had Bruno's wound bleeding again, cold sweat beading on his forehead from the pain. The mysterious knife injuries, along with his urgent instructions to Cecilia, told him one thing: stepping outside could put him right back in danger.

His tone softened a fraction, though it held no warmth. "I need to lie low here for a few days. I'll get you your half a million one way or another."

Cecilia wasn't stupid enough to fall for that again. A man with no money and no clue who he was? How the hell was he gonna make good on that promise? And he was terrifying—the thought of living under the same roof with him scared her half to death!

She was about to refuse when his icy glare sent a chill racing down her spine, killing the words in her throat.

"Where are my things?" Bruno asked.

Reluctantly, she handed over a treasured ring. "Aside from your clothes, just this. But you gave it to me, remember? You wouldn't want it back, would you?"

Bruno turned the ring over, spotting the 'RY' engraved inside. He mulled it over, but nothing clicked.

At last, he handed it back to her—a fiercely contested heirloom from the Ryan family, though he had no idea. "Looks valuable. Take good care of me these next few days."

Cecilia breathed a little easier—at least she hadn't lost it all. Catching the engraving, she frowned. "So your last name is Ryan?"

Hearing the odd note in her voice, Bruno asked, "Got a problem with the Ryans?"

Something dark flashed in her eyes. "That's none of your business," she said coolly.

Clutching the ring, she left the room. To keep up the illusion that Santos's father was still around, she kept some men's toiletries and clothes at home, which she now offered to Bruno.

Bruno, however, had no strength left. "I can't... handle it. Can you help?"

She noted he at least asked nicely.

Cecilia's eyes flicked to his bare, sculpted chest for a moment, her cheeks heating. Steeling herself, she moved to help him dress.

The shirt went on easily, but the pants were a battle. Trying to make it less awkward, she straddled his legs and bent close.

"Lift your hips a little," she said.

He did, straining to lift himself up, arms braced against the bed. With Cecilia leaning forward and Bruno arching upward, the situation was undeniably suggestive.

The indecent image that popped into her head made her cheeks burn, her ears going red.

Bruno caught her embarrassment right away. A 'lonely widow'... he thought wryly, frowning. After three years, who wouldn't be a little... frustrated?

A sharp pain ripped through his abdomen. His arms buckled, and he collapsed onto the bed, unable to hold the pose. With his pants still undone, Cecilia tumbled right on top of him!

"Ugh—ah—" Bruno groaned, his face twisting in pain. "Get... off!" he bit out.

Cecilia's face turned tomato-red.

"Ah... I can't move... My back seized up—probably from hauling you around last night..."

Her job involved driving deliveries and unloading, which had done a number on her back.

Bruno half-suspected she was exaggerating, the 'lonely widow' thought still in his head, but he didn't have the strength to shove her off.

Mortified, Cecilia squirmed on top of him, trying to scramble off.

"...Just hang on, I'm almost—almost there..."

Her sluggish movements only made his pain worse, and he groaned even louder.

One battling a bad back, the other suffering from a wound—the two of them were trapped in a mess, panting hard.

Cecilia finally managed to sit up, still straddling Bruno's lap, when a sudden cry from outside snapped her head around.

"Cecilia, I'm here to pick up— Oh my goodness, what in the—! Good heavens!"

It was Kahlani, the neighbor, who shrieked and fled. Cecilia often left Santos with her while she worked. Hearing noises, Kahlani's curiosity got the better of her, and she'd peeked inside.

The sight was downright scandalous! A man with his pants around his ankles and Cecilia on top of him, both slick with sweat and breathless...

In her sixty-plus years, Kahlani had seen plenty—and she drew her conclusion fast: a daytime romp!

"Cecilia! It's not what you think!" Cecilia Dunn rushed to explain, wincing as she scrambled out of bed to catch up with her neighbor.

"Hold on!" Bruno Ryan called after her. "Remember, keep my identity under wraps—don't blow it!"

Cecilia nodded quickly, one hand bracing her lower back as she hobbled toward the next-door apartment. "I'll just tell her you're my cousin visiting from out of town."

"Kahlani, he's just—" Cecilia started, but Kahlani cut her off with a knowing smile. "Santos already told me—that's his dad!"

Cecilia's eyes went wide. She spun toward Santos. "You little rascal—"

Kahlani's gaze flicked to Cecilia's hand on her back, and she gave a kind laugh. "It's normal for couples to fight and separate for a while. But with a kid this young, you two should really try to work it out."

Cecilia realized she had to roll with it. "Oh, we didn't fight. He just works out of town and doesn't get home much."

Thinking on her feet, she spun a few more tales about Santos's dad, painting the perfect picture of Bruno's made-up backstory until Kahlani was completely sold.

Back home, Bruno asked, "She buy it?"

Cecilia shook her head, a little apologetic. "Looks like you're gonna have to play Santos's dad for a few days."

Bruno frowned. "Weren't we going with the cousin story?"

Cecilia hadn't expected things to snowball like this. "Santos was running his mouth, and Kahlani jumped to conclusions. There was no way I could set it straight!"

Bruno's brow furrowed. Trying to explain now would only raise more questions about his real identity. For now, playing the stand-in husband to a widow seemed like the safest cover.

But the kid already seemed way too attached.

"I'm not a kid person. Keep your son out of my hair!" he insisted.

Cecilia had originally planned to hire someone to act as Santos's dad for his birthday. But with Bruno conveniently here, it was too good an opportunity to pass up.

"No way! If Santos likes you, you be nice to him! You make him cry, I swear I'll throw you out and let those guys chasing you do whatever they want!"

For the first time, someone dared threaten Bruno like that. Even with amnesia, his natural pride flared, the urge to snap back almost overwhelming. But with his injuries, just standing was a struggle.

Helpless, he grudgingly agreed. "Fine. Let me recover here, and I'll play dad."

The two became unlikely allies.

Keeping her word, Cecilia made a hearty bowl of ravioli and set it beside Bruno's bed. He stared at it, brow furrowing.

"What, not your style?" she teased. "This is as good as it gets around here. You want something better? Then maybe remember your bank password and pay me back that five hundred grand!"

Bruno's face twisted with a mix of unease and embarrassment. "It's not that. I just... I need to use the bathroom..."

She pointed. "Over there."

His face flushed. "Can't move. I need a hand."

Understanding his condition, Cecilia resigned herself to helping. She discreetly supported his arm as he shuffled toward the bathroom.

He managed to grip the wall for balance while Cecilia waited outside, exhausted.

"I'll get you a bedpan later," she joked.

"No way!" Bruno shot back, indignant. Raised in luxury, dignity was ingrained. Already having to rely on her just to take a piss was humiliating enough.

But Cecilia, practical as ever, wasn't moved. "If you even think about messing up that bed, you'll regret it."

Stripped of power and pride, Bruno was completely at her mercy. The once-mighty Mr. Ryan had no choice but to suffer in silence.

Afterward, they sat down to eat. Cecilia couldn't help asking, "You seriously don't remember anything?"

Bruno shook his head.

Cecilia clung to a shred of hope. "Maybe it's the head injury. You might get your memory back soon."

Bruno nodded, though his tone was indifferent. "Here's hoping."

Curious, he asked, "Tell me about yourself."

Cecilia gave a quick rundown. "I'm Cecilia Dunn, from some small town. I drive a delivery truck, barely scraping by. My son Santos—his dad died before he was born."

"Do you have to work today?" Bruno asked.

Cecilia replied dryly, "Thanks to you, my back's shot. No driving for me today."

Bruno looked a little surprised. "You actually hurt yourself?" He'd half-suspected she was playing it up to guilt-trip him.

Cecilia waved off his doubt. "I don't have time for games, not with a kid to raise and now you to look after. Just focus on getting better, remembering your life, and having your family come get you—along with my five hundred grand."

Bruno nodded in agreement but remained silent.

After breakfast, Cecilia called Santos over. "Your dad's not feeling well. Stay out of his way."

Santos contented himself with peeking through the door at Bruno.

Bruno, noticing the curious eyes, frowned deeply in disapproval.

Meanwhile, Cecilia was tidying up when she spotted the pearl earring from the night before, her frown deepening.

"Santos, come here," she called.

The little boy toddled over. Cecilia held up the earring. "How many times have I told you not to mess with my jewelry? Especially this one!"

Santos looked genuinely puzzled, eyes wide and innocent. "Mom, I didn't touch it."

Cecilia wasn't convinced. "It's just you and me in this house. Fess up, and I won't yell at you. Just don't do it again. Put it back where it belongs."

Santos took the earring with a solemn nod, scampered to the bedroom, and opened the dresser drawer—only to find an identical earring already there. He muttered to himself, confused, "Wasn't there only one before? What's going on?"

"Mom, now there are two!" he called out, puzzled by the unexpected discovery.

Cecilia was busy in the bathroom, the sound of running water drowning out any other noises.

“Once you’re done cleaning up, come out here and grab a coffee for your dad,” she called to Santos, who was bouncing with excitement, waiting to finally step into his dad’s room.

“Yippee!”

He carefully put the earring back in its box before dashing out to get the coffee.

He gave a cautious knock on the door. “Dad, can I come in?”

Bruno was caught off guard by the boy’s politeness. When he saw Santos peeking through the door, the usual coldness he felt toward kids thawed just a little.

But his voice stayed aloof. “Come in.”

Bruno hoped that keeping things distant would make Santos give him some space, so he could get a little peace.

Santos carried the cup over carefully. “Dad, here’s your coffee.”

Bruno, still not used to being called “Dad,” took the cup, swallowed his pills, and handed it right back. “Alright, you can go now.”

Santos didn’t budge. He spotted Bruno’s injury. “Does it hurt a lot, Dad?”

“Not at all. Now get going.”

“Dad, you’re just faking it! You’re hurting so bad you can’t even get out of bed. I’ll blow on it—it’ll feel better.”

And with that, Santos climbed onto the bed and gently blew on the wound. The tickling sensation actually seemed to ease Bruno’s pain.

The worry in Santos’s eyes, the way he was genuinely trying to comfort him—it softened Bruno’s heart. Maybe kids weren’t so bad after all.

Pretending to stay indifferent was getting harder. He lifted his shirt a little. “Blow on my waist, too.”

As Cecilia busied herself outside, she’d steal glances every now and then. Seeing the two of them getting along like that brought a smile to her face.

Just seeing her son spend a moment with his “dad” made it worth having Bruno around.

Once the laundry was hung up to dry, Cecilia appeared in the doorway. “Santos, Mommy has to go out. Wanna go play at Auntie Kahlani’s?”

She wasn’t comfortable leaving her son alone with Bruno.

“I don’t wanna! I wanna stay with Dad!” Santos protested.

Bruno got why she hesitated and agreed. “I’m gonna take a nap. Go on over to Auntie’s.”

Reluctantly, Santos nodded. “Okay, Dad. Sleep good. We’ll play more when you wake up.”

Finding common ground on parenting surprised Cecilia. That was rare—and welcome.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she joked to Bruno, “In just half a day, your word’s already got more pull than mine.”

Santos’s infectious enthusiasm had already lightened Bruno’s mood; he was way less icy. “Jealous?”

“Oh please, in your dreams,” Cecilia shot back with a laugh.

After dropping Santos off at Auntie Kahlani’s, Cecilia headed out.

She ran her errands and made her way to the local “information hub”—the coffee shop. It was the go-to spot for all the latest town gossip.

With the sudden appearance of an outsider in town, and suspects of a chase, she wondered if anyone had useful info. But after eavesdropping for a while, she didn’t hear a single peep about Bruno.

Disappointed, and about to leave, her phone rang.

“Miss Dunn, the fees for Bed 26 are due again.”

Cecilia’s face went serious. Her voice came out heavy. “I’ll pay them right now.”

After covering the hospital bills, she stared at her dwindling balance, worry pressing in.

She changed course and headed to the police station.

“Any missing person reports lately?” she asked.

The officer gave her a puzzled look. “No, why? You find someone? A homeless guy or a kid?”

Her disappointment deepened. “No, I was just checking.”

Leaving the station, she felt crushed. Without knowing who Bruno was, she couldn’t claim the half a million she was promised. Without that money, she couldn’t get better treatment for her loved one in the hospital.

Lost in thought, she made her way home.

“Auntie Kahlani, I’m here for Santos.”

“He already went back,” Auntie Kahlani said.

The color drained from Cecilia’s face.

Bruno had told her he didn’t like kids. Could his warmth from earlier have been an act? Had he mistreated Santos while she was gone?

Panic surging, she rushed home and shouted, “Santos! Santos Ryan!”

Silence.

Heart pounding, she threw open Bruno’s bedroom door—and froze at the sight.

Santos was lying there, peacefully asleep next to Bruno, who was gently fanning him with a palm leaf.

Hearing the ruckus, Bruno looked up, exhaustion in his eyes.

Cecilia finally let out a breath, dropping her voice. “Why’s he sleeping in here?”

Bruno tossed the fan into her lap, grumbling, “He got sleepy, climbed up, and passed out on his own. Now get him outta here!”

At first, Bruno wanted to shoo the clingy kid away. But then, as Santos mumbled “I love you, Dad” in his half-sleep and snuggled up against Bruno’s leg, his heart just melted.

Watching Santos sleep there, all sweaty and cute, Bruno couldn’t help himself. He started fanning him with the palm leaf to cool him down. Half an hour later, his arm was aching from the effort.

Cecilia was touched by this unexpected softness from Bruno. “Thank you. Let him sleep a little longer.”

She stepped out briefly and came back with a bunch of stuff for Bruno.

“Got your trash can,” she announced. “Now you can take care of it yourself.”

Bruno’s face twisted in disbelief and disgust. “I told you, I don’t need it!”

Cecilia’s smile was sweet, but her tone was hard. “Suit yourself. But just so you know, if the couch gets messed up, there will be consequences.”

Bruno glared at her back as she walked away, wishing he could bore holes into her with just his eyes.

By evening, the small room had gotten stuffy, so Bruno was moved to the living room sofa. After lying around so long, he was feeling restless.

He spotted some magazines under the coffee table and grabbed one, calling out to Cecilia as she tidied up nearby. “You into finance magazines?”

“Not really,” Cecilia said. “Left by some old tenant. I was gonna sell them for recycling.”

Bruno’s eyes landed on an article with an interview. “Don’t sell ’em yet. I’ll use ’em to kill time.”

This issue had an interview with his grandfather, Conor Vargas.

Bruno looked more like his mother than the Vargas side, so he barely glanced at the photo, more absorbed in the article.

Santos scampered over. “Dad, I wanna read too!”

Even though the kid’s presence no longer annoyed him, liking him was still a stretch. Focused on the article, Bruno said, “Go play somewhere else,” without really thinking.

Cecilia cut in, “Talk to him right, Bruno!”

Remembering their earlier deal, Bruno finally looked up, his patience wearing thin. “Fine. You can read with me, but no noise.”

Santos nodded eagerly, happily settling in next to Bruno.

Bruno let the boy snuggle under his arm, the two of them bent over the magazine together—a surprisingly heartwarming sight.

Cecilia couldn’t help but pull out her phone and take a video. She figured it’d be something for Santos to look back on when he missed his dad.

After filming from the front, she moved behind them. When she looked at the magazine page, her face froze.

She snatched it away. “Conor Vargas?”

Bruno looked up, surprised. “You know the richest man in New York City?”