His Unwanted Wife, The Unbeatable Lawyer

Caterina POV:

A summons arrived the next morning from a discreet courier.

It was a single, heavy card embossed with the crest of the Walsh Family. An invitation-no, a command-to meet with Giuliano Wilson.

The Consigliere.

His office was a fortress within a fortress, a quiet, wood-paneled room high in a downtown skyscraper that served as a legitimate front for the Walsh empire.

He sat behind a massive oak desk, an older man with eyes that had seen everything and forgotten nothing.

I laid it all out for him.

The betrayal at Mayland, Jared's lies, and the existence of the recording on the flash drive, which I placed on his desk.

Giuliano listened in complete silence, his hands steepled before him.

When I finished, he didn't offer pity. He offered respect.

"You are not a failure, Caterina," he said, his voice a low rumble. "You are the sharpest asset I have ever witnessed in a negotiation. Your composure under fire is legendary."

I felt a crack in the icy wall around my heart.

I hadn't realized how much I needed to hear that. "I feel like I've failed my Family. By letting this happen."

He shook his head slowly.

"The failure is Jared's. I always saw the weakness in him.

A peacock who cares more for the shine of his feathers than the strength of his wings. You should know," he leaned forward slightly, "the other Families have far more respect for you than they ever will for your husband."

That simple statement was a weapon.

He was arming me.

"I want to be the Commission's official interpreter," I said, my voice steady. "A neutral party, but a powerful one. My loyalty will be to the code, not to one man."

"Done," Giuliano said without hesitation. "I will advise my Don that backing your petition is a strategic masterstroke.

It weakens a rival and upholds the principles of honor. My only condition is this: the interests of the Families, as a whole, must always come first."

"They always have," I replied.

Leaving his office, my mind was racing.

I had a powerful ally.

As the elevator doors opened, a man in full tactical gear stepped in.

He was tall, built like a mountain, with an aura of absolute authority that filled the small space.

Don Rocco Walsh.

His eyes, the color of cold steel, met mine.

"Ms. Quinn," he said, his voice a low growl.

It was the same voice from the comms. The voice that had been the only point of calm in the chaos of Mayland.

"I'll be personally handling security for the Commission summit," he stated, not as a point of information, but as a fact of life.

"We'll be working together again."

"Don Walsh," I started, the words coming out before I could stop them. "Thank you. For your command during the Mayland incident. You..."

He cut me off with a gruff, dismissive wave of his hand. "Just doing my job."

The doors opened on the ground floor, and he was gone.

But I could still feel the weight of his presence.

And I remembered his voice, a lifeline of cold, brutal authority that had kept me grounded while my world fell apart.