THE MOMENT THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE THREW MY OLD FAMILY PHOTO INTO THE FIREPLACE AND CALLED ME “NOTHING BUT A SERVANT,” HIS SIX-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER STOOD UP AND SAID, “THAT’S MY MOMMY.” THE ENTIRE ROOM WENT SILENT. The fire was already burning.

The betrayal hit the room like a physical shockwave.

Adrian stood perfectly still, his body shielding Lily, his eyes locked on the barrel of Marcus’s gun. The man he had trusted with his life, the man who had stood beside him at Isabella’s funeral, had been the architect of his destruction all along.

"You," Adrian whispered, the realization pulling the air from the room. "You were the one driving her that night."

Marcus kept the gun leveled at Adrian’s chest. He didn't look remorseful. He looked bored, like a businessman closing a tedious deal.

"She begged me to take her to the train station," Marcus said casually, tapping the leather ledger against his leg. "She said she had proof Carlo was stealing from the families, and she was going to expose him. She trusted me, Adrian. She thought because I was your brother in arms, I would protect the empire."

Marcus chuckled, a dry, humorless sound.

"But Carlo pays much better than you do, old friend. I called him from the car. I told him where we were going. He had his men waiting on the slickest part of the highway. A little tap on the bumper, a steep drop-off... it was tragically easy."

"You killed my wife," Adrian said. The words didn't sound like a question. They sounded like a death sentence.

"I secured my future," Marcus corrected. He glanced down at Victoria, who was still kneeling on the floor, smiling triumphantly. "Get up, Victoria. Grab the girl. We're leaving."

"No!" I screamed, stepping entirely in front of Lily, wrapping my arms around her. "You are not taking her!"

Marcus sighed, shifting his aim slightly toward me.

"Don't be a hero, Emily," Marcus warned. "You're just a maid. You don't have to die tonight. Step aside."

"She stays with me," I fired back, my heart pounding so hard it hurt my ribs. I had lost my mother to this family's greed. I wasn't going to let them take this little girl.

Adrian’s hand moved slightly, instinctively reaching for the gun he had tucked into his waistband.

"Ah ah," Marcus said sharply, his finger tightening on the trigger. "Hands where I can see them, Adrian. I know how fast you are. If you twitch, I put a bullet in your chest, and then I put one in the maid. And Lily watches it all."

Adrian slowly raised his empty hands, his face a mask of calculated fury.

Victoria scrambled to her feet, brushing off her expensive dress. She stepped toward me, reaching out to grab Lily.

I needed a weapon. I needed a distraction. I needed anything.

My eyes darted around the ruined bedroom. My clothes. The overturned mattress.

And then, I saw it.

Sitting on top of the small wooden dresser near the door, completely undisturbed by Victoria’s frantic searching, was a heavy, cast-iron bookend.

It was shaped like a roaring lion. Adrian had given it to me my first week here, saying it belonged to his grandfather and he wanted me to have something nice for my room. It weighed at least five pounds.

It was only two feet away from my right hand.

But Marcus was watching us like a hawk. If I made a sudden move for it, he would shoot.

I looked down at Lily. Her face was buried in my apron, crying silently.

"Lily," I whispered, so softly only she could hear. "Close your eyes tightly. Don't look."

I felt her small head nod against my stomach.

Victoria reached me. She grabbed my shoulder, her perfectly manicured nails digging into my skin. "Move, you pathetic piece of trash."

I let her pull me slightly to the right, feigning submission.

The movement put the dresser directly behind me.

I looked at Adrian. For a fraction of a second, our eyes met.

He didn't know what I was going to do, but he saw the shift in my posture. He saw the tension in my shoulders. The Mafia boss understood the language of violence perfectly. He braced himself, dropping his center of gravity.

I didn't wait another second.

I twisted my body away from Victoria, swinging my right arm backward. My hand clamped around the heavy iron lion.

With every ounce of strength I had built from years of scrubbing floors and carrying heavy silver trays, I swung the iron bookend in a brutal, blinding arc directly toward Marcus’s face.

Marcus saw the movement, but he was expecting me to attack Victoria. He wasn't expecting the maid to throw a five-pound piece of cast iron at his head.

He flinched, raising his arm to block it.

The iron lion slammed violently into his forearm. The sickening crack of breaking bone echoed in the small room.

Marcus screamed, the suppressed pistol slipping from his fingers as his arm shattered.

Before the gun even hit the floor, Adrian moved.

He didn't just tackle Marcus; he hit him with the force of a freight train. The two massive men crashed backward out into the hallway, slamming into the mahogany wainscoting with bone-jarring force.

I grabbed Lily and threw us to the floor behind the overturned mattress as the hallway erupted into chaotic violence.

Adrian wasn't fighting to subdue. He was fighting to kill. He unleashed three years of agonizing grief onto the man who had murdered his wife. Fists met flesh with sickening wet thuds.

Victoria screamed, turning to run.

But I wasn't letting her go.

I scrambled up from behind the mattress, lunging forward, and grabbed a fistful of Victoria’s expensive hair. I yanked her backward with everything I had. She shrieked, crashing hard onto her back in the doorway.

I dropped my knee heavily onto her chest, pinning her to the floor.

"You aren't going anywhere!" I yelled, breathing heavily, adrenaline completely flooding my system.

In the hallway, the fight ended abruptly.

Adrian had Marcus pinned to the floor, his massive hands wrapped tightly around the traitor's throat, choking the life out of him. Marcus’s face was turning a dark, bruised purple, his unbroken arm flailing weakly.

"Adrian, stop!" I yelled from the doorway, keeping Victoria pinned. "If you kill him, you'll never prove he did it! Let the police have him!"

Adrian didn't seem to hear me. His eyes were completely black with rage. He was going to snap Marcus’s neck.

"Daddy, please!"

It was Lily’s voice. Small, terrified, breaking through the violence.

Adrian froze.

The sound of his daughter’s voice shattered the bloodlust. He blinked, the humanity slowly returning to his face. He looked down at the broken, wheezing man under his hands.

With a disgusting sound of disgust, Adrian let go of Marcus’s throat.

He stood up, his chest heaving, his knuckles covered in blood. He reached down, picked up Marcus’s dropped gun, and aimed it at the traitor's kneecap.

Thwip.

The suppressed gunshot sounded like a heavy staple gun.

Marcus screamed in agony as the bullet shattered his knee, ensuring he wasn't going anywhere.

Adrian turned back to me. He looked at Victoria pinned under my knee, then at Lily, who was safe behind the mattress.

"Are you hurt?" Adrian asked, his voice rough and breathless.

"No," I panted, keeping my weight on Victoria. "We're fine."

Adrian nodded. He pulled his phone out again.

"Get the police chief on the line," Adrian ordered his external security team. "Tell him I have two wrapped presents for him in the west wing."

He hung up and walked into the bedroom. He reached down and roughly hauled Victoria to her feet, zip-tying her hands behind her back with a plastic cuff he pulled from his jacket.

It was over.

We had won.

But as Adrian dragged Victoria into the hallway and dumped her next to Marcus, a cold breeze suddenly swept through the corridor.

I frowned, looking toward the end of the hall.

The heavy glass doors leading out to the second-floor balcony were wide open, the sheer curtains blowing wildly in the wind.

And standing out on the dark balcony, illuminated by the moonlight, was Carlo Bellini.

He had woken up.

And in his massive, rough hand, he was holding a small pink coat.

Lily’s coat.