I WAS POURING CHAMPAGNE WHEN LUCA MORETTI’S SISTER TOOK THE MICROPHONE AND SAID TO HIS LATE BROTHER’S WIDO

The fake waiter screamed in rage.

He lunged toward the industrial stove, desperately trying to grab the paper before it dissolved.

But he was too late.

The thick construction paper hit the rolling, boiling water and instantly soaked through. The ink began to bleed into the broth in a murky blue cloud.

He plunged his hand into the scalding water, howling in agony as the heat blistered his skin. He pulled out a soggy, disintegrated lump of mush.

The numbers were gone.

Michael’s final message was destroyed.

The man turned toward me, his face twisted in pure, murderous fury. He raised his gun, aiming it directly at my chest.

“You stupid bitch,” he hissed.

I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the impact.

BANG.

The gunshot was deafening in the tiled kitchen.

But I didn't feel any pain.

I opened my eyes.

The fake waiter was staring down at a blooming red stain on his white shirt. The gun slipped from his hand, clattering onto the floor, and he collapsed forward into the stainless steel counter.

Standing in the doorway, breathing heavily, with his tuxedo jacket discarded and a smoking pistol in his hand, was Luca.

He didn't waste a single second checking on the man he had just killed. He rushed directly to us, sliding to his knees beside Ethan.

“Are you hurt?” Luca demanded, his hands frantically checking Ethan and Rachel for injuries.

“We’re fine,” Rachel sobbed, collapsing against his shoulder. “Luca, Emma threw the account numbers in the boiling water. The drawing is gone.”

Luca looked at me. His dark eyes were wide, taking in what I had just done.

Most mob bosses would have executed me on the spot for destroying millions of dollars.

Luca Moretti reached out, grabbed my shoulder, and gave it a firm, grounding squeeze.

“You did exactly what you had to do to keep them alive,” Luca said. “Thank you.”

My hands were shaking so violently I couldn’t speak. I just nodded.

“Where is Marcus?” Rachel asked, pulling back to look at her brother-in-law.

“He got out,” Luca said, his voice hardening into steel. “My men engaged his plants in the ballroom, but Marcus slipped out through the conservatory doors. He’s in the wind.”

“What about his threat?” Rachel panicked, looking around frantically. “He said he had men at my house!”

“I’ve already dispatched a team,” Luca assured her, standing up and pulling her with him. “Your house is secure. But you can never go back there. None of us are safe until Marcus is in the ground.”

The service elevator finally dinged, the heavy doors sliding open to reveal the empty, dimly lit car.

“Get in,” Luca ordered. “We’re going to the safe room in the sub-basement.”

We rushed into the elevator. Luca hit the button for the lowest floor and swiped a specialized key card. The doors closed, sealing us in a metal box.

As the elevator descended, the adrenaline began to wear off, leaving behind a cold, hollow terror.

Rachel held Ethan tightly against her side. The boy was eerily quiet, his eyes staring blankly at the metal floor.

“Luca,” Rachel said softly, the fight completely drained from her voice. “Michael hid the money from Marcus. And now it’s gone. What does Marcus do now?”

Luca ran a hand through his dark hair, the weight of his empire crushing down on him.

“Without those account numbers, Marcus has no leverage over the other families,” Luca explained grimly. “He thought he could buy his way to the head of the table. Now, he’s a rogue traitor with no funds to pay his mercenaries.”

“So he’ll run?” I asked, finally finding my voice.

Luca shook his head.

“No. He’ll burn everything down on his way out. He knows I will hunt him to the ends of the earth for what he did to Michael. His only chance at survival is to eliminate the entire Moretti bloodline tonight, before my loyalists can mobilize.”

The elevator jerked to a halt.

The doors slid open.

The sub-basement wasn’t a parking garage. It was a concrete bunker, retrofitted with thick steel walls, a private generator, and a massive vault door that looked like it belonged in a federal bank.

We stepped out into the dim emergency lighting.

But as we walked toward the vault door, Luca suddenly stopped.

He raised his gun, pointing it into the shadows near the corner of the room.

“Step out into the light,” Luca commanded.

My heart leaped into my throat. Had Marcus’s men already breached the safe room?

A figure slowly stepped out from behind a concrete pillar.

She was wearing a stunning, silver silk gown, though the hem was torn and covered in dust. Her perfect blonde hair was disheveled, and she was holding a pair of expensive high heels in one hand.

It was Siena.

Luca’s fiancée.

The woman he was supposed to be celebrating tonight.

“Siena?” Luca lowered his weapon slightly, confused. “How did you get down here? The lockdown protocol sealed the stairs.”

Siena didn’t run to him for comfort. She didn’t look terrified.

She just smiled.

It was a cold, empty smile that made my blood run cold.

“I didn’t take the stairs, darling,” Siena said softly. “I used the private elevator. The one you gave me access to yesterday.”

She dropped her high heels onto the concrete floor.

Then, she reached into the folds of her silver dress and pulled out a sleek, suppressed handgun.

She aimed it directly at Rachel’s chest.