The woman from CPS stepped into the foyer like she owned the place, her sharp-heeled shoes a declaration of war on the marble.
She was all crisp lines and judgment, her hair pinned so tightly it looked like it hurt. Her gaze swept over the expensive art and landed on Eva with the clinical focus of a bomb technician.
"Eva Ivanova?" The tone was an accusation.
Eva folded her arms, mirroring the woman's rigid posture. "That depends. Are you selling something?"
The agent's eyes flicked past her to where Alessandro leaned against the banister, a silent, watchful shadow. "And you are?"
"The guy paying the property taxes on this museum," he said flatly. "Who are you?"
She ignored him, pulling a tablet from her bag. "We received a report. A public incident yesterday involving your ward."
Eva's pulse kicked. "You mean the attempted abduction."
"That's not the report I have." The agent tapped the screen, and a grainy, edited video played. It showed only the jerk of the stroller, Sophia's cry, making Eva look like a monster. The hashtags below were a digital witch hunt: #WhoIsShe #CPSDoYourJob.
"That's edited," Eva snarled, her jaw aching.
"That's the internet," the woman replied, not a flicker of empathy in her eyes. "There are also questions about your guardianship paperwork—"
"My paperwork is flawless," Alessandro cut in, his voice a low hum of threat. "Yours, however, is lacking. Where's your warrant?"
"I don't need one for a wellness check. I need to inspect the child's conditions and speak with her. Alone."
"That's not happening."
"Then I can initiate an emergency hold."
Eva's blood ran cold. This was it—the system Katerina and Grayson wielded so expertly, turning bureaucracy into a weapon.
"Who sent you?" Alessandro asked, stepping away from the banister.
The woman's lips curved in a tiny, victorious smile. She didn't answer. Instead, she moved toward the hallway. "I'll see the child now."
Eva shifted, blocking her path. "You take one step toward her room without a court order, and I'll introduce you to my lawyer. His name is Alessandro Bianchi. He's very expensive and exceptionally petty."
Alessandro picked up the thread without missing a beat, moving to stand beside Eva, a united front. "She's not wrong. Here's what's going into my report," he said, his voice dropping to a conversational, almost friendly tone that was more terrifying than a shout. "You entered without a warrant, harassed the victim of a documented kidnapping based on falsified evidence, and are now attempting to separate a traumatized infant from her primary caregiver. My team of attorneys—three of them, just for this—are already drafting the complaint. They're very creative with words like 'malfeasance' and 'career-ending lawsuit.'"
The agent's smugness cracked. Just a fraction, a twitch in her jaw.
"Your choice," Alessandro murmured, leaning in. "Leave now, and we'll forget this overzealousness. Or push it, and I ensure you spend the rest of your career investigating pet custody disputes in Staten Island."
The silence was absolute. Finally, the woman straightened her blazer, a defeated gesture. "We'll be in touch."
"I'll have my people call your people," Alessandro said without a hint of a smile.
The door shut, and the tension in the foyer didn't break; it just changed shape.
"Someone's pulling strings," Alessandro muttered, already on his phone.
Eva's hand went to her pocket, the crinkle of Hanna's note a whisper against her fingers. Trust no one. Not even Alessandro. For the first time, she wondered if the warning wasn't about the past, but a manual for the war they were in.
***
In the sunroom, a different kind of tension unfolded. Sophia sat on the rug, solemnly examining her fox while Camila murmured to her in soft Spanish. Eva watched from the doorway, a knot of protective anxiety in her chest.
It was shattered by a familiar, slimy drawl.
"Hey, baby."
Giovanni strolled in from the patio, a hurricane of expensive cologne and unearned confidence. Sophia didn't giggle or coo. She froze, her little face crumpling, and let out a sharp, terrified wail.
Eva was across the room in a heartbeat. "What did you do?"
Giovanni held up his hands, his grin lazy. "Just said hi. Guess I'm not baby-whisperer material like you, sweetheart."
"Don't call me that."
Camila had already scooped Sophia up, rocking her with a quiet efficiency that Eva noted with grudging relief.
Giovanni's smirk shifted, turning sharper, more malicious. "Better put on your game face. Mamma's coming to dinner."
The stone of dread in Eva's stomach grew heavier. "Why?"
"Maybe she misses her favorite son."
"You're not her favorite anything."
He shrugged. "Maybe she's here for the baby. You know how she gets when she smells a weak link."
Before Eva could retort, Alessandro entered, his expression hardening the second he saw his brother. "Giovanni. You're polluting my air."
"I told your girlfriend—" Giovanni began.
"Co-guardian," Alessandro and Eva snapped in unison. They glanced at each other, surprised by the harmony.
Giovanni's grin widened. "—that Mom is on her way. And…" he paused for dramatic effect, savoring the chaos, "…she's inviting the Ivanovas, too."
Eva's head snapped toward him. "What?"
"She's a traditionalist. Wants to meet the whole… messy family."
Alessandro's gaze was volcanic. "Since when do you speak for her?"
"Since she called me from the airport." Giovanni's tone was dripping with satisfaction. "Bypassed you completely. Must sting."
The revelation hung in the air—a blatant power play from Marcella. Alessandro looked genuinely blindsided, which sent a fresh wave of unease through Eva. If he wasn't in control, then no one was.
Giovanni gave a mock salute. "Don't shoot the messenger. My work here is done." He sauntered out, leaving a trail of chaos in his wake.
Eva turned to Alessandro. "She went to him first."
"She's reminding me where the power lies," he said, his voice tight.
"And you're just going to let her?"
He stepped closer, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "I'm going to show her that the power here is mine. We'll give her a dinner she won't forget."
The plan was already forming in Eva's mind, a mix of dread and defiance, when the study door creaked open.
Leonardo, Alessandro's unflappable housekeeper, stood there pale and trembling. "Signore… forgive me. There is a man at the gate."
Alessandro's patience was clearly gone. "And?"
"He did not knock. He simply… stood there. I have never… he is a very scary-looking man, Signore." Leonardo's eyes were wide, fixed on Eva. "He asks for Miss Ivanova."
A cold recognition washed over Eva. Only one person inspired that kind of fear by just standing still.
"Is he holding two bloody knives and complaining about the coffee?" she asked, her voice dry.
Leonardo blinked, confused. "N-no, Signore."
"Huh. He's in a good mood, then," Eva muttered. She looked at Alessandro. "It's Mikael."
Alessandro's jaw tightened. "Your family moves fast."
"We don't believe in RSVPs. We believe in showing up." She headed for the door. "Let's go see what my cousin wants. Hopefully, he just needs a cup of sugar. Or to borrow a bullet."
As she walked out, she heard Alessandro behind her, issuing a quiet order to Leonardo. "Double the guards on the nursery. And for God's sake, don't offer him any coffee. He's a critic."
The door shut behind them, leaving the world of CPS and courtly manners behind. Now, it was time for the family business.