Three bullets tore into my body because I threw myself between a gunman and the six-year-old heir to New York’s most feared billionaire mafia family

The penthouse ballroom of the St. Regis was a monument to opulence and deceit.

Crystal chandeliers hung from gilded ceilings, casting a warm glow over hundreds of New York's elite—senators, hedge fund billionaires, judges, and the shadow kings who truly pulled their strings. Classical music drifted from a live orchestra, mingling with the soft clink of champagne flutes and the low hum of dangerous conversation.

When Dominic and I walked through the double oak doors, the room didn't fall silent—it froze.

Conversations stuttered. Eyes shifted. Whispers spread through the crowd like a wildfire through dry timber.

Dominic Mercer walked into the room like a king surveying conquered land, his head held high, his jaw set in stone. And beside him walked the woman rumored to have taken three bullets for his heir—now dressed in emerald silk, looking less like a maid and more like an empress.

"Smile, Mara," Dominic murmured without moving his lips. "The vultures are smelling blood. Let them see teeth instead."

I curved my lips into a cool, aristocratic smile that I hadn't worn in nearly a decade. "I see three of his lookouts by the eastern bar. Two more near the service elevator."

"I see them," Dominic replied softly. "Nolan has six teams stationed in the service corridors below. The moment we locate Caleb, the lights go out."

"Dominic! My dear friend!"

A voice smooth as silk and cold as ice cut through the murmur of the crowd.

The sea of tuxedos and ballgowns parted, revealing Lucian Vance.

He looked devastatingly elegant in an all-black bespoke suit, a single crimson pocket square matching the dark gleam in his pale eyes. The scar running down his cheek only added a sinister magnetism to his sharp features. He held a flute of champagne in one hand, smiling as if he were welcoming old friends to an intimate dinner.

My breath caught in my throat, but Dominic's arm beneath mine remained as steady as an iron beam.

"Lucian," Dominic said evenly, stepping forward. "I see you managed to crawl out of whatever gutter you've been hiding in for eight years."

Lucian chuckled, his eyes drifting past Dominic to lock onto mine. A sickening, familiar warmth ignited in his gaze.

"Elena," Lucian whispered, his voice thick with possessive satisfaction. "You look as breathtaking as the night you tried to incinerate me."

"I should have used twice the fuel," I said coldly, my voice cutting through the quiet like a razor.

Lucian took a slow sip of his champagne, unbothered. "Always so fiery. That was what your father loved most about you. Right up until the end."

Dominic stepped half a pace forward, subtly positioning his broad frame between Lucian and me. "Where is my son?"

"Straight to business," Lucian sighed, lowering his glass to a passing waiter's tray. "Such a lack of romance in this city. Your boy is safe, Dominic. For now. He's enjoying a private cartoon screening on the top observation roof. With a very attentive friend of mine holding his hand. One wrong word from either of you, and that friend lets go."

"Name your price," Dominic growled, the restraint in his voice fraying at the edges.

"It's quite simple," Lucian said, leaning in closer so only the three of us could hear over the orchestra. "I don't care about your money, Mercer. I care about the Vance empire. Eight years ago, my father’s overseas digital ledgers disappeared. They contain the encryption keys to over three billion dollars in untraceable offshore accounts, along with the names of every bought official from Boston to Washington."

Lucian pointed a manicured finger directly at my chest.

"Elena has the cipher," Lucian murmured. "She memorized the alphanumeric sequence when she was seventeen. She gives me the cipher, I let the boy live, and I leave New York forever. Refuse, and your son takes a dive off the roof, your empire crumbles under federal indictments tomorrow morning, and I take Elena by force anyway."

Dominic didn't hesitate. "She doesn't give you a damn thing."

"Dominic, wait," I whispered, reaching out to touch his arm.