Cecilia held her tongue, her face tight. Bruno studied her, clocking the way she flinched earlier when he'd mentioned any possible tie to the Ryan family.

"So, they really are your enemies?" Bruno murmured.

Santos, always nosy, jumped in with, "Mom, who's the bad guy? Is someone messing with you? Just tell me and I'll deal with it!"

Cecilia shot him a look, wrestling down the storm inside. She ruffled his hair. "It's nothing, sweetheart. Don't listen to your dad's nonsense."

Cecilia didn't spill any details, but Bruno could feel it in his gut—there was way more history between her and the Ryans in Port City than she was letting on.

He decided not to push it and went back to flipping through a magazine.

Later, a loud thud followed by Bruno's pained groan jerked Cecilia awake. She bolted out to find him on the floor, face twisted in a grimace.

"How do you manage to fall out of a bed this huge?" she teased, hauling him up.

Bruno winced. "I was trying to get to the bathroom and tripped."

"Didn't I give you a bedpan for emergencies?" she shot back, pointedly.

"I told you, I'm not using that!" Bruno snapped, stubborn as a mule.

"Fine. Your call, your misery," Cecilia sighed, too exhausted to argue at this ungodly hour. Grudgingly, she helped him to the bathroom, listening to the water run as she waited outside.

"All that stubbornness just to end up suffering," she muttered under her breath.

When Bruno emerged, he declared, "I need a shower."

Cecilia, groggy and thoroughly ticked off, shot him a look. "You can't get your wounds wet!"

With the summer heat, Bruno felt sticky and gross, unable to sleep a wink. "Just help me wash a little," he pleaded.

She jabbed a finger at herself, eyes wide. "Help you? Ever hear of 'a gentleman and a lady don't just go around touching each other'?"

Bruno wasn't thrilled about asking for her help, but he was out of options. "You already saw everything last night. Why the sudden coy act?"

"I was saving your life!" Cecilia shot back, frustration climbing. "That's totally different!"

"If I don't clean up, I might as well be dead. Help me out just this once," Bruno urged, his voice turning sincere.

She studied the pampered prince standing before her and let out a long breath. "One more million on top of the reward."

Bruno didn't even flinch. "Deal."

Truth was, Cecilia wasn't holding her breath for extra cash—she doubted she'd ever see the original promised amount. The demand was more for her own peace of mind.

Pretending this whole thing might actually be worth her time, she grabbed some plastic wrap and a stool and rolled up her sleeves. "Off with your clothes," she commanded.

Bruno managed to get his shirt off but couldn't bend enough to lose the pants because of the gash in his abdomen. "You're gonna have to handle this."

Chanting "one million, one million" in her head, Cecilia worked quick, dying to crawl back to bed. She bent down and yanked his trousers, accidentally pulling way more than she meant to in her sleep-deprived haze.

Startled by her own screwup, she whipped around, blushing like she'd been lit on fire.

"CECILIA!!!" Bruno's voice was pure outrage.

"That was straight-up harassment!"

She'd never landed in a situation like this before. She fumbled to help him get dressed again, covering her embarrassment with clumsy speed. "I might as well throw myself in the river…"

"And yet here you are!" Bruno shot back, watching her hands tremble like mad.

Sighing, he ordered, "You've already seen it. Open your damn eyes!"

"No need, I can do this blind!" Cecilia insisted, totally mortified.

"I'm worried about where exactly your hands might wander off to!" he countered.

Her eyes flew open.

Once he was dressed and his wounds properly wrapped, the tiny bathroom felt even more cramped with the two of them this close.

Her fingers brushed against his rock-hard abs, and some traitorous flutter went off in her chest.

To kill the awkward silence, she blurted, "Damn, you're built—how do you even get in shape?"

The second the words left her mouth, she realized they sounded way too flirty. She silently cursed her runaway curiosity.

Bruno, picking up on the vibe, shot her a smirk. "Wanna check it out up close?"

"Well, that's wildly inappropriate…" Cecilia muttered, feeling like her own curiosity had just sold her out.

Her interest only cranked up Bruno's suspicion.

"Go ahead, take a feel. I dare you," Bruno's tone was more teasing than serious.

Resigning herself to his so-called generosity, she gave his chest a hesitant squeeze, genuinely stunned by how firm he was.

Bruno caught her lingering hand and held it tight. "Cecilia, you looking for trouble?"

"You offered!" she defended, wildly.

"Oh, so we're playing innocent now?" Bruno teased.

He yanked her closer, an arm snaking around her waist. "You went around calling me your husband in front of everyone—hoping to make it real?"

Cecilia, bold in spirit but shy when it came to real action, felt a sudden chill at his closeness.

"No, that's not what this is…" she stammered.

Bruno's voice dropped to a murmur. "More than the five hundred grand, you just want me, don't you? You could've just said so. I'm not against it."

He tipped her chin up to force her eyes to meet his. "I can't fulfill every single desire you've got yet, but how about we start with a kiss?"

As he leaned in, Cecilia fought every urge to smack that smug smirk off his face. But she was smart enough not to go pissing off the prized heir of the Ryan family.

Pulling herself together, she mocked, "You're really enjoying your little game, aren't you?"

Bruno, seemingly clueless about how heavy his words landed, chuckled. "I just found out who I really am. I was a coward to ditch you and Santos back then. I didn't tell you about who I was sooner because I was terrified you'd hold it over my head. Forgive me, yeah?"

Cecilia realized Lincoln hadn't told him the part about Shelby Wright.

"So you're not scared I'll hold you accountable now?" she jabbed.

Bruno grinned. "I'm ready to make it up to you. Should I kneel right here or in the bedroom?"

His playful charm did a little damage to her anger, slicing it down some.

Gently taking her hand, he spoke with more earnestness. "I messed up. Coming back into the family was brutal. I hid who I was partly to keep you from shouldering any unnecessary crap. Let's hash this whole thing out, and maybe I'll even remember why I left you in the first place."

Cecilia dropped her gaze.

Thinking back over recent events, she remembered bringing a bloody Bruno into her home. It was dead obvious he lived a dangerous life—ordinary people didn't have enemies like his. His secrecy was probably what kept her out of harm's way.

She wanted the real truth about Bruno and Shelby, but she knew counting on either of them was pointless. One was in a coma, the other had lost his damn memory.

For now, she'd have to rely on herself.

"We can put our issues on pause," she told him. "Go handle your own affairs."

"I'll introduce you formally to my grandparents and parents," he suggested.

Uncertain about Bruno's real standing, Cecilia still felt the older couple deserved respect on an occasion like this.

Gathering her skirt, she tried to stand, but the pins and needles from sitting too long and those killer heels almost sent her crashing down.

Bruno caught her deftly.

"Should I just carry you?" he quipped.

They hadn't exactly been close lately, but his stupidly handsome face and how near he stood left her momentarily flustered.

Way too damn good-looking for his own good—a walking temptation.

She frowned, stretched out her legs, and pushed him off. "Who needs your help?"

Smoothing down her dress, she walked off like she owned the place.

Santos showed up hauling two massive platters of desserts. "Dad! Mom! The chef made two huge spiced honey cakes just for me! You guys have gotta try them!"

Bruno scooped Santos up and grabbed one of the plates. "Dad's not hungry, and Mom's had enough sweets for the day. Eat too much and you'll get sick. Save some for later, okay?"

Santos's face fell. "But the chef made them just for me and put in extra fruit!"

Seeing that pout, Bruno caved instantly. "Alright, alright, I'll eat it! Can't let all my son's hard work go to waste."

Santos broke into a huge grin and shoved a giant piece into Bruno's mouth. "It's so yummy! Later let's ask Grandpa if we can take some home for later!"

Bruno, his mouth full, managed, "Don't need to take 'em home. This is your home now. And hey, it's 'Great-Grandpa' from now on."

Santos furrowed his brows. "Why 'Great-Grandpa'? And why is this our home? Our home's in Westfield."

Bruno explained, "This is where Dad grew up, so it's your home too. Grandpa is my grandpa, so you call him 'Great-Grandpa.' Got it?"

Santos nodded, still looking a little lost. "OK."

Another piece of cake followed, piling onto Bruno's contentment.

After Cecilia had greeted the family matriarch, Conor Vargas came up to her with, "Cecilia, my grandson came back today. The foolish way he treated you before was dead wrong. I'll have him apologize properly later!"

Feeling the weight of a hundred eyes on her, Cecilia froze up. "Um, about that…"

Explaining her whole tangled relationship with Bruno under this much scrutiny felt impossible.

Nearby, Lincoln could barely hold in his laughter.

Bruno made his way over with Santos just as Conor asked, "Why are you holding Cecilia's son? You two back together or something?"

Santos chirped up, "Great-Grandpa!"

Then, turning to the matriarch, "Happy Thanksgiving, Great-Grandma!"

Conor stared, confused. "Why the fancy new title today?"

Bruno finished off his cake and faced him. "Grandpa, Grandma, let me officially introduce Cecilia as my wife and Santos as my son."

Conor's eyes nearly popped out. "You said what? Cecilia and you… But Cecilia's married, she's got a husband!"

His head spun.

Bruno set the record straight. "Her husband has always been me. Santos is our son from way back. I'll fill you in later."

Conor swung around to Lincoln. "Didn't you once say that… something was handled? Tell me you're not serious!"

Lincoln, dancing with mischief, said, "Just a little trick to stop you from swiping Santos. My bad!"

"You sneaky little—!" Conor raised his cane, fuming.

Meanwhile, Brock Baker snapped out of his daze, completely floored. He turned on Cecilia. "You're telling me your husband has been Bruno this whole damn time?"

Earlier, after watching Bruno's rise, Cecilia had a hunch Brock might be his biggest rival.

She gave him a sly smile. "Yep. He's been right under your nose the whole time. Wishing you'd found him sooner?"

Brock ground his teeth, pasting on fake regret. "Of course. Had we known he was here, we wouldn't have wasted all that effort hunting for him, only to be fooled by some look-alike."

Feigning shock, Cecilia said, "Hell of a coincidence, someone looking so much like him, especially carrying the family heirloom."

Brock's mouth twitched. "An impossible coincidence."

He rounded on her, accusing, "You found Bruno and hid it from Grandma and Aunt, letting them worry themselves sick. Was there some hidden agenda?"

Then he pushed further. "Was all that caring for Shelby Wright and helping Grandma just part of some calculated scheme?"

Cecilia's words jammed in her throat. She realized she was being painted as the villain.

She cut straight through the fake politeness. "You just never miss a chance to drag my name through the mud, do you?"

Brock, boiling mad, fired back, "Talking back like that in front of your elders—you think you can just waltz into the Ryan family? Keep dreaming!"

Cecilia met his anger with icy calm. "Are you the one calling the shots here?"

"You—!" Brock spluttered.

To him, Cecilia was clearly an enemy he'd never be able to avoid.

Cecilia flinched at Bruno's sudden intensity, panic seizing her chest as her mind raced to Santos sleeping nearby. She whispered sharply, trying to defuse the bomb ticking between them.

"You're being ridiculous. I didn't mean anything by it!"

"You're always playing games, and now you act like you're innocent?"

"You're making that up. I haven't done a single thing to lead you on!"

"Oh yeah? Pulling my pants down, touching my chest, the flirting—and you still deny it?"

"The pants were an accident, and touching you... it was just curiosity."

"You've got a kid. What's so damn intriguing about a man's body? Can't you come up with a better excuse?"

Cecilia's mouth fell open but no words came out.

Bruno leaned in, his breath hot against her skin. "Tonight, I'm going to kiss you until your legs give out."

At his words, her knees already felt like jelly. Mortified and desperate, she bit her lip and jabbed a finger hard into the wound on his abdomen.

Bruno hissed, releasing her with a pained grunt. "You little devil—that was brutal!"

Cecilia bolted from the bathroom, locked herself in her room, and buried her head under the covers.

"Stupid man! Egotistical jerk! I swear I'll kick you out tomorrow and let your enemies tear you to pieces!"

Her whispered rant faded into the pillow until sleep finally dragged her under.

When morning came and she didn't spot Santos, she yawned and shuffled out of her room to find him.

She discovered the little boy curled up in Bruno's bed, his head resting on Bruno's arm, the picture of peaceful contentment.

"Santos, come here right now!"

Santos didn't budge an inch. "Dad said I could stay."

Bruno lay back with an arm tucked under his head, watching Cecilia with a lazy grin. "Wanna join us? There's plenty of room."

Cecilia shot him a death glare. "Don't you dare say stuff like that in front of the child!"

She scooped Santos right off the bed. "Go get cleaned up, now!"

With just the two adults left in the room, Cecilia cleared her throat. "We need to talk."

Having a kid in the house meant she couldn't afford another close call like last night. She had to lay down some ground rules with Bruno before things spiraled.

Bruno nodded. "I'm listening."

"Last night was a misunderstanding," Cecilia started, her voice firm. "I have zero interest in you. None."

Bruno's expression stayed skeptical.

"All I want is to raise Santos well," she went on, dead serious. "I've got no plans to find a partner or get married, so you can drop the idea that I'm scheming something. Don't twist my actions into something they're not, and don't pull anything inappropriate."

Her life was already so packed with responsibilities that romance or relationships didn't even make the list.

The playful glint in Bruno's eyes faded, replaced by something surprisingly genuine. "Don't be so absolute. What if you meet someone who genuinely cares about you and your son?"

Cecilia's gaze turned even darker. "There's no such thing as true love. In the adult world, everything's a transaction. I saved your life for half a million. You're nice to my kid because you need me."

She spoke so bluntly that guilt stabbed at Bruno's chest. He realized, too late, he'd misread her completely.

"So basically, your point is you've got no designs on me, right? I get it. And I'm sorry for how I acted."

With everything out in the open, a weight lifted off both their shoulders.

From then on, Bruno—aside from the basics like eating and bathroom breaks—didn't bother Cecilia. But Santos? The kid couldn't stay away from him.

When Cecilia got home that afternoon, Santos came running, his little face twisted with worry.

"Mom, Dad's burning up!"

Bruno lay there with his eyes shut, cheeks flushed bright red.

Cecilia pressed a hand to his forehead. "He's on fire!"

Muttering under her breath, she scrambled to find the thermometer.

Bruno's lips were dry and cracked, his eyes swimming with reproach as they met hers. "You left me in the bathroom last night."

Struggling to bathe by himself, he'd soaked his wound and hadn't dried his hair, leaving his already weakened body an easy target for sickness.

"You did this to yourself!" she snapped.

Glancing at the thermometer, Cecilia's worry deepened. "103.1! Nope, you need a hospital—now!"

Bruno's hand clamped around her arm. "No hospitals! Just give me the damn medicine..."

She knew that parading an injured man around would raise red flags and might lead his pursuers right to their door. "Fine. Let's try the meds first."

She gave him fever reducers and pressed an ice pack to his forehead.

"Don't go frying your brain on me—you still owe me half a million," she fretted, hovering over him.

His throat burning like sandpaper, Bruno mumbled weakly, "If I lose my mind, it's not just half a million. You'd have to take care of me for life..."

"Oh no, you are not pinning that on me!" Cecilia shot back.

"If you hadn't ditched me, I wouldn't be burning up right now. Who else would I pin it on...?" The memory loss, combined with a clingy, chatterbox of a kid, had worn down Bruno's usual aloofness.

Even with a sky-high fever, he couldn't resist going back and forth with Cecilia.

"You're a real handful," Cecilia sighed. "Old wounds not even healed and you go and get yourself sick. You're harder to look after than royalty."

"When you get sick, I'll return the favor," he offered.

"Fat chance. I don't get sick, and even if I did, I wouldn't need your help!"

Drained of every ounce of strength, Bruno slipped into a fevered sleep.

Later, Cecilia brought in a basin of warm water.

She gently wiped down Bruno's hands and feet, pausing at his elegant, well-cared-for fingers. "Clearly some rich young master. If your parents saw you right now, they'd be worried sick."

Motherhood had softened her heart.

Bruno stirred in the middle of the night. His hand felt warm, held tight by another.

Turning his head, he saw Cecilia, her fingers laced with his, fast asleep with her head resting on his arm.

Bruno felt like he'd turned into Cecilia's personal cushion. He'd never been a human pillow before, and his first instinct was to yank his arm away. But one look at her exhausted face, and a wave of sympathy washed over him, keeping him rooted to the spot.

In the Ryan family's cutthroat world, where fake smiles hid backstabbing agendas, true sincerity was rare—and usually laughed right out of the room. Bruno, the third son, had long since built walls of cold indifference around himself. But now, with his amnesia tearing those walls down, a long-buried craving for genuine affection was clawing its way to the surface.

Cecilia might have a sharp tongue and a blunt way of speaking, but she actually gave a damn. She looked after Bruno with fierce dedication, even though her back was still killing her. Like right now, with Bruno burning up with fever, she'd stayed glued to his side all night, offering whatever comfort she could.

Her sincere care sparked something deep inside him—a rush of joy, mixed with a greedy hunger for more of that attention. Cecilia was the real deal, no act. Spontaneous and full of life, a lot like their three-year-old son, Santos. Bruno found that impossible not to love. He was really starting to enjoy his time with her and the kid.

The realization hit him as he watched her. Her features were soft, her face pretty with those striking red lips, and her dark hair thrown up in a messy tie. Beautiful as she was, she usually looked like a hot mess in oversized clothes—probably a deliberate move to keep unwanted male attention away in her line of work, which required her to rub elbows with men.

A subtle smile tugged at his lips as he instinctively tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The movement jolted her awake.

She scrambled up, her fingers flying to check his forehead. "I fell asleep holding your hand so I'd wake up if you moved. Not for any other reason," she blurted out.

This time, Bruno didn't tease her about using him as a pillow. Instead, he broke the tension with a joke. "My arm's dead numb from the weight."

Apologetic, Cecilia started massaging his arm. "I'm so sorry."

Not used to her being all serious and earnest, Bruno stilled her hands. "I was just messing around. I'm fine. Get some more sleep."

Cecilia checked his temperature once more and finally let out a breath of relief. "The fever broke."

Yawning, she headed toward her room. "Remember to add another million to my fee," she teased.

Bruno answered with genuine willingness. "Deal."

The next morning, barely running on fumes, Cecilia showed up at Bruno's bedside with breakfast.

Bruno was soaking up being pampered like a sponge. "My arm feels weak," he remarked. "Probably from you leaning on it last night."

Guilt flickered across Cecilia's face. "I didn't do it on purpose..."

Santos jumped right in, eager to help. "Daddy, I'll feed you!"

Bruno frowned. "You're just a kid; you can barely hold the bowl steady. Let your mom do it."

He turned to Cecilia. "Would you mind?"

Totally unaware of his scheming, Cecilia figured he was still too wiped out to manage on his own. She sat beside him, carefully blowing on the ravioli before feeding him, even dabbing at his mouth now and then. Taking care of Bruno had become so second nature to her that she treated him like a kid without giving it a second thought. Bruno, meanwhile, was getting more and more hooked on the feeling of being babied.

Milking his recovery for all it was worth, he morphed into a total high-maintenance patient, making Cecilia jump at his every whim.

"I'm thirsty."

"I need the bathroom."

"Are there any fruits?"

"My calf is itching—could you scratch it for me?"

Cecilia, still clueless about his real motives, kept being accommodating, especially since Bruno had totally won over her son.

After helping him with dinner rolls and pulled pork, just when she thought she could catch a break, Bruno's voice rang out again.

"Cecilia, my legs feel all stiff. Could you check if they're swollen?"

With a sigh, Cecilia resigned herself to checking on him.

"Looks a bit swollen. Probably from lying down too long," she assessed.

Bruno, hiding his ruthless streak behind puppy eyes, looked at her pleadingly. "It's uncomfortable. Could you give them a massage?"

Wary after the fever fiasco, Cecilia didn't dare slack off on Bruno's care. She sat at the edge of the bed, lifting his legs onto her lap to massage them.

"I'll use a warm towel as a compress later. That should help," she offered.

Bruno's lips curved into a grin. "You're really sweet, you know."

Cecilia shot back, "We each get what we want out of this."

Bruno, however, silently disagreed.

"Honestly, taking care of you is more tiring than a full day's work," Cecilia admitted.

Feigning sincerity, Bruno said, "I appreciate it. I'll add another million to your cut."

Even though she knew it was a hollow promise, Cecilia couldn't help the smile tugging at her mouth. "Sounds fair to me."

After twenty minutes of massaging, Bruno noticed the exhaustion etched on Cecilia's face and decided against pushing his luck any further. "Alright, just help me clean up, then crash."

Cecilia's eyes went wide. "Clean up? Help you?!"

Bruno met her gaze with wide, innocent eyes. "Is there a problem?"

Flashes of their last awkward encounter zipped through her mind, and Cecilia shook her head vigorously. "I'll do anything, but not that!"

Bruno's voice turned coaxing, almost pleading. "If I don't get cleaned up, I can't sleep. And if I can't sleep, neither can you."

Now Cecilia finally grasped just how shameless he could be.

Bruno gently tugged at her hand, his tone pure honey. "I swear there might be fleas in that cluttered little room of yours. I'm itching everywhere. Just a quick wipe, that's all."

Cecilia frowned. She could tell Bruno was a pampered rich boy; if she didn't help, he'd probably try to fumble through it himself. And if he ended up spiking a fever again, she didn't have the energy to pull another all-nighter.

Grudgingly, she caved. "A quick wash then!"

Bruno's triumphant smile followed. "Thanks, you're a lifesaver."

As he beamed at her, Cecilia felt a sudden jolt of doubt: Had memory loss stripped away the real Bruno, leaving behind this unrelenting, yet oddly endearing, version?

Still mulling it over, she went to prepare warm water.

Even for a speedy wash, clothes had to come off, so she cautiously helped Bruno with his pants this time, fully on high alert thanks to past mishaps.

"Underwear needs changing too," Bruno pointed out, snapping her attention right back to the present, her heart skipping a beat.