THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE ORDERED ME TO PUTs HIS PREGNANT DAUGHTER IN A CAB BEFORE THEIR ENGAGEMENT DINNER—BUT WHEN I WALKED HER INTO THE DINING ROOM, LUCA MORETTI DROPPED HIS FORK AND WHISPERED, “YOU’RE HAVING A BABY?”

The private jet tore through the mid-morning sky, racing back toward Chicago faster than safety protocols usually allowed.

I sat strapped into a plush leather seat, watching Maria sleep peacefully on the small sofa across the aisle, heavily wrapped in warm blankets. The years of sedation had left her frail, but the fierce, unbroken matriarch was finally resting in the safety of her son's protection.

Luca sat opposite me, staring blankly out the small window at the sprawling clouds. He hadn't spoken since we left the sanitarium. The revelation that Aunt Sofia—the woman who had baked him cookies, attended every school event when his mother 'died,' and served as his closest confidante—was the true architect of the empire's destruction had utterly shattered him.

"Luca," I said softly, leaning forward.

He didn't turn his head, but his eyes flicked toward my reflection in the glass.

"We don't know for sure yet," I offered gently, trying to provide a sliver of hope. "Maybe Marco found her safe in the east wing."

Luca finally turned to face me. The exhaustion etched into his features made him look a decade older.

"Marco checked her suite ten minutes after we took off," Luca said, his voice completely hollow. "She wasn't there. Her closets were empty, and her personal safe was cleared out. She’s gone."

The confirmation hit me like a physical blow. Aunt Sofia had orchestrated everything.

"But why?" I asked, struggling to comprehend the sheer scale of the betrayal. "She’s family. She had everything."

"She had luxury, but she didn't have power," Luca explained, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "My father, Antonio, believed that women shouldn't be involved in the syndicate's business operations. He sidelined her, despite the fact that Sofia was the one who actually brokered the original peace treaties with the Five Families thirty years ago. She built the foundation, and my father took all the credit."

"She wanted the throne," I realized aloud.

"She wanted what was owed to her," Luca corrected grimly. "When my father died, she thought the Commission would recognize her contributions and name her boss. Instead, they handed the empire to me—a thirty-year-old kid. It was the ultimate insult."

"So she manipulated Arthur Bellini into thinking he could take over," I deduced, the terrifying puzzle finally complete. "She pushed Thomas to fake his death and build a rival faction. She used Vanessa to infiltrate your inner circle to find the proof that Arthur murdered your father, planning to use it to destroy the Bellinis and clear the board."

"And while we were all busy killing each other," Luca finished, his dark eyes burning with a cold, absolute fury, "she was going to step in, play the grieving, wise elder, and take control of the ashes."

"She’s brilliant," I admitted softly, terrified by the sheer genius of the sociopathic plan.

"She’s a monster," Luca spat, his hands clenching into fists. "She let me mourn my mother for seven years while she sipped tea in the parlor next door."

The jet banked sharply as we began our final descent into Chicago.

When we touched down on the private airstrip, a heavily armed convoy was waiting for us. Marco stepped out of the lead SUV, his scarred face a mask of furious determination.

"Boss," Marco greeted us, saluting sharply. He looked past Luca to see Maria being carefully helped down the stairs by a medical team we had arranged in flight.

Marco, the hardened enforcer who had executed traitors without blinking, immediately took off his hat and bowed his head in profound, tearful respect as the true matriarch returned home.

"Welcome back, Mrs. Moretti," Marco rasped, his voice thick with emotion.

"Thank you, Marco," Maria smiled warmly, resting a frail hand on his broad shoulder. "It is good to see a loyal face."

Luca didn't waste time on sentimentality. He turned to his head of security.

"Where is she, Marco?" Luca demanded, his voice a lethal hum.

"She didn't run far, Boss," Marco reported, pulling a tablet from his jacket. "We tracked the GPS signature of the extraction team’s vehicles. They’re holed up in a luxury penthouse downtown. A high-rise owned by a shell company traced back to Sofia’s personal accounts."

"Is Vanessa with her?" I asked, stepping up beside Luca.

"Confirmed," Marco nodded. "We have thermal imaging of the penthouse. Five heavily armed mercenaries, plus two female targets."

"She thinks she’s untouchable because she’s thirty stories up," Luca sneered, racking the slide of his sidearm. "She thinks I won't breach a civilian building."

"She’s expecting a siege, Luca," I warned gently, touching his arm. "If you send a tactical team up there, it’ll be a bloodbath. The police will respond. The Commission will disavow you."

Luca looked at me, the fierce, protective pride returning to his dark eyes.

"I’m not sending a tactical team, Claire," Luca said softly. "I’m going up alone."

"Are you insane?" Marco protested immediately. "Boss, they’ll shred you before you get off the elevator!"

"They won't," Luca said confidently, a dark, terrifying smile touching his lips. "Because Sofia is a narcissist. She wants to see me broken. She wants to gloat. She’ll let me in."

Thirty minutes later, the armored SUV pulled up to the loading dock of the towering downtown high-rise.

Luca didn't wear a tactical vest. He didn't carry an assault rifle. He wore his tailored black suit, unarmed, looking exactly like the polished mafia boss he was born to be.

"Stay in the car," Luca ordered me and Marco, stepping out into the subterranean parking garage.

"Luca, please," I pleaded, grabbing his sleeve. "Be careful."

"I’m just going to have a conversation with my aunt," Luca smiled reassuringly. "I’ll be right back."

He walked away, disappearing into the private elevator bank.

The silence in the SUV was agonizing. I watched the digital clock on the dashboard, every minute stretching into an eternity.

Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.

"I’m going up," Marco finally growled, reaching for the door handle.

Before he could open it, a sudden, deafening sound shattered the quiet garage.

It wasn't a gunshot.

It was the sound of shattering glass, followed immediately by a heavy, sickening THUD on the pavement fifty feet away from our SUV.

I screamed, covering my mouth with both hands.

Marco drew his weapon instantly, throwing himself out of the car, sprinting toward the impact zone.

I stumbled out behind him, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I thought they would crack.

Lying on the cold concrete of the parking garage, amidst a shower of shattered, tempered glass that had rained down from thirty stories above, was a body.

It wasn't Luca.

It was Vanessa Bellini.

She was wearing the same torn red satin gown, her eyes wide open in sheer, unadulterated terror, staring sightlessly at the ceiling of the garage.

"Marco!" I gasped, horrified.

Before Marco could respond, the private elevator doors dinged open.

Luca walked out.

He didn't have a scratch on him. He wasn't breathing heavily. He casually adjusted his cuffs, his dark eyes entirely devoid of emotion.

He walked over to the shattered remains of the woman who had tried to destroy his family.

"What happened up there, Boss?" Marco asked, lowering his weapon, staring at Vanessa’s body in shock.

"I didn't touch her," Luca stated calmly, turning to look at us.

"Then how did she fall?" I asked, my voice trembling.

Luca smiled, a cold, terrifying expression that chilled me to the bone.

"Aunt Sofia threw her out the window," Luca said simply.

I stared at him, my mind failing to process the sheer brutality of it. "Why?"

"Because," Luca explained, walking past the body toward the SUV, "when I walked into the penthouse, I didn't threaten Sofia. I didn't raise my voice."

He stopped at the car door, looking back at us with a look of absolute, untouchable power.

"I simply handed Sofia a folder containing the proof that Vanessa was secretly recording all of Sofia’s treasonous conversations for the last year, planning to blackmail her for a larger cut of the empire."

Luca opened the car door.

"Sofia doesn't tolerate traitors," Luca said coldly. "And neither do I."