His fiancée told the pregnant daughter that the mafia boss was ashamed of her, completely unaware that he had already hidden a baby crib in his mansion a month earlier.

The silence in the foyer was so absolute that the distant crashing of ocean waves against the cliffside far below sounded like a distant thunderstorm. Luca stopped just three feet away from Dante Morelle, towering over him by half a head. The sheer physical presence of the veteran mafia boss was suffocating.

"You mentioned my wife," Luca whispered, his voice dangerously low, vibrating with a lethal intensity that sent a shiver down the spine of every man in the room. "You uttered her name in this house."

Dante forced a tight, arrogant smile, though a bead of cold sweat began to trace its way down his temple. "She was a smart woman, Luca. Too smart for her own good. Just like your daughter. If you don't hand over those documents, the blood on this marble won't just belong to the guard."

Luca didn't blink. He didn't even look at Leo, who was struggling weakly against his bonds across the room. Instead, Luca raised his left hand and gave a single, barely perceptible flick of his wrist.

*Click. Click. Click.*

From the second-floor balcony overhead, the rhythmic metallic sound of six sniper rifle bolts slamming into place echoed down through the open foyer. Dante’s head snapped upward. Standing along the second-floor railing, half a dozen Moretti snipers—men who had fought alongside Luca in the brutal syndicate wars of the nineties—had their laser sights locked squarely on the center of Dante’s forehead and the chests of his enforcers.

"You brought six men into my house, Dante," Luca said, his voice as cold as a tombstone. "Did you really think I’d leave the perimeter unguarded while my daughter is under this roof?"

Dante’s face drained of color. The arrogant smirk vanished completely, replaced by a sudden, frantic realization that he had walked directly into a slaughterhouse. "Luca... wait. You kill me here, and Chicago goes to war with New York. It’ll tear the entire underworld apart from coast to coast!"

"Let it burn," Luca said flatly. "You threatened my family. You stepped foot in my home with blood on your hands. In my world, Dante, there is only one currency for that kind of insolence."

Before Dante could shout an order to his men, Luca struck. With blinding speed, his hand shot out, grabbing Dante by the lapels of his expensive herringbone coat and slamming him violently against the marble pillar behind him. The impact knocked the wind out of Dante, sending his silver-rimmed glasses clattering across the floor.

"Marcus!" Luca roared without turning around.

"Boss!" Marcus answered instantly, appearing from the shadows of the hallway with his sidearm drawn, sweeping the barrel across Dante’s bodyguards.

"Cut Leo loose. Take these Chicago rats down to the lower holding cells and lock them in the dark until they forget what day it is." Luca pressed the cold barrel of his Beretta firmly against Dante’s chin, forcing the Chicago boss to look straight up into his merciless eyes. "And as for you, Dante? You’re going to sit in a concrete box and watch while every single asset you own in this country is liquidated, piece by piece, until you have nothing left but the clothes on your back."

Dante trembled, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, unable to utter a single word of defiance.

"Get them out of my sight," Luca ordered.

Within seconds, the Moretti guards swarmed Dante’s men, disarming them with brutal efficiency and dragging the terrified Chicago enforcers toward the basement service stairs. Marcus quickly cut the zip-ties binding his brother Leo, helping the injured young man to his feet as they hurried toward the medical wing.

The heavy front doors remained wide open, letting the cold coastal wind sweep through the blood-scented foyer. Luca stood alone in the center of the hall, breathing heavily, trying to reignite the icy control that had governed his life for decades. But before he could even turn toward the stairs, a soft, terrified gasp echoed from above.

Luca looked up.

Standing on the second-floor landing, clutching her protruding belly with both hands and staring down at the blood smeared across the marble floor below, was Emily. Her face was deathly pale, her eyes wide with shock and horror.