“TAKE YOUR LITTLE GIRL AND GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! YOU’RE NOTHING BUT A MAID!” THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE SCREAMED

Down in the sub-basement of the Moretti estate, the air smelled of damp stone and cold iron.

Luca sat in a leather armchair in the center of the soundproof concrete chamber. Marco stood beside him, arms crossed. Tied to a wooden chair beneath a harsh halogen bulb was Julian Vance, Vanessa Bellini’s personal butler and confidant, who had overseen the banquet setup that evening.

Julian’s face was bruised, his expensive suit torn at the seams.

On the steel table in front of him sat a tiny amber glass vial, recovered from Julian’s personal locker in the staff quarters, along with a digital tablet displaying high-definition surveillance footage.

"I’m going to ask you once, Julian," Luca said, his voice terrifyingly calm. He was slowly rotating a heavy silver lighter between his fingers. "Did Vanessa order the strike, or did Salvatore?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Julian spat, blood flying from his lip. "I’m a servant of the Bellini family! You touch me, and Salvatore will burn your territory to the ground!"

Luca didn't flinch. He glanced at Marco.

Marco stepped forward, grabbed Julian’s left hand, spread his fingers across the metal table, and broke his index finger with a quick, brutal snap.

Julian screamed, a high-pitched shriek of pure agony echoing off the concrete walls.

"The next one is your thumb," Luca said, not even looking up from his lighter. "Then your wrist. Then Marco brings out the blowtorch. Who gave you the vial?"

"It was Elena!" Julian screamed, tears and sweat pouring down his face. "It was your mother! Oh God, please don't touch me! It was Elena!"

Marco froze. He looked over at Luca in absolute shock.

Luca didn't move. The flame from the lighter flickered against his dark eyes.

"Explain," Luca commanded.

"Salvatore Bellini didn't want the hit," Julian wept, clutching his broken hand against his chest. "Elena approached Vanessa three days ago. Elena said... she said you were becoming too soft, that you had spent the last five years secretly draining Moretti funds chasing the ghost of your dead wife. She said the only way to ensure the Bellini-Moretti merger was if you suffered an 'unfortunate medical event' right after signing the pre-nuptial agreements."

"A non-lethal incapacitation," Luca deduced coldly. "A stroke. Paralysis."

"Yes!" Julian cried. "Digitalis! Enough to put you in a coma! Elena had power of attorney ready to execute the second you were in the ICU. She was going to merge the families under her regency and marry Vanessa to your cousin Leo!"

Luca snapped the lighter shut with a sharp *clink*.

He stood up.

"Boss?" Marco asked quietly. "What do we do with him?"

"Throw him in the federal lockup drop," Luca said coldly. "Give the FBI an anonymous tip regarding the Bellini distribution hubs in the harbor. Let the feds dismantle Salvatore's money while we handle the family."

Luca turned and walked out of the basement, his mind ablaze with a cold, calculating fury.

His mother hadn't just tried to erase his wife and child five years ago. She had tried to steal his life, his crown, and his future. And Grace had taken the bullet meant for him.

Luca ascended to the master suite on the third floor.

When he opened the door, the medical equipment had been pushed to the corners. Dr. Rossi was seated in an armchair, monitoring a laptop, while Emily sat on the bed with Grace nestled against her chest.

Grace’s color had returned. The swelling was completely gone. She was clutching a plush brown bear that Mrs. Higgins had brought up, sipping warm water from a sippy cup.

When Grace saw Luca step into the room, her eyes lit up.

"Daddy," she said softly.

That one word shattered whatever darkness was lingering in Luca’s soul.

He unholstered his gun, placed it securely inside the locked wall safe, washed his hands in the adjoining bathroom, and walked over to the bed.

"Hey, princess," Luca murmured, sitting beside Emily on the edge of the mattress.

Grace reached out her tiny arms. Luca carefully lifted her into his lap. Grace rested her head against his broad chest, listening to the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart.

"My tummy doesn't hurt anymore," Grace whispered. "The nice doctor gave me strawberry medicine."

"I know, baby," Luca choked out, burying his face in her hair. "I'm sorry. Daddy is so sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" Grace asked innocently, touching his stubbled jaw. "You saved me."

Luca looked at Emily over Grace’s head.

Emily was looking at him—really looking at him—for the first time in five years. The cold defensive wall she had erected was crumbling, replaced by an overwhelming mixture of sorrow and gratitude.

"Who did it?" Emily asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"My mother," Luca answered bluntly. "With the Bellinis."

Emily pulled in a sharp breath, her hand flying to her mouth. "Your own mother..."

"She will never touch this family again," Luca vowed, his voice absolute. "I had Marco intercept her transport. She isn't going to Rockford. She’s being placed on a private cargo flight to an estate in Sicily under permanent lockdown by our loyalists. She will live the rest of her days behind iron gates, completely cut off from the world."

"And the Bellinis?"

"They want a war," Luca said calmly. "So I’m going to give them one. But first, I am moving you and Grace."

"Where?"

"To the Lake Tower Penthouse," Luca said. "It has biometric security, bomb-proof reinforced glass, a private helipad, and twenty armed guards on rotational shift. No one gets in unless I bring them through the door myself."

Grace yawned, her tiny eyes fluttering shut against Luca’s chest. The exhaustion of the ordeal was finally pulling her back into sleep.

Luca shifted slightly, supporting Grace with one arm, while his other hand reached out across the bed and took Emily’s hand.

This time, she didn't pull away.

Her fingers curled around his, trembling slightly, but holding on tight.

"I thought I lost you," Emily whispered, tears slipping silently down her cheeks. "Five years ago, I thought you threw me away like garbage. And tonight, when Grace stopped breathing... I thought God was punishing me."

"No, Emily," Luca said fiercely, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles. "God didn't punish you. Monsters tried to destroy us. But I swear on everything I am, I will burn down every enemy in Chicago before I let anyone hurt you again."

Emily looked down at their joined hands—the worn silver band still visible on his pinky finger where he had worn it on a chain around his neck for five years.

"Luca..." she whispered. "What happens to us now?"