Within a few days, the news of Milo’s sudden wealth had become the talk of the town at the Portello mansion. Who would have thought that the frail, poor young man who was set to become Salvatore’s new bodyguard had now become the richest among them?

The staff and the guards found the turn of events deeply amusing. Nobody could believe it, but they were happy and teased Milo about it.

"Well, look who it is," Luke boomed from behind the kitchen island one morning, holding a large wooden spatula. "The new Boss has graced us with his presence. Do I need to bow before I serve your eggs, Mr. Hartley, or will a simple nod suffice?"

Milo’s face turned bright red as he sat down at the wooden table. "Please don’t call me that, Luke. I’m still just Milo."

"Oh, nonsense," Stella chimed in, setting down a fresh pitcher of juice while nudging Milo’s shoulder playfully. "I heard from the guards that you own many companies now. You should buy us a new freezer for the pantry. The current one makes a terrible rattling noise at midnight."

Milo smiled shyly, dipping his toast into the egg yolk. "If Sir Salvatore allows it, I can do it." He spoke seriously.

"What did you say, Stella? We have good freezers here!" Maureen disliked how Stella spoke as if Salvatore couldn’t afford it.

Stella just grinned. "I’m joking, Maureen!"

"Don’t let Salvatore hear you say that," Michelle laughed from the sink. "He’ll make you audit the entire kitchen budget just to prove a point."

While the banter at the mansion was warm and familiar, the actual work was a different matter entirely.

Every morning, a black car would take Milo downtown to the main Hartley office building. The sheer scale of the responsibility was terrifying to him.

He spent his hours reviewing documents he knew nothing about, signing checks and documents, and listening to senior managers explain things through the dull, persistent ringing in his ears.

Many times, he was so scared that he wished Salvatore were there. But the man seemed to let him go by himself. Liam would always accompany him with a new bodyguard.

Still, the intense daily anxiety of running the company completely consumed his mind.

He was so busy managing his fear of failure, his dread of looking foolish in front of the directors, and his confusion over the legal documents that he became temporarily distracted from his intense feelings for Salvatore.

He didn’t have the emotional energy to obsess over the man. He was simply trying to survive the stack of folders on his desk without fainting.

Milo still completely refused to sleep at the Portello estate, viewing it as a cold, haunted house tied to his past.

Because of this, Liam, the young blonde executive who had been appointed as Milo’s personal administrative tutor, had no choice but to travel to the Portello mansion every morning to pick up Milo.

The first time Liam stepped through the heavy iron gates of the Portello estate, his face was completely drained of color. He walked up the stone steps as if he were marching directly toward his own execution.

He knew the reputation of the Portello family, and he knew that Salvatore had systematically wiped out the Hartley bloodline in a single night.

To Liam, this mansion was the center of a lethal empire, and he was a civilian walking into a den of wolves.

He sat stiffly on the plush sofa in the security room separate from the main mansion, his leather briefcase pressed tightly against his knees, his eyes darting toward the guards standing silently by the long windows. His chest felt tight with suffocating nervousness.

The main door opened, and Milo walked into the room. He didn’t look like a ruthless corporate raider; he looked completely cheerful, his brown hair neatly combed, with a cheerful expression on his face.

"Good morning, Liam!" Milo greeted him happily, his voice clear. He noticed the stiff, terrified posture of the blonde executive and immediately felt a wave of sympathy.

Before Liam could even stand up to offer a formal corporate bow, Milo held out a small silver tray he had brought from the kitchen.

On it were two thick slices of crusty bread, a wedge of fresh white cheese, and a small bowl of fruit.

"You look like you didn’t have time to eat before the drive. Luke made the bread this morning. It’s still warm."

Liam stared at the tray, his mind going completely blank. He looked from the warm bread to Milo’s genuine, open smile, utterly confused by the gesture.

He was inside the fortress of the city’s most feared mafia don, and the new majority shareholder was offering him breakfast like a friendly neighbor.

"Thank... thank you, Mr. Hartley," Liam stammered, carefully taking a piece of the bread. His shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch, though his eyes still tracked the shadow of a guard moving past the room toward the main mansion.

"I really appreciate it, but you don’t have to give me anything, Mr. Hartley."

"You can just call me Milo," Milo said, sitting down across from him on a matching chair, his legs swinging slightly, waiting for Liam to finish all his food.

Liam didn’t dare refuse and felt extremely full from the food since he had already eaten breakfast.

"I’m so scared. Are the directors going to eat me alive?" asked Milo.

"Oh, don’t worry. They’re simply... waiting to see your next directive. I’ll try to explain everything one by one."

Milo nodded, smiling happily as he saw the tray was empty.

By the afternoon, they were back at the office after a big lunch at a restaurant that made Milo’s stomach rumble.

Despite the initial waves of panic and the goosebumps he experienced every time he walked through the lobby, the environment had become surprisingly pleasant.

He noticed that whenever he walked by, everyone smiled at him. The administrative assistants brought him fresh water without being asked, the department heads spoke to him in a soft, deferential tone, and the managers constantly praised him for no reason at all.

For a young man who had spent his entire life being treated like a broken, useless object inside Nero’s house, this sudden outpouring of kindness was incredibly overwhelming and beautiful.

Milo had been dreaming of freedom and having many friends. And it seemed that what he wanted was now coming true, one by one. He had friends now.

Milo truly believed they were all good people. Because he had never had friends or colleagues his own age, his worldview was entirely naive; he saw their polite smiles and constant agreement as genuine affection.

In reality, the staff was simply terrified of the Portello shadow looming behind his chair. They knew that three senior directors had been fired on the spot during Milo’s first hour in the building, and they were desperately trying to flatter the new boss to secure their own jobs and salaries.

They were systematically sucking up to him, but Milo was too innocent to see the manipulation.

To show his gratitude for their kindness, Milo decided to use some of the money from the ATM given to him by Salvatore.

"Liam, can we order lunch from the restaurant down the street?" Milo asked, leaning over his desk with an eager expression. "The one with the roast beef and the delicious pastries? I want to treat them."

Liam paused, his pen hovering over a note. He looked into Milo’s bright, enthusiastic hazel eyes, feeling a strange mix of professional anxiety and confusion.

"Sorry? For whom, Milo?"

"For everyone."

Liam gasped. "Milo... there are more than fifty employees. Providing catering for all of them will cost a significant amount."

"I’ll pay for it."

"But... why?"

"They worked so hard," Milo insisted, his tone soft but stubborn. "And the girl at the reception desk brought me those nice biscuits. I have the money. Salvatore said I can use it."

"Milo, sure, you can use your own money." Liam let out a small, silent sigh and nodded. "If you authorize the transaction, I will file the vouchers with the accounting department."

"Oh, what does that mean?"

"It means the expenses will be paid by the company."

"Oh, you can do that? Great!" Milo smiled broadly, completely satisfied.

"Yes, well. But I need your signature."

"Okay, let’s do that!"

An hour later, three large catering carts were pushed through the glass doors. The office staff immediately erupted into murmurs of surprise and delight, gathering around the long tables to load their plates with the food.

The senior managers quickly walked into Milo’s private office, bowing their heads with wide, exaggerated smiles.

"This is incredibly generous of you, Mr. Hartley," the head of commercial acquisitions said, his voice dripping with warmth. "Mr. Andro never provided this level of care for the staff. We are truly fortunate to have your leadership."

"Yes, absolutely," another manager chimed in, nodding vigorously. "Your vision for the employee environment is highly progressive. We are fully behind you, sir."

Milo blushed deeply, his heart pounding with a warm, happy sensation as he stood by his desk. "Thank you. I just wanted everyone to have a good lunch. You are all being very nice to me."

Liam stood in the corner of the office, his arms crossed as he watched the managers compete with each other to praise Milo’s generosity.

He knew exactly what they were doing, they were exploiting the young man’s innocence to get on his good side, ensuring their positions remained secure.

Liam glanced at Milo, who was happily chatting with a secretary about the pastry selection, looking completely safe and content.

Liam knew that this naive peace wouldn’t last forever. Eventually, Milo would have to learn the difference between real loyalty and corporate flattery.

But as he watched the young man laugh at a manager’s joke, Liam decided to keep his mouth shut for the day, letting Milo enjoy the illusion of having friends before the harsh reality of the world caught up with him.