TAKE A PICTURE OF US, DIANE. I WANT TO REMEMBER THE NIGHT HE FINALLY CHOSE ME.” THE MAFIA BOSS'S MISTRESS HANDED HIS WIFE A PHONE IN THEIR OWN LIVING ROOM—BUT WHEN HER HUSBAND PUT HIS ARM AROUND THE YOUNGER WOMAN, HIS WIFE ASKED HIM TO DO ONE LAST THING

Standing at the top of the stairs, holding a smoking shotgun, was Marcus.

The basement went dead silent, save for Vincent’s groans of pain as he writhed on the concrete floor. His men were down, either dead or too injured to fight.

Marcus walked down the stairs slowly. He didn't look like a driver anymore. He looked like an executioner.

He kicked Vincent’s dropped gun across the room, then knelt beside Daniel, pulling a heavy combat knife to slash the ropes binding him to the chair.

“Marcus,” Daniel wheezed, slumping forward into his old friend’s arms. “You came.”

“I told you thirty years ago, boss,” Marcus rumbled. “I protect the family.”

He looked up at me. “Are you hurt, Susan?”

“No,” I breathed, still clutching the unsigned deeds.

I helped Marcus pull Daniel to his feet. My husband leaned heavily on me, his breathing ragged.

Vincent let out a wet, coughing laugh from the floor, clutching his bleeding shoulder.

“You think this changes anything?” Vincent spat, glaring at his brother. “I have a hundred men outside the city. The Rossi family won't stop until you’re dead, Danny.”

Daniel looked down at his brother. The fear that had plagued him for weeks was gone, replaced by a profound, exhausted clarity.

“Let them come,” Daniel said. “I’m done running.”

Daniel looked at me. “Susan, give me the deeds.”

I hesitated. “Daniel, if you tear them up, they’ll kill you.”

“I’m not tearing them up.”

I handed him the rolled parchment. Daniel took my pen.

He didn't sign them over to the Rossi family. He didn't sign them over to his own company.

He walked unsteadily to the wooden crate, smoothed out the paper, and signed his name on the line releasing all marital claims.

He handed the deeds back to me.

“They’re yours, Susan,” he whispered. “Legally, unequivocally yours. I relinquish all control.”

I stared at him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m giving you the leverage,” Daniel said, wiping blood from his chin. He turned to Vincent.

“Listen to me, Vince,” Daniel said, his voice echoing in the dark room. “My wife owns the waterfront. Not me. Not the mafia. A clean, legitimate civilian. If anything happens to her, or to me, the deeds are locked in a trust that automatically donates the land to the city of Chicago for public parks. The mob loses the ports. Forever.”

Vincent’s face went pale. He knew a dead man switch when he heard one.

“You’re bluffing,” Vincent hissed.

“Try me,” I stepped forward, finding a strength I didn't know I possessed. “You leave Chicago tonight, Vincent. You leave Victoria and her son alone. If I ever see a Rossi on my property again, I sign the papers to the mayor’s office, and you can explain to the Five Families why you lost their shipping routes.”

Vincent stared at me with pure, unadulterated hatred. But he knew he was beaten.

Marcus hauled Vincent to his feet by his good arm. “I’ll escort him to his car,” Marcus said grimly. “And make sure he drives out of state.”

As Marcus dragged the bleeding boss up the stairs, Daniel and I were left alone in the cold basement.

The adrenaline began to fade, replaced by a crushing wave of reality.

My husband was battered, broken, and no longer a crime boss. He was just a man.

He slid down the wall, sitting on the cold floor, and looked up at me.

“You saved my life,” he said softly.

“You tried to save mine,” I replied.

I knelt beside him. He reached out to touch my face, but I gently caught his wrist and stopped him.

He looked at my hand holding his. The realization washed over his bruised face.

“Susan... I love you.”

“I know you do, Daniel.” I looked at the man I had spent thirty years with. “But love doesn't make you lie. Love doesn't make you trade your wife’s peace of mind for business.”

“I can fix it,” he begged, tears mixing with the blood on his cheeks. “We can start over. No mafia. No secrets. Just us.”

I reached into my coat pocket.

I pulled out my father’s silver rosary. The one Daniel had dropped from his coat.

I placed it in his bruised palm and closed his fingers around it.