The coffee pot slipped from Leah Vale’s fingers at 11:47 p.m. and exploded across the tile floor like the last fragile part of her pretending.

BANG.

A single gunshot echoed through the grand dining hall, sharp and deafening.

Hector blinked, a look of utter confusion crossing his face. He lowered his hand slowly, looking down at the red stain spreading rapidly across the chest of his tailored navy suit.

Behind him, Lev stood with his weapon raised, smoke curling from the barrel of his gun.

“Nobody touches the Don’s daughter,” Lev said stoically.

Hector’s gun dropped from his lifeless fingers, clattering onto the oak table before he collapsed to the floor, motionless.

Silence descended upon the room once more. The Capos did not move. None of them drew a weapon to avenge Hector. In the underworld, treason against blood was an unforgivable sin, and Hector’s guilt had been exposed to everyone.

Don Carmine closed the folder slowly. He stood up, adjusted his suit jacket, and looked down the table at Viktor.

“Your house is clean now, Don Viktor,” Carmine said quietly. He then turned his gaze to Leah, bowing his head slightly in a gesture of profound respect. “And it seems the house of Torrio has a worthy successor.”

One by one, the twelve Capos stood up, nodded to Viktor and Leah, and silently exited the grand hall, leaving the family alone with their ghosts.

Viktor stood near the head of the table, staring at the spot where his uncle had fallen, his shoulders heavy. The storm that had raged inside him for twenty-three years had finally cleared, leaving behind only the quiet wreckage of lost time.

Leah walked across the room, stopping a few feet from him.

“Is it over?” she asked softly.

Viktor turned to her. He looked at her face—really looked at her—no longer seeing just a memory of Mariana, but seeing the strong, brave woman who had survived the dark alone and brought the truth to light.

“The war is over, Leah,” Viktor said, his voice trembling. He reached out slowly, tentatively, as if afraid she might shatter.

Leah didn't pull away. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her father’s neck.

Viktor froze for a fraction of a second, stunned, before burying his face in her hair, his massive arms wrapping around her tight, holding her as if he would never let go. The feared mafia boss wept silently in the middle of the empty hall, holding the daughter he thought had died a lifetime ago.