WHERE WERE YOU TAKING OUR LITTLE GIRL?

"We need a medic!" I screamed, pressing my hands desperately against Luca's stomach. Blood seeped through my fingers, hot and terrifying.

The FBI agents yelled orders, shouting for paramedics.

Luca’s head rested on my lap. He was pale, his breathing shallow. He had been shot during the chaotic crossfire when Nonna fired at Vincenzo, but he hadn't made a sound. He had stayed standing just long enough to make sure I was safe.

"Luca, stay with me," I sobbed, tears falling onto his face. "Please, don't leave me."

He reached up, his bloody hand gently touching my cheek.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice incredibly weak. "I'm sorry I made you feel like you weren't enough. You were always enough, Emma. You were everything."

"Shh," I cried, kissing his forehead. "Save your strength. You're going to be okay."

Paramedics burst into the room, pulling me away. They loaded him onto a stretcher, their voices a blur of medical jargon. I followed them blindly down the stairs, out the front doors, and into the chaotic, flashing night.

The next forty-eight hours were a blur of sterile hospital waiting rooms, bitter coffee, and endless interrogations by the FBI.

They had the ledger. The Bellini family was decimated overnight. Warrants were issued for dozens of corrupt officials. Vanessa, stripped of her money and her family's protection, was arrested trying to board a flight to Dubai.

But none of it mattered to me.

The only thing that mattered was the steady beep of the heart monitor in Room 402.

On the third day, Luca finally opened his eyes.

I was sitting beside his bed, holding his hand. Mia was asleep on a small cot in the corner of the room, clutching her favorite stuffed bear.

"Hey," Luca rasped, his voice rough.

I shot out of my chair, tears immediately springing to my eyes. I gently pressed my forehead against his. "Hi."

"Did we win?" he asked weakly, attempting a small smile.

"We won," I whispered. "The Bellinis are gone. The ledger is with the Feds. It's over."

Luca closed his eyes, a profound wave of relief washing over his face. He squeezed my hand.

"Emma," he said quietly. "When I get out of here... things are going to change. I'm done. I'm stepping down."

I pulled back, surprised. "Stepping down?"

"The Feds gave me immunity for handing over the ledger and dismantling the Bellinis," Luca explained. "But I can't be the boss anymore. I won't put you and Mia through this again. We're leaving Chicago. We're going to live a normal life."

I looked at my husband. I saw the exhaustion in his eyes. The weight of a violent legacy he had carried since he was a boy.

But I also thought about Nonna Francesca. I thought about Marco, who had risked his life for us. I thought about the twenty-three relatives who relied on the Moretti name for protection.

"No," I said softly.

Luca frowned. "No?"

I sat back down, holding his hand firmly.

"You can't step down, Luca," I said, my voice steady and completely clear. "If you leave, a vacuum opens. Another family will take over, and they will be worse. They will come after Marco. They will come after Nonna."

"Emma, I can't protect you if I stay in this life," he pleaded.

"You don't need to protect me anymore," I told him. "I am not the accountant's daughter anymore. And I am not the comfortable little housewife sitting quietly at the end of the table."

I reached into my purse.

I pulled out the heavy, ancient silver ring that belonged to his grandfather—the ring that signified the absolute power of the Moretti patriarch. Marco had retrieved it from the house.

I placed it in Luca's palm.