I pushed through the back door of the Maragold room ten minutes late with my right shoe broken, my coat damp from the cold,

Silence fell over the Maragold suite—a heavy, dangerous silence.

Marco’s expression hardened. "Jack, what are you talking about? She's an unstable waitress who just ruined a historic peace treaty."

"Rocco," Jack commanded softly. "Lock the doors. No one leaves. Not Victor, not the guards, not Marco."

Enzo Rinaldi stood up slowly, raising his hands. "Moretti, what is this? Is this a setup?"

"No, Enzo," Jack said, his voice deadly calm. "It seems my house has a leak."

Victor tried to bolt toward the back service door, but Rocco slammed him against the wall, pinning his arm behind his back and pulling a hidden radio from Victor's vest.

Marco realized the trap had failed. He pulled a compact pistol from his coat, but before he could raise it, Jack grabbed Marco's wrist, twisted it violently, and slammed him face-first onto the dining table. The heavy crystal glasses shattered, scattering shards across the soaked white tablecloth.

Rocco moved swiftly, disarming Marco's men before a single shot could be fired.

Jack held Marco pinned against the table, his hand heavy on the back of Marco's neck. "My father died for yours," Jack whispered fiercely into Marco's ear. "And you traded my life for dock routes?"

"You're soft, Jack!" Marco spat, blood trickling from his lip onto the white cloth. "You let this family weaken! The emergency clause was legal! The city would have been mine!"

"The clause requires my death," Jack said. He pulled Marco up and threw him toward Rocco. "Take them downstairs. All of them. Victor too."

Victor wept as Rocco dragged him away. "I had to! Marco threatened my family! I didn't have a choice!"

Within three minutes, the suite was emptied of betrayers. Enzo Rinaldi looked at Jack, adjusted his lapels, and nodded once. "We finish the treaty tomorrow, Moretti. At my estate. Without your 'brother'."

"Tomorrow," Jack agreed coldly.

When the room cleared, only Jack, two loyal guards at the doors, and I remained. I was still sitting on the floor, surrounded by broken porcelain and dark coffee stains, my hands trembling as the adrenaline finally left my body.

Jack walked back to me. He extended a broad, calloused hand.

I hesitated, looking at my taped shoe, my stained apron, and the rough scars visible on my wrists. I was used to men pulling away from my damage.

"Up, Lily," Jack said gently.

I took his hand. His grip was warm, strong, and steady. He pulled me up effortlessly, holding my arm for a second until I found my balance on my broken heel.

"You saved my life," he said.

"I saved the city," I whispered, pulling my hand back. "My son lives two blocks from here. I didn't want a war in his streets."

Jack looked at me—really looked at me—and for the first time, his sharp eyes softened. "What's your name?"