My mafia boss husband's mistress had destroyed my marriage. My pregnant sister had threatened my son. And now, in the darkness of our mansion, a woman was telling me that my mother was still alive.

“Hello, big sister,” Claire smiled.

She looked thinner, the baby bump now completely gone. She wore a sleek black trench coat, her eyes hollow and dark with a madness that made my skin crawl.

Vincent was sitting in his wheelchair, perfectly still. He didn’t look afraid. He looked furiously, violently angry at his own physical weakness.

“Let the boy go, Claire,” Vincent rasped, his voice low and dangerous.

“Or what, Vincent?” Claire mocked, stepping closer to him. “You’ll shoot me? You can barely hold a coffee cup, let alone a gun. You’re pathetic.”

I stepped forward, my hands raised.

“Claire, please. You have witness protection. You have your freedom. What do you want?”

“I want my son!” Claire screamed, the polite facade shattering.

I froze. “Your son?”

“Dominic’s baby,” she sobbed, her hand instinctively touching her flat stomach. “The feds took him when he was born. They put him in the system. They said a convicted felon couldn't raise a child in protective custody.”

She yanked Anthony closer to her.

“You took my family, Evelyn. You took my empire. So I’m taking yours.”

Rose kept the gun trained on Vincent. “Move toward the door, Evelyn. All of you. We have a private jet waiting.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I said, planting my feet.

Claire laughed, pressing the barrel of a small revolver against Anthony’s back.

“Yes, you are. Because if you don’t, I will shoot this boy in front of you, and then I will put a bullet in Vincent’s good lung.”

I looked at Vincent.

He met my eyes. He gave me a barely perceptible nod.

Fight.

My mother stepped out of the kitchen, her hands raised in surrender.

“Take me, Claire,” my mother said calmly. “I orchestrated the whole thing. I faked my death. I lied to Alberto. I gave the feds the ledger. Evelyn didn’t do anything. Punish me.”

Claire sneered at the woman who had raised her.

“I plan to. But you’re all coming.”

“No, they aren't,” a new voice echoed from the front door.

Everyone froze.

Agent Reynolds stepped into the foyer.

But he wasn't holding an FBI badge. He was holding a suppressed submachine gun, aimed directly at Rose.

“Drop the weapon, Rose,” Reynolds ordered coldly.

Rose panicked. She swung her gun toward the FBI agent.

It was a fatal mistake.

Reynolds fired twice. The silenced rounds hit Rose in the chest. She collapsed onto the expensive rug, dead before she hit the floor.

Claire screamed, raising her revolver toward Reynolds.

But as she lifted her arm, Vincent lunged forward from his wheelchair.

With a surge of adrenaline, Vincent grabbed Claire’s wrist, twisting it violently. The gun fired into the ceiling.

I didn’t hesitate.

I sprinted across the room, tackling my sister to the floor.

We crashed hard onto the hardwood. Claire fought like a wild animal, scratching and kicking, but I was fueled by a mother’s rage. I pinned her arms down, pressing my knee into her chest.

“It’s over, Claire!” I screamed in her face.

Reynolds stepped forward, kicking Claire’s gun away. He pulled handcuffs from his belt and roughly secured her wrists.

I scrambled backward, grabbing Anthony and pulling him into a crushing hug. He buried his face in my neck, sobbing.

“You’re safe, baby,” I cried, kissing his hair. “Mommy’s got you. You’re safe.”

I looked up.

Vincent had fallen out of his wheelchair during the struggle. He was lying on the floor, gasping for air, clutching his chest.

“Vincent!” I rushed to him, helping him sit up against the sofa.

“I’m fine,” he coughed, offering a weak, triumphant smile. “Just… out of practice.”

My mother rushed over with a glass of water.

I looked up at Agent Reynolds, who was dragging a screaming, cursing Claire to her feet.

“How did you know they were here?” I asked, breathless.

Reynolds looked at my mother.

“Your mother called me ten minutes ago, Mrs. Moretti,” Reynolds said. “She found the GPS tracker in the coat at the dry cleaners yesterday. She knew Claire was coming. She planted the bracelet in the closet today to trigger the alarm we set up in the building.”

I stared at my mother in shock.

“You knew?” I whispered.

My mother knelt beside me, her eyes filled with tears, but her smile was warm and genuine.

“I told you, Evelyn,” she said softly. “I will never let anyone hurt my daughter again.”

Reynolds hauled Claire toward the door.

“She broke her immunity deal,” Reynolds said grimly. “She’s going to a federal supermax. She’ll never see the sun again.”

As they dragged her out, Claire locked eyes with me. There was no more arrogance. Only total, crushing defeat.

The door closed behind them.

The nightmare was finally, truly over.

I sat on the floor of the penthouse, surrounded by the people I loved most.

Vincent reached out, his scarred hand wrapping gently around mine.

“We made it, Evie,” he whispered.