My boss’s six-year-old son pointed at me in a hallway full of dangerous men and announced that I was too beautiful to be alone, so I should become his mommy. Everyone expected Adrian Kane, Manhattan’s most feared crime boss, to shut him down, but instead he asked one quiet question, and his little boy’s answer wiped every trace of color from his face.

The lobby was a war zone.

Glass shattered across the marble floors. Two of Eleanor’s guards lay groaning near the security desk, subdued by David’s men who had arrived ahead of us.

“Stay behind me,” David ordered, his gun raised as we approached the private elevator.

I held Noah so tightly my arms ached. The six-year-old was incredibly brave, his face buried in my shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut.

We rode the elevator to the penthouse level in agonizing silence. The ding of the doors opening sounded like a bomb going off.

The hallway leading to the boardroom was lined with armed men. When they saw David, a few raised their weapons, but David didn't flinch.

“I have the ledger,” David yelled, holding up the gold microchip. “The bosses want to see this before they vote!”

The men exchanged nervous glances. No one wanted to cross the Five Families. Slowly, they lowered their weapons and stepped aside.

I pushed open the massive double doors of the boardroom.

The room was vast, lined with mahogany and leather. Five elderly, terrifying men sat at the long table, smoking cigars and sipping scotch.

At the head of the table stood Eleanor Kane, looking triumphant.

But my eyes instantly fell to the corner of the room.

Adrian was on his knees, his hands zip-tied behind his back. His white shirt was soaked in blood from the gunshot wound to his side, his face bruised and battered. Marcus stood behind him, a gun pressed to the back of Adrian’s head.

When Adrian saw me walk through those doors, the stoic acceptance of his death shattered.

“Clara, no!” he roared, fighting wildly against his restraints. “Get her out of here! Run!”

“Silence,” one of the bosses, an ancient man with a scarred face, rasped. He looked at me, his eyes narrowing. “Who is this woman interrupting our vote, Eleanor?”

Eleanor’s face was purple with rage. “She’s a nobody! A secretary! Kill her, Marcus!”

Marcus raised his gun toward me.

Before he could fire, David stepped into the light, aiming his weapon directly at Marcus’s chest. “You shoot her, you die before the shell hits the floor.”

The old boss raised a hand, signaling Marcus to stop. “You mentioned a ledger, boy. Speak.”

I didn't wait for David to talk. I marched forward, my heels clicking loudly on the hardwood floor, projecting a confidence I didn't feel.

“My name is Clara,” I said, slamming the hard drive and the gold microchip onto the center of the mahogany table. “My mother was your chief accountant twelve years ago. She didn't run away. She was murdered by Eleanor Kane.”

The room went dead silent.

“Lies!” Eleanor shrieked. “She’s a hysterical whore trying to save her boss!”

“Plug it in,” I demanded, looking directly at the oldest boss. “The chip decrypts the drive. It proves Eleanor has been siphoning millions from your ports, your casinos, and your offshore accounts to build her own private army. She’s trying to overthrow you, and she’s using her son as a scapegoat.”

The old man gestured to a technician in the corner. The man quickly plugged the drive and chip into a laptop connected to the room’s massive monitors.

Lines of data flooded the screen. Bank accounts, wire transfers, dates, and names. The evidence was irrefutable. It was a twelve-year trail of theft, betrayal, and blood.

The atmosphere in the room shifted from tension to pure, lethal intent.

All five bosses turned their gazes toward Eleanor.

Eleanor took a step back, her mask of arrogance finally slipping. “Wait. Wait, I can explain—”

“Take her,” the old boss said quietly.

Two men grabbed Eleanor by the arms, dragging her screaming from the room. Marcus dropped his gun, raising his hands in surrender, but David didn't hesitate. He stepped forward and struck Marcus across the temple with the butt of his gun, knocking him out cold.

The old boss looked at Adrian, then down at the floor where Noah was hiding behind my legs.

“Your father was a good man, Adrian,” the boss said slowly. “We apologize for the indignity. Your empire remains yours. Clean up your mess.”

The bosses stood and walked out of the room, leaving us alone.

I didn't wait for the doors to close. I ran to Adrian, dropping to my knees.

David quickly sliced the zip-ties with a pocket knife, freeing Adrian’s hands.

Adrian didn't care about his bleeding side. He didn't care about the boardroom. He reached out and pulled me against his chest with a desperate, crushing force, burying his face in my neck.

“I told you to run,” he choked out, his body trembling.

“You don’t get to make my schedule anymore, Mr. Kane,” I cried, wrapping my arms around him. “I quit.”

Adrian pulled back, his bloodied hands cupping my face. He looked at me with such overwhelming love it stole the breath from my lungs.

He leaned in and kissed me. It wasn't professional. It wasn't hesitant. It was a promise, sealed in fire and survival.

When we finally broke apart, Noah tugged on my sleeve.

I looked down. The little boy was smiling, his eyes bright with tears.

“Can ghosts eat crackers?” Noah whispered.