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Kyle took Jane and Cassandra back home so they could give Jasmine the clothes they'd gotten for her. The shopping trip had turned into more than just Kyle buying things for England. He'd insisted on getting outfits for everyone, including Jasmine, who'd been measuring up in his mind the entire time Marcus was pulling pieces.

They pulled up to the house, Kyle parking in the driveway while Jane and Cassandra grabbed the bags designated for Jasmine. There were three of them, filled with age-appropriate dresses, casual clothes, shoes, and even a winter coat that cost more than most people's monthly rent.

He could splurge right now, he had the ability to after living a majority of his life in adject poverty.

"Jasmine! Come down here, sweetie!" Cassandra called up the stairs the moment they walked inside. "We have something for you!"

The sound of small feet thundering down the staircase followed immediately. Jasmine appeared, her face bright with curiosity, Jnr somehow balanced on her hip despite her small frame.

"What is it? What is it?" She bounced on her toes, her energy infectious.

Kyle set the bags down on the living room floor and gestured to them. "These are for you."

Jasmine's eyes went wide. "For me? All of them?" It was clear Jasmine wasn't used to being considered this way but this was expected considering her life before Kyle found her which ironically happened because he beat her brother to a pulp.

"All of them," Kyle confirmed. "Go ahead. Open them up."

Jasmine carefully set Jnr down in his playpen before approaching the bags like they might disappear if she moved too fast. She opened the first one, pulling out a beautiful blue dress with white trim, the kind of thing little girls wore to birthday parties or special occasions.

Her mouth fell open.

Then she opened the second bag. Casual clothes, jeans and sweaters and colorful shirts with patterns she'd probably only ever seen on other kids. The third bag had shoes—real shoes with good support, not the worn-out sneakers held together with hope that she'd been wearing when Kyle first found her.

Jasmine was excited as hell. She couldn't stop smiling, pulling out piece after piece, holding them up against herself, her face showing so many emotions all at once that Kyle could barely track them. Joy, disbelief, gratitude, overwhelm, pure childish excitement at having things that were actually hers and brand new.

All Kyle could do was smile, watching her process this avalanche of kindness.

He was responsible for this moment. For the light in her eyes, for the happiness radiating off her in waves. And it felt better than any business deal, any rebate payout, any power play in the underworld.

Before he knew it, Jasmine's face crumpled. Her smile wavered, her eyes filled with tears, and she started crying.

Jane and Cassandra fell silent immediately, exchanging uncertain glances. They didn't know if they should console her or give her space, whether these were happy tears or something else entirely.

But Jasmine answered the question by running straight to Kyle. She crashed into him, burying her face in his chest, her small arms wrapping around his waist as tight as she could manage. The dress she'd been holding crumpled beneath her grip, forgotten in the intensity of the moment.

All Kyle did was smile. He patted her head gently, his other hand rubbing small circles on her back.

"T-Thank you so much!" Jasmine blurted out through the tears, her voice muffled against his shirt. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"It's fine," Kyle responded softly, his voice carrying a warmth he didn't use often. "You deserve nice things, Jasmine."

Everyone in the room noticed how different Jasmine's emotional state was becoming lately. More regulated, more open, more like an actual kid instead of a miniature adult who'd been forced to survive on the streets. She was learning it was okay to cry when she was happy, okay to be vulnerable, okay to trust that the good things in her life weren't going to disappear overnight.

"I'm your big brother after all," Kyle added, the words coming out naturally even though the title was still relatively new.

Cassandra's expression softened into something almost unbearably tender. Jane's eyes were misty, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she watched the scene unfold.

This was so incredibly sweet. And both women realized in that moment that Kyle had the emotional capacity for this kind of bond, this kind of genuine familial connection. He wasn't just playing a role or fulfilling an obligation. He actually cared about Jasmine, wanted to be there for her, wanted to give her the childhood she'd been robbed of.

Cassandra knew a little about Kyle's past from conversations they'd had late at night when defenses were down. She knew he'd grown up without much, that his own childhood had been marked by absence and struggle. Seeing him this way with Jasmine was refreshing and profound. He was making a conscious effort to heal his own childhood trauma through her, giving her everything he'd never had, being the protector and provider he'd desperately needed when he was her age.

It was beautiful to witness.

Jasmine eventually pulled back, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand, embarrassed by the outburst but still smiling. "Can I try them on? All of them?"

"Every single one," Kyle confirmed. "Fashion show in the living room. Mandatory attendance for everyone."

Jasmine giggled and grabbed the bags, racing upstairs to change.

Jane moved closer to Kyle, leaning her head against his shoulder. "You're really good with her."

"She makes it easy," Kyle replied. "She's a good kid who got dealt a shit hand. Least I can do is stack the deck back in her favor."

Cassandra joined them, wrapping an arm around Kyle's waist from the other side. "You're healing, you know. Through her. It's okay to acknowledge that."

Kyle didn't respond immediately, but he didn't pull away either. Just stood there flanked by two women he cared about, waiting for a seven-year-old to come back downstairs and model clothes that represented stability, safety, and the promise that things could actually get better.

For a man who'd spent weeks navigating mafia politics and deadly power plays, this moment of simple domestic happiness felt revolutionary.

Kyle knew this was his family now and he needed to do everything in his power to make sure no harm comes to them to the best of his knowledge.

And he had the money to do so but not just that, the power as well as he had connections to the Mafia and the Yakuza.

If someone like Jane's now deceased stalker came through again, Kyle wouln't need to raise a finger to have him disappear. Not that he hoped he would need to do something that extreme to begin with.

-

Ella managed to return home as the sun was setting, exhausted and emotionally wrung out from her encounter with Cleopatra. The warehouse, the gun, the memories her sister had inadvertently triggered, all of it had left her feeling hollowed out and strangely peaceful at the same time.

Cleopatra hadn't killed her. Ella had never thought she would, not even for a second. Despite everything, despite the cruelty and the coldness and the reputation, Cleopatra couldn't cross that particular line.

Ella checked her phone as she walked up to the apartment building. There was a message from Kyle, sent hours ago, asking if she was okay. Relief flooded through her system immediately.

He was safe. Which meant Cleopatra had been full of shit about him being in immediate danger, or at least it meant Kyle was out of harm's way now. Either way, the fear that had driven Ella into her sister's car had been unfounded.

"Stupid head," Ella muttered under her breath with a small smile, already composing a response in her mind.

Weirdly enough, Cleopatra had made sure one of her people dropped Ella off. Not at the apartment exactly, but close enough that the walk was manageable. A black sedan with tinted windows, a silent driver who didn't ask questions or make conversation. Just professional courtesy extended to someone Cleopatra apparently still gave a damn about despite everything.

Cleopatra hadn't wanted Ella stranded at that warehouse with no way to return home. It was the smallest kindness, but it spoke volumes about the complicated relationship between the sisters.

But there was one thing they didn't account for.

Viktor's minions were already watching Kyle's apartment building. Stationed in vehicles, positioned on rooftops, monitoring everyone who came and went. And Cleopatra's distinctive black ride dropping Ella off, that particular vehicle with those particular plates belonging to an organization Viktor would absolutely recognize, was exactly the kind of detail that would get flagged and reported.

The watchers saw everything. The car. The drop-off. Ella's face as she exited and headed inside.

And within minutes, that information was making its way up the chain.

To Viktor. To Marcello. To people who would want to know why Cleopatra's people were anywhere near Kyle's residence, why they were providing transportation to one of Kyle's women, what the connection was and what it meant.

This little act of kindness, this moment of sibling concern from Cleopatra, was the very thing that would make what she feared most become a possibility.

Ella would become a known target. Not just to random underworld players, but to the specific people watching Kyle, analyzing his connections, mapping his vulnerabilities.

And Cleopatra, despite all her power and planning, had just inadvertently painted a target on her little sister's back.

The pieces were moving. The game was escalating. And none of the players fully understood how deeply entangled everything had become.

Ella walked into the apartment building, completely unaware she was being watched, completely unaware that the next phase of chaos was already being set in motion.

She just wanted to text Kyle back, maybe take a long shower, and process everything that had happened with Cleopatra.

But the world outside had other plans.

And the surveillance network was already tightening around all of them.

Ella noticed one thing as she entered the shower, her soap was used by someone and she was certain it wasn't Kyle.

"That fool..." Ella muttered under her breath but she couldn't complain. If Jane, the most sensitive of the two, found a way to adjust to this life then there was no reason for her to throw a tantrum.

Ella took out her phone and snapped the soap, she thought about a caption to use for a second.

[[Seriously? My soap? I will beat your ass when I see you]]

Ella wrote before sending it and she meant every word, she did intend to beat Kyle.

But for some reason, if this was any other man, she would have hated this. But not with Kyle because she knew her spot was safe with him seeing as he didn't stick his cock into every woman he met.

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