Hundreds of powerful people filled Seattle’s Grand Pacific Ballroom, yet the seventeen-year-old daughter of the most feared mafia boss on the West Coast stood against a wall as if she were part of the decoration.

The revelation hung in the air like heavy smoke.

Mia stared at her father, tears streaming down her cheeks as she processed his words. The monster she had feared for five years wasn't a captor—he was a desperate husband trying to keep his broken family breathing in the dark.

Father? Mia signed, her movements small, fragile, and breaking. You... you saved her?

Graham set his gun on a nearby metal tray and raised his hands. His signs were clumsy, but for the first time, they were filled with profound emotion. I couldn't save her mind, Mia. But I refused to let them take her body. I'm sorry I lied to you. I was trying to protect you from the pain.

Mia broke down, collapsing to her knees beside her mother’s bed, gripping her limp hand.

I watched the scene, my heart aching for both of them. But my professional instincts quickly cut through the emotion. "Mr. Holloway, the security bypass downstairs wasn't an external attack, was it? The code was overridden from the inside."

Graham’s eyes locked onto mine, narrowing sharply. "What are you saying?"

"The text message I got earlier," I said, pulling out my phone and showing him the screen. "Someone wanted me to mistrust you. Someone was feeding Mia suspicions to push her into looking for this room tonight. Whoever breached the gate was a distraction."

Graham slowly turned his head toward Marcus, who was standing by the control console, still holding the heavy briefcase.

"Marcus," Graham said softly, his voice dropping an octave into pure, lethal terror. "Where are the backup encryption drives for my offshore accounts?"

Marcus didn't flinch. Instead, a cold, slow smile spread across his scarred face. He raised his hand, pointing a silenced pistol directly at Graham’s chest.

"They're right here in the briefcase, Boss," Marcus said calmly. "Along with the security passcodes for the entire West Coast network."

"You sold us out," Graham said, not moving an inch.

"Sold you out? No. I’m simply liquidating an asset," Marcus sneered. "You soft-hearted bastard. You spent tens of millions keeping a braindead woman alive and hiding a deaf girl in a glass house. The Syndicate needed a leader, not a tragic widower. The rival cartel offered me fifty million for your network and your head."

Mia gasped, realizing what was happening. She moved to jump up, but I grabbed her shoulder, pushing her behind me near the medical equipment.

"You won't make it out of the estate, Marcus," Graham warned, taking a subtle step forward to shield Mia and me. "My men surround the perimeter."

"Your men follow my orders when you're not in the room, Graham," Marcus laughed. "They think there's an active threat at the main gate. By the time they clear it, I'll be on a boat across Lake Washington, and you'll three be dead from 'smoke inhalation' after this basement accidentally catches fire."

Marcus raised his weapon, aiming straight for Graham’s forehead.

In that fraction of a second, I didn't think about my rent, my job, or my safety. I grabbed a heavy glass IV bottle off the tray beside me and hurled it with all my strength straight at the control panel next to Marcus’s head.