AT THE BIRTHDAY PARTY, MY HUSBAND HUNG ME FROM THE CEILING BEAM AND WHPPED ME 30 TIMES, JUST BECAUSE I HAD STAINED HIS MISTRESS'S CLOTHES. I CALLED MY FIVE GANGSTER BROTHERS: "MAKE HIS ENTIRE FAMILY LIVE A FATE WORSE THAN DETH."

By 7:00 AM, the rain had cleared, leaving the morning sky over Manhattan a cold, brilliant shade of steel blue.

The news broke across financial networks before the Stock Exchange bell even rang.

VALE FINANCIAL HOLDINGS FACES INSOLVENCY AMID MASSIVE DEBT RECALL. FEDERAL PROBE LAUNCHED INTO CEO ADRIAN VALE FOR FELONY ASSAULT AND FRAUD. MORETTI GLOBAL INITIATES HOSTILE TAKEOVER OF VALE ASSETS.

Inside the glass-paneled corner office of the Moretti Tower in Midtown, I sat in a plush leather armchair, wrapped in a soft cashmere sweater, a hot cup of tea resting in my hands. A specialized medical team dispatched by Dominic had already treated my wrists, dressed my shoulder lacerations, and given me an IV drip to restore my fluids.

My five brothers sat around the conference table, their laptops open, watching the chaos unfold on live television.

On the screen, news cameras were live at the Vale estate. Two state trooper cruisers and an unmarked police sedan were parked in the driveway. The cameras captured the exact moment Adrian Vale—wearing a rumpled suit, his lip still swollen, his wrists now bound in silver steel handcuffs—was escorted out of his front doors by two uniformed officers.

Behind him, his brother Marcus was being led out in cuffs for his role in recording and distributing the assault footage. Eleanor Vale was standing on the porch, screaming hysterically at the news reporters, her pristine hair wild, before a female officer instructed her to step back inside.

“His bail hearing is set for 2:00 PM,” Dominic announced, tapping his tablet. “The district attorney is requesting a one-million-dollar cash bond due to the flight risk and the severity of the charges.”

“He can’t pay it,” Marco chimed in, leaning back with a cold smile. “All Vale personal accounts were frozen ninety minutes ago by judicial order following our emergency petition. Adrian couldn't buy a cup of coffee right now, let alone a million-dollar bond.”

I looked at the television screen. Watching Adrian duck his head to avoid the flashing cameras, looking broken and terrified, I expected to feel a rush of triumph.

Instead, I just felt a profound, quiet peace.

The illusion was gone. The three years of gaslighting, the quiet cruelties, the subtle comments about my background, my family, and my worth—all of it had been burned away in six hours of relentless light.

“What about Vanessa?” I asked, looking over at Leo.

Leo clicked his mouse, bringing up a social media feed. “Vanessa’s modeling agency dropped her at 6:30 AM. Her father’s PR firm declared emergency Chapter 11 bankruptcy twenty minutes ago after their three main clients terminated their contracts citing reputational damage. She’s currently locked in her apartment in SoHo, refusing to answer the door for process servers.”

“She’ll answer them soon,” Mateo added flatly. “We’ve served her with a ten-million-dollar civil suit for intentional infliction of emotional distress and conspiracy to commit assault.”

Luca stood up from the head of the table, walking over to stand beside my chair. He set his large, warm hand on my shoulder, looking down at me with quiet pride.

“You okay, Anna?”

I looked up at my oldest brother—the man who had carried our family through the dark alleyways of Brooklyn after our father died, who had protected us, fed us, and taught us that family was the only thing that truly mattered.

“I’m better than okay, Luca,” I said, setting my tea cup down. “I want to go to the office.”

Dominic raised an eyebrow. “Which office?”

“My office,” I said, standing up straight, my pain fading into background noise. “The one at Moretti Logistics. I’ve taken three years off from running our shipping operations to play house for a man who hated me. It’s time I got back to work.”