“She eats upstairs,” the mafia boss’s fiancée said, lifting his mother’s dinner plate.

"Don't answer," Vincent whispered harshly, but the line was already dead.

Vanessa had leverage. She didn’t have Lily, but she wanted us to think she did. Or worse, she had somehow found the safehouse in Maine before we could.

"She’s bluffing," Rosa said, her good hand gripping the armrest of her chair. "She doesn't know where the safehouse is. She wants the child to force Marco to stay with her."

"I'm not risking it," I said, my voice shaking but resolute. "I'm going to the docks."

"You're not going anywhere alone," Vincent said, checking the magazine of his gun and slamming it back into the grip. "Marco controls the South Pier. That's where they'll be."

We left Rosa in the mansion with heavily armed guards, keeping Mia safely tucked away in the master bedroom. Vincent drove like a madman, the SUV tearing through the rain-slicked streets of the city.

When we reached the South Pier, the fog was rolling in thick off the water. Shipping containers towered around us like metal canyons.

"Stay behind me," Vincent ordered, stepping out of the car.

We moved through the shadows of the containers. The smell of salt and rust filled the air. Up ahead, a single floodlight illuminated a small clearing near the water's edge.

Vanessa stood there, wrapped in a long trench coat, holding an umbrella. Marco stood slightly behind her, looking miserable and terrified.

"Where is the child?" Vanessa called out into the dark.

Vincent stepped into the light, pulling me with him. "You don't get the kid, Vanessa. It's over."

Vanessa laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. "You think you’re so smart, Vincent. You think you protect this family. But you don't even know what’s happening in your own home."

"I know you tried to exile my mother to steal my money," Vincent said smoothly.

"Your money?" Vanessa spat. She reached into her coat and pulled out a stack of documents, throwing them onto the wet pavement. "Your mother has been draining the accounts for years! Not just for the baker girl. For him."

She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at Marco.

"What is she talking about?" Vincent asked, looking at his brother.

Marco stepped forward, tears mixing with the rain on his face. "Vince... I'm sorry. I owe money. A lot of money. To the Chicago outfit. Ma was trying to pay them off so they wouldn't kill me."

Vincent froze. The betrayal wasn't just Vanessa's greed. It was his own brother selling them out to a rival family.

Before Vincent could react, the doors of the shipping container behind Vanessa swung open.

Three men stepped out, holding assault rifles. But they weren't aiming at Vincent.