Nolan had six-year-old Leo pinned face-down on the grass when Serafina reached them.

Marco’s face flushed a deep, mottled red. He stood up abruptly, kicking his chair backward.

"You think a piece of paper stops me?!" Marco roared, reaching into his jacket for his firearm. "I have thirty armed men inside this house! I take what I want!"

Before his fingers could even touch his holster, six laser sights painted crimson red dots directly over Marco’s heart.

The perimeter doors burst open, and twenty heavily armed, black-clad tactical operators—the syndicate’s legendary elite guard—flooded the hall, their submachine guns aimed squarely at Marco’s personal bodyguards.

Marco’s men immediately put their hands in the air, dropping their weapons onto the marble floor with a chorus of heavy metallic clatters.

"What... what is this?" Marco gasped, his eyes darting frantically across the room. "Santino! Bruno! Shoot her!"

Neither Capo moved an inch.

"They answer to the Don, Marco," Santino said coldly, stepping beside Serafina’s chair. "And Donna Serafina was named sole ruler of this family in Don Matteo’s secret will five years ago."

Serafina slid a notarized document across the table.

"Matteo was the muscle, Marco," Serafina revealed, her voice echoing in the silent room. "I was the architect. Every territory we took, every alliance we forged, every dollar we laundered—it was done through my systems. Matteo knew that if he ever died, you would try to tear this family apart out of greed."

Marco collapsed back into a chair, sweat dripping from his chin, his entire coup collapsing in less than ten minutes.

"What... what are you going to do to me?" Marco whimpered.

Serafina stood up, buttoning her jacket calmly.

"You're going to hand over every deed, every offshore account, and every territory under your name," Serafina said. "And then you are going to leave this country and never set foot on North American soil again."