AT MY HUSBAND’S BLACK-TIE GALA AT THE PLAZA HOTEL, HIS MISTRESS WALKED DOWN THE GRAND STAIRCASE WEARING THE RUBY NECKLACE I SOLD TO SAVE HIS COMPANY—THEN OUR 26-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER WHISPERED, “MOM, PLEASE DON'T LEAVE. YOU NEED TO HEAR WHAT DAD IS ABOUT TO ANNOUNCE.”**

The reality of Luca's words hit me like a physical blow.

Sabrina wasn't done. She needed the silver key to finalize the theft of our company, and she needed David to leverage the Chicago mafia.

And right now, I was holding the only thing standing between her and absolute control.

“Bring Charles inside,” I told Luca, my voice remarkably steady despite the terror coursing through my veins. “We need to get him patched up before we figure out how to get to David.”

Luca nodded sharply. He opened the back door and signaled into the darkness.

A moment later, two large men in dark suits carried Charles into the kitchen. He was pale, sweating profusely, and clutching a blood-soaked bandage pressed against his left shoulder.

“Dad!” Emily cried, rushing forward.

Thomas helped the men lower Charles into a chair at the kitchen table.

Charles looked up. His eyes were glassy, but they focused when he saw me.

“Margaret,” Charles wheezed, his voice weak. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Save it, Charles,” I said coldly, walking over to him. I wasn't going to let him die, but I wasn't going to forgive him either. “Did you tell Sabrina about David?”

Charles shook his head weakly. “No. She found the trust fund documents in my private safe... along with the ruby necklace. She put the pieces together.”

He looked at Luca, who was standing by the island.

“She knows David is the heir. She’s going to use him to force the Chicago families to surrender their territory.”

Luca’s jaw clenched. “Not if I find him first.”

Luca turned to his medic. “Can he travel?”

“He needs a hospital, boss,” the medic said grimly. “The bullet went straight through, but he’s lost a lot of blood.”

“We can't take him to a hospital,” Luca said. “Sabrina has eyes everywhere. The moment he’s admitted, she’ll know exactly where we are.”

I looked at the silver key in my hand.

If Sabrina needed this key, she would tear the city apart looking for me. If she needed David, she would tear Brooklyn apart looking for him.

I couldn't let an innocent young man die because of my husband’s lies. And I refused to let the woman who humiliated me steal the company I helped build.

“Luca,” I said, stepping toward the mafia boss. “I know how to get to David before Sabrina does.”

Luca turned to me, his dark eyes narrowing. “How?”

“David doesn't know who you are,” I pointed out. “If a group of heavily armed men show up at his apartment in the middle of the night, he’s going to run. But he knows Charles. And he knows me.”

“He knows you?” Charles coughed, looking surprised.

“I paid for his college tuition from the company’s scholarship fund, Charles,” I said bitterly. “I thought I was helping a bright young orphan from Brooklyn. I met him twice at the scholarship dinners. He trusts me.”

I looked back at Luca.

“I will go to Brooklyn. I will bring David out quietly. You take Charles and my children to your safehouse in the city. When I have David, I’ll bring him to you.”

“Mom, no!” Thomas argued, stepping in front of me. “You’re not going alone! It’s too dangerous!”

“I’m not asking, Thomas,” I said with a finality that brooked no argument. “I am protecting this family. Something your father stopped doing years ago.”

Luca studied my face for a long moment. He saw the fierce, unyielding determination of a mother protecting her children.

“You’re a brave woman, Margaret,” Luca said softly.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a heavy, dark wool coat. He draped it over my shoulders.

“It’s freezing outside. Wear this. It has a tracker sewn into the lining. If you run into trouble, press the emergency beacon in the left pocket. My men will be there in three minutes.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, pulling the heavy coat tight around myself.

“Take my car,” Luca offered, tossing me a set of keys to a black, unmarked sedan parked in the driveway. “It’s armored.”

I nodded. I hugged Emily and Thomas tightly, making them promise to stay close to Luca’s men. I didn't look at Charles as I walked out the back door.

I climbed into the armored sedan, started the engine, and drove out into the dark Hamptons night, heading straight back to the city.

The drive was agonizing. My mind raced with images of Sabrina, of David, of the empire teetering on the edge of collapse.

I reached Brooklyn just before 3:00 AM.

The streets were desolate. I parked two blocks away from the address written on the back of David’s photograph. 142 Atlantic Ave.

I walked briskly through the cold night air, the heavy wool coat shielding me from the bitter wind.

The building was a modest brick walk-up above a closed coffee shop.

I found the side entrance and scanned the intercom directory. Apt 3B - D. Collins.

I pressed the buzzer.

Nothing.

I pressed it again, holding it down.

A groggy, confused voice crackled through the speaker. “Hello? Who is it?”

“David,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s Margaret Whitmore. Charles’s wife. I need you to let me in. It’s an emergency.”

A long silence followed.

Then, the heavy security door buzzed open.

I pushed inside and hurried up the narrow, creaking stairs to the third floor.

The door to apartment 3B was slightly ajar.

I stepped inside. The apartment was small but neat.

David stood in the center of the living room, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, looking completely bewildered. Up close, the resemblance to Charles was undeniable, but the intensity in his eyes was entirely Moretti.

“Mrs. Whitmore?” David asked, running a hand through his dark hair. “What are you doing here at three in the morning? Is Charles okay?”

“Charles is hurt, David,” I said, stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind me. “But we don't have much time to explain. There are people coming for you tonight. Dangerous people. You have to come with me right now.”

David frowned, taking a step back. “Dangerous people? Why would anyone be coming for me?”

Before I could answer, a loud, heavy crash echoed from the stairwell outside.

Someone had just kicked in the security door downstairs.

Heavy, tactical footsteps began thundering up the wooden stairs.

“They’re here,” I breathed, pure panic seizing my chest.

David didn't ask any more questions. He grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the back of the apartment.

“Out the fire escape,” David whispered urgently.

He threw open the kitchen window, pushing me out onto the rusted metal grating. He climbed out right behind me, pulling the window shut just as the front door of his apartment was kicked open with a deafening crash.

We scrambled down the cold, rusted stairs into the dark alleyway below.

“This way,” David said, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the street.

But as we rounded the corner of the brick building, blinding headlights flooded the alley.

Two black SUVs blocked the exit.

Four heavily armed men stepped out of the vehicles, raising suppressed weapons directly at us.

And stepping out of the passenger side of the lead SUV, wearing a pristine white trench coat, was Sabrina Vale.

She smiled, a cold, victorious smirk.

“Hello, Margaret,” Sabrina said smoothly. “I knew Charles would send his loyal, obedient wife to do his dirty work.”

She looked at David, her eyes lighting up with greedy satisfaction.