THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME STRUGGLE TO LIFT THE SILVER COVER OFF HIS DINNER—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “HER WRIST GOT HURT IN THE PANTRY,” BEFORE HE HAD ASKED WHAT WAS WRONG.** The silver cover wasn’t supposed to be heavy.

The gunshot shattered the crystal chandelier above the table, raining glass down like diamonds.

But the bullet didn’t hit Luca.

Vanessa had fired first.

Her pearl-handled revolver smoked in her hand.

Marcus stood frozen for a second, a dark red stain blooming high on his shoulder. He dropped his weapon, his knees buckling as he collapsed heavily onto the Persian rug, groaning in agony.

Chaos erupted.

The capos drew their weapons, but they didn’t aim them at Luca.

They aimed them at Matteo.

Matteo froze, his hand inches from the silver pocket watch. He was surrounded by five guns held by men who had just heard him plot to murder their boss and plunge them into a war.

Luca stood perfectly still amidst the falling glass. He hadn’t flinched when the gun went off.

He walked slowly toward his brother.

Matteo’s arrogant facade completely crumbled. He backed away from the table, his hands raised in surrender.

“Luca. Luca, wait. We can talk about this. I’m your blood.”

“You spilled my blood the moment you plotted against this family,” Luca said, his voice cold and hollow.

He reached the head of the table. He didn’t pick up a gun.

He picked up the silver pocket watch.

He looked at Matteo.

“You wanted to be the Don, Matteo. You wanted the weight of the crown.”

Luca tossed the heavy watch. It hit Matteo square in the chest. Matteo fumbled to catch it.

“You keep it,” Luca said softly. “Because in ten minutes, I am calling the New York Commission. I am going to tell them that my brother, Matteo Moretti, murdered Don Carmine. I am going to give them the audio recording of your confession. And then, I am going to tell them exactly where you are.”

Matteo’s face went chalk-white.

The New York family wouldn’t just kill him. They would make an example out of him. It would be slow, public, and brutal.

“You can’t do that,” Matteo begged, dropping to his knees. “Luca, please! I’m your brother!”

“Take him to the cellar,” Luca ordered the capos, completely ignoring Matteo’s pleas. “Lock him in the vault until New York arrives. And drag Marcus to the infirmary. I want him alive when the Commission questions him.”

Two of the capos grabbed Matteo by the arms, dragging him out of the dining room. He kicked and screamed, begging for mercy, but the heavy oak doors shut, cutting off his cries.

The immediate threat was gone.

The room was quiet, save for the ragged breathing of the people left inside.

Vanessa slowly lowered her revolver. She placed it on the table and collapsed into a chair, burying her face in her hands. The adrenaline was fading, leaving only exhaustion.

Luca looked at her.

“Your sister is safe?” he asked quietly.

Vanessa nodded without looking up. “She got on a flight to London tonight. She’s out of his reach.”

Luca reached into his pocket. He pulled out the massive, square-cut diamond engagement ring she had returned to him weeks ago, only to be forced to wear it again for the charade.

He placed it on the table next to her gun.

“The engagement is officially broken, Vanessa,” Luca said. “You are free. I will arrange a car to take you wherever you want to go. You will have a stipend for a year. After that, we never speak again.”

Vanessa finally looked up, her mascara running down her cheeks.

“Thank you, Luca.”

Luca turned away from her.

He walked toward me.

I was standing near the doorway, trembling, clutching my injured wrist. The adrenaline crash was hitting me hard. I felt dizzy, overwhelmed by the violence and the terrifying reality of the world I had just witnessed.

Luca stopped in front of me.

The cold, terrifying mafia boss vanished. The man looking down at me was just a man. Tired, battered, and deeply grateful.

“Are you hurt?” he asked softly, his eyes scanning my face.

“No,” I whispered. “I just want my son.”

Luca nodded. “Silas is bringing him back to your apartment now. I have a crew of loyal men replacing your door and securing the building. Nobody will ever touch you or your boy again. You have my word on my life.”

I looked into his dark eyes. I believed him.

“I should go,” I said, taking a step back. The reality of my position was settling in. I was a maid. He was the Don. The crisis was over.

“Emma, wait.”