The day I discovered my unmarried younger sister’s newborn baby belonged to my husband—the Mafia boss who controlled some of Las Vegas’s most powerful casinos

One year later.

The opening night of The Sovereign resort and casino was the grandest spectacle in the modern history of Las Vegas.

The colossal glass-and-steel tower on the north Strip rose into the desert sky like a monument of modern elegance. There were no mob backrooms, no dark corridors, no grease on the wheels. It was clean, brilliant, and utterly dominant, pulling seventy percent of the high-roller market away from the older south Strip properties in its very first quarter.

Up on the private penthouse terrace of The Sovereign, the desert breeze was warm and dry, carrying the faint, sweet scent of night-blooming jasmine from the rooftop gardens.

I stood by the glass railing, watching the Strip glitter below.

Down on the southern corridor, the neon sign of the Bellissimo flickered weakly, two of its letters dim and unmaintained. Rumors had already circulated through the financial press that Dante Moretti was selling off his family's remaining casino assets to institutional buyers and retiring completely from public life.

He had retreated to an isolated ranch in northern Nevada, raising his four-year-old daughter Isabella far away from the blood, the syndicates, and the Bennett family.

Lily and Eleanor had faded into total obscurity. Stripped of the Moretti wealth and shunned by high society, Eleanor was living in a run-down duplex in Reno, working behind the counter of a commercial laundry, while Lily drifted between low-paying administrative jobs, bitter, forgotten, and thoroughly alone.

Justice hadn't come from a gun or a courtroom. It had come from simply letting them choke on the poison of their own greed.

"Mamma!"

A joyful shout pulled me from my thoughts.

Two-year-old Leo came barreling across the teak decking on sturdy little legs, laughing as he clutched a wooden toy train. Behind him, Julian walked with slow, easy grace, his tuxedo jacket unbuttoned, a glass of vintage champagne in his hand.

I knelt down, catching Leo in my arms, lifting him into the air until he giggled hysterically, burying his face into my neck.

"Look at you, my brave boy," I laughed, kissing his soft, warm cheek.

Julian stepped up behind us, sliding his free arm around my waist, pulling both Leo and me flush against his broad chest. He kissed my temple, his breath warm and steady against my skin.

"The board just finished the opening night tally, Lady Vance," Julian murmured with a quiet, triumphant smile. "The Sovereign broke every single revenue record on the Strip. Dante Moretti’s holding group filed their bankruptcy petition thirty minutes ago."

I rested my head against Julian’s shoulder, looking out over the city that had once threatened to consume me whole.

I felt no triumph over Dante’s fall. I felt only the profound, sacred peace of a woman who had weathered the hurricane and found the sun.

"Dante Moretti doesn't matter, Julian," I said softly, turning my head to look into the bright, clear blue eyes of the man who had rebuilt my world with love, honor, and truth. "He hasn't mattered for a very long time."

Julian smiled—a deep, beautiful, unconditional smile. He leaned down, his lips meeting mine in a kiss that tasted of sweet champagne, mountain air, and a future that stretched out endlessly before us, unbroken and bright.

Leo clapped his little hands together, laughing between us under the warm Nevada stars.