“I am the owner of record as of this signature,” Zo said, his voice dropping into that chilling, unyielding tone that brooked no debate. “If you or this animal ever set foot on this property again, I will have Frank break both your kneecaps and let the state attorney sort out the paperwork. Run along, Finch.”
Finch didn’t need to be told a second time. He turned and practically scrambled down the stairs, tripping over his own boots, with Carl trailing closely behind, leaving the rusted crowbar abandoned against the radiator in his haste to escape. The heavy ground-floor door slammed shut, sending a shudder all the way up the stairwell, followed by the muffled screech of tires on the icy asphalt outside as their beat-up sedan sped away into the night.
Zo stood in the silence of the hallway for a long moment, taking a deep, slow breath to clear the foul odor of cheap tobacco from his lungs. He adjusted his cuffs once more, making sure not a single hair or fabric thread was out of place, before turning back into the apartment.
The living room was quiet, save for the hum of the small ceramic heater.
The bedroom door opened an inch, then swung wide.
Tessa stood in the threshold, her hands clasped tightly against her chest, her face completely pale. Behind her, Toby and Leo were peering out, their wide eyes moving from the empty hallway to the tall man standing calmly in their living room.
Tessa had heard every word.
Through the thin wood of the bedroom door, the entire exchange had echoed with brutal clarity. She had heard Arthur Finch—the man who had terrified her for six months, the man who had threatened to throw her mother’s belongings into the rain, the man who held the power to destroy her family—begging like a whipped dog. She had heard the name Zo Rossi spoken not just as an employer, but as an unstoppable force of nature that moved mountains of debt and crushed predators with the stroke of a pen.
“He’s gone,” Zo said simply, stepping fully inside and closing the apartment door behind him, locking the deadbolt with a quiet click.
Tessa took a step forward, her legs shaking so badly she had to reach out and brace herself against the doorframe. “You… you bought the building?”
“The Rossi Foundation owns it now,” Zo corrected, his voice losing its terrifying edge, returning to that deep, measured tone she was accustomed to. “Which means your rent is settled. Permanently. There will be no marshals tomorrow morning, Tessa. No locks changed. No belongings on the sidewalk.”
A ragged, broken sound escaped Tessa’s throat. She tried to maintain her composure, tried to hold on to the quiet, stoic dignity she had worn like armor every single day since her mother had drawn her last breath, but the sheer, overwhelming relief crushed through her defenses like a tidal wave.
Her knees buckled.
Zo moved across the room in two strides, his long arms catching her before she could hit the linoleum floor. His hands gripped her shoulders, firm and steady, holding her upright against his chest.
“Steady,” he murmured, his voice softer than she had ever heard it. “I’ve got you.”
Tessa grabbed the lapels of his cashmere coat, her fingers digging into the expensive wool as wracking sobs tore through her body. She didn’t mean to lean against him, didn’t mean to cry against the pristine fabric of a man whose world was so far above hers it felt like another planet, but she had been carrying the weight of the sky for an entire year with nobody to share the load. To have that suffocating, crushing weight suddenly lifted off her back was too much for her exhausted body to endure.
“Thank you,” she wept, her voice muffled against his chest. “Thank you… oh God, thank you…”
Zo did not pull away. He held her firmly, his large hand resting against the middle of her back, offering an immovable pillar of strength in the drafty, dilapidated apartment.
Over her shoulder, Zo caught the eyes of Toby and Leo.
Leo was smiling, a small, tentative grin breaking across his face as he realized the bad man with the loud voice was never coming back. But Toby remained serious. The ten-year-old stepped out of the bedroom, walked slowly over to where Zo stood holding his weeping sister, and stopped two feet away.
Toby looked at the cashmere coat, then up into Zo’s eyes.
