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 alleyway descended into absolute, suffocating silence.

The roar of the helicopter above seemed to fade into white noise.

I stared at Sabrina, my mind desperately trying to process the horrifying implication of her words.

Twins.

David Collins wasn't an only child.

“You’re lying,” Luca said, his voice dangerously low. But his eyes remained fixed on the diamond bracelet on Sabrina’s wrist.

“Am I?” Sabrina laughed bitterly. “My real name isn't Sabrina Vale. It’s Serena Collins. I am David’s twin sister.”

David stumbled backward, hitting the brick wall of the alley. He looked like a man who had just been struck by lightning.

“I don't have a sister,” David stammered, shaking his head. “I grew up in foster care. I was an only child!”

Sabrina looked at him, her expression a terrifying mix of sorrow and rage.

“You were an only child because Charles Whitmore separated us,” Sabrina spat, her voice thick with venom.

She turned her furious gaze toward me.

“When our mother died in that car crash, Charles found out who she really was. He panicked. He knew the Chicago syndicate would come looking for her children. But he only wanted the son. He thought a male heir would be a more valuable asset to hide. He kept David and funded his life from the shadows.”

Sabrina’s eyes filled with tears, the polished corporate spy facade finally cracking.

“He abandoned me to the state,” Sabrina wept. “He left a one-year-old girl in the foster system while he played secret savior to my brother. I bounced from group home to group home for eighteen years. I was abused. I was starved. I was nothing.”

Tears spilled over my own cheeks.

I thought about the massive twelve-million-dollar trust fund Charles had built for David. The careful monitoring. The college tuition.

And all the while, he had knowingly left an innocent baby girl to suffer in the system just because she wasn't a valuable mafia asset.

Charles hadn't just been a coward. He had been a monster.

“When I turned eighteen, I found my mother’s police file from the crash,” Sabrina continued, wiping her eyes fiercely. “I found out about Charles Whitmore. I found out about the brother who got everything while I got nothing. I swore I would destroy the man who tore our family apart.”

Sabrina looked at the diamond heirloom bracelet on her wrist.

“The police gave me my mother’s personal effects when I aged out of the system. This bracelet was the only thing I had of hers. It reminded me every day of what was stolen from me.”

She looked back at Luca, her eyes blazing with defiance.

“I spent ten years infiltrating his company. I seduced him. I drained his accounts. I orchestrated the hostile takeover. I didn't do it for the Russians, Luca. I used the Russians to get the capital I needed to crush him.”

She pointed a shaking finger at me.

“I humiliated his wife on that stage tonight to make him feel the exact same abandonment I felt when he left me to rot.”

The revelation hung in the cold night air.

Sabrina wasn't a greedy mistress. She was a broken, abandoned daughter exacting a decades-long revenge against the man who destroyed her life.

And I couldn't even blame her.

Luca stared at Sabrina for a long time. The anger in his eyes slowly melted into a profound, heavy sorrow.

He didn't see an enemy anymore. He saw a victim of his family’s tragic legacy.

Luca turned to his men.

“Lower your weapons,” Luca ordered quietly.

The heavily armed men immediately lowered their rifles.

“What are you doing?” Sabrina asked, stepping back, confused.

Luca walked up to her. He didn't raise a hand. He simply looked at the woman who shared his bloodline.

“Charles Whitmore stole your life, Serena,” Luca said softly, using her real name. “He stole your brother. He stole your family. And you had every right to seek justice against him.”

Luca looked at David, who was still reeling by the wall, staring at the twin sister he never knew he had.

“But if you hand this company over to the Russians,” Luca continued, turning back to Sabrina, “you aren't seeking justice. You’re just trading one monster for another. And they will kill David to ensure he can never claim the Chicago throne.”

Sabrina swallowed hard, her eyes darting between Luca and David. The reality of her alliance with the Bratva was finally hitting her.

“They promised me they wouldn't hurt him,” Sabrina whispered, her voice cracking. “They just wanted the real estate.”

“The Russians lie,” Luca said grimly. “You know that.”

Luca reached out, offering his hand to her.

“You are a Moretti,” Luca said, his voice ringing with absolute sincerity. “You have our blood. Come home with us. Let me protect you and your brother. Let the syndicate handle the Russians.”

Sabrina stared at his outstretched hand.

For a moment, I thought she was going to take it. I thought the nightmare was finally over.

But then, Sabrina’s eyes hardened.

She looked past Luca, her gaze locking onto me.

“I don't need your protection, Luca,” Sabrina sneered, the bitterness returning with a vengeance. “And I don't want your family. I just want my revenge.”

Sabrina reached into her pristine white trench coat.

She wasn't reaching for a weapon.

She pulled out a small, black remote detonator.

“I told the Russians I had the original transfer documents,” Sabrina smiled cruelly. “But I didn't. I knew Margaret had the key. So I made a contingency plan.”

My blood turned to ice.

“What did you do, Sabrina?” I demanded.

“If I can't have the company, Margaret,” Sabrina said, pressing her thumb against the red button on the remote, “nobody can.”

Sabrina smiled, a terrifying, broken smile.

“Goodbye, Whitmore Properties.”