The library had not changed since Isabelle died. That was the cruelty of it. A man who could reshape the docks, buy judges, and silence district attorneys found himself utterly powerless against a roll-top walnut desk and two rows of poetry books.

The heavy iron gates at the end of the long oak-lined driveway groaned as they swung open.

I stood in the center of the marble foyer beneath the crystal chandelier, my hands resting casually in my pockets. The house behind me was dead silent. Grace had moved the girls through the hidden passage behind the library bookcase ten minutes earlier.

The low rumble of a luxury sedan’s engine echoed outside the front portico.

Headlights swept across the frosted glass of the double doors.

Then came the crunch of gravel.

The front door opened without a knock. Vincent stepped into the foyer, shaking the rain from his dark wool overcoat, a silver-handled umbrella in one hand and a leather briefcase in the other.

He stopped dead when he saw me standing there.

"Dom," Vincent said, his smile sliding into place with practiced ease. "You’re home late. Or early, depending on how you look at it."

"Take off the coat, Vince," I said.

Vincent’s eyes flicked to my hands. He didn't drop the umbrella, but his fingers tightened around the handle.

"What’s this about?"

"You always did have terrible taste in partners," I said, walking slowly toward him across the marble. "Moving girls through my docks without my knowledge? Using my name to cover your tracks? That’s bad business, cousin."

Vincent’s smile vanished completely. The genial, smiling face of my trusted relative melted away, replaced by the hard, venomous look of a man who had spent a decade planning to step over my corpse.

"You were getting soft, Dom," Vincent said softly, his voice echoing in the grand hall. "You spent too much time playing family man. You bought a mansion in Long Island, you started funding private schools, you forgot what kind of city this is."

"And Isabelle?" I asked. "Did she forget too?"

Vincent’s expression didn't even flicker. "She was poking around in ledgers that didn't concern her. A tragedy. Everyone agreed it was a rough neighborhood."

"She was my wife."

"She was a liability."

I didn't yell. I didn't reach for my gun.

"You forgot one thing, Vince," I said, stopping three feet away from him.

"And what’s that?"