*The Mafia Boss Brought His Mistress Into His Wife’s Home—Then Asked Her to Prepare a Room for the Woman He Loved

"Claire Romano," Carlo Marino mused over the line, his voice dripping with condescending amusement. "Vincent's quiet little housewife. I didn't think you had the stomach for this business."

"You don't know anything about my stomach, Carlo," I replied, my eyes locked on Vincent, who was watching me with a mix of awe and horror. "I have the master ledger. The deeds, the offshore routing numbers, the blackmail files Vincent has been holding over the city aldermen. Everything."

The amusement vanished from Carlo's voice. "Vincent wouldn't be stupid enough to let you have that."

"Vincent is currently standing in his study with a gun pointed at him by your sister, Natalie," I said casually.

I heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end. "Natalie is there?"

"She is. And she's very upset," I said. "Here are my terms. You bring Mia and Leo to the Navy Pier loading docks in thirty minutes. Unharmed. I will hand over the ledger and the legal transfer documents for the empire. If you refuse, or if my daughter is hurt, I will burn the ledger, and Natalie will put a bullet in my husband's chest."

Carlo was silent for a long moment. He was calculating the odds. A mafia boss values land and leverage above all else.

"Thirty minutes," Carlo agreed. "Come alone."

I hung up the phone.

"You're insane," Vincent breathed. "He'll kill you the second you hand over that book."

"He won't," I said, picking up the heavy ledger. "Because I'm not bringing the real one. I'm bringing a fake I compiled last year."

I looked at Natalie. "Keep your gun on him. If I am not back in two hours, shoot him in the leg and call the police."

Natalie nodded, her expression hardening into absolute resolve.

I grabbed my keys and walked out the front door. The rain was coming down in sheets, soaking my slippers, but I didn't care. I got into my Volvo, tossed the ledger onto the passenger seat, and sped toward the docks.

The Navy Pier loading docks were deserted at this hour, illuminated only by the harsh orange glow of the sodium lights. The rain lashed against my windshield.

A black SUV was parked near the edge of the water.

I pulled up twenty yards away, grabbed the ledger, and stepped out into the storm.

The doors of the SUV opened. Four armed men stepped out, followed by Carlo Marino. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a scarred jaw. He didn't look triumphant. He looked exhausted, and deeply on edge.

"Where is she?" I yelled over the rain.

Carlo walked forward, holding his hands open.

"I don't have her, Claire," Carlo said.

I froze. "What?"

"I don't have Mia," Carlo repeated, his voice strained. "The exchange went south. She was like a wild animal. She smashed a glass bottle over my lieutenant's head, grabbed the boy, and ran into the rail yards. My men couldn't find her."

My heart hammered in my chest. "Vincent said you took her. He showed me her bloody bracelet."

"I ripped the bracelet off her wrist trying to stop her," Carlo said. "But she got away. I came here tonight because I thought you were bringing the boy back to me in exchange for the empire."

The world spun. Vincent had lied again. Mia was out there in the storm, alone, hunted by both families.

Suddenly, a bright pair of headlights blinded us.

A battered pickup truck sped onto the docks, skidding sideways on the wet pavement.

The door kicked open.

Mia stepped out.

Her hair was matted to her face, her clothes soaked and stained with blood. But she stood tall, completely unbowed.

And in her hand, she wasn't holding a baby. She was holding a heavy, steel revolver.