"Ciara, we're not done talking…"

I turned back, my expression a mask of confusion. "Talk about what? Aren't your 'affairs' all settled?"

Did he really expect me to be the same girl as before? To fret over him, to have everything waiting for him, no matter what?

Cradling the baby, I glanced over my shoulder. "Oh, right. If you're tired, the guest room is ready. You know the way."

The newborn fell asleep quickly. After settling her in her crib, a message came from my father.

Ciara, you've turned me down so many times, but I'm getting older. Can't you take over the Family for me? Please, do this for your Papa.

I know you don't want Ronan to feel like he's been kept in the dark, that the very organization he works for is backed by our family. But you're my only child. If you don't take over, who will?

A dull ache bloomed in my chest. My parents had sacrificed so much for me. And for Ronan, I had nearly let it all go to waste.

I took a deep breath and typed my reply. Dad, I'm ready. I want to come home.

The O'Connell family's enterprises spanned North America, from shipping to entertainment. My parents had often said they hoped I would take over when they retired.

But I had always refused—all for the sake of Ronan's pathetic pride.

I met Ronan on a rainy night. He was just a Soldato in a small-time street crew, clawing his way up with sheer ruthlessness.

He was a born fighter, and his vicious streak earned him a name on the streets.

But he never knew that every step of his rise was meticulously orchestrated by me. A man who clawed his way up from the gutter could never have survived the bloody underworld on his own.

On my birthday, Ronan stood in the rain for three hours.

The moment he saw me, he dropped to one knee.

"Ciara! Will you marry me?"

Ronan's black hair was plastered to his forehead, rain clinging to his eyelashes and glistening under the streetlight.

In that moment, his fierce, wolfish eyes reflected only me.

My heart pounded as I nervously clutched the hem of my dress, at a total loss.

Then, he rose and walked toward me. He pressed a cold kiss to my cheek, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered.

"Ciara, be my wife, please?"

"Yes."

The word left my lips before I could think.

Ronan knew I would agree. Everyone in the life knew how obsessed I was with him.

Just like that, we had a swift wedding.

After we were married, Ronan insisted he could protect me and refused to let me get involved in the disputes of "the life." Whenever I brought up family business, he would grow irritable and defensive.

"Ciara, do you look down on me too? Are you ashamed of where I come from?"

I knew it was just his pride talking, so I never called him on it. I thought I was doing everything a wife should.

My father must have sensed something was wrong. He sent me a message.

Are you and Ronan okay?

I didn't reply. A moment later, another message arrived.

Sweetheart, no matter what you decide, your mother and I will support you.

After dinner, Ronan came into the bedroom. I turned over, giving him my back.

"Nora is still too small. Having you in here disrupts her night feedings. Go sleep in the guest room."

In the past, whenever Ronan returned from his "affairs," I would cling to him, unwilling to leave his side for a second.

Now, the sight of him made me feel sick.

I didn't expect him to fly into a rage, completely disregarding our sleeping daughter.

"Enough! How long are you going to keep this tantrum up? I already explained! A week ago, I was with Scarlett for business. This Vegas trip was business too—what the fuck was I supposed to do?"

"If I don't risk my life out there, who's going to support you? Who's going to support Nora? This life costs money! How long are you going to keep up with this childish suspicion?"

"You're useless when it comes to my work—all you know how to do is cause problems!"

Oh, yes.

If Ronan hadn't brought it up, I might have forgotten just how foolish I’d been.