But then her eyes drifted—against her will—toward the third man.
Luciano Mancini.
He had been watching her the whole time, a faint frown etched between his brows, those cold, unreadable blue eyes fixed on her. He leaned back in his chair, expression turning even more impassive.
“No,” he said, and his tone was even colder than ever.
“I don’t think this application is a genuine one.”
Rosa’s heart dropped.
Every bit of hope she had been holding onto was shattered.
She closed her eyes for a moment—just to steady herself.
“Luciano, what are you saying? The file clearly states the child needs immediate treatment, and the expense is far too much for her to bear. Not even someone with a decent salary could afford it without the charity fund,” Mr. Moretti argued. He knew Rosa was Luciano’s
