The wind howling off the New York cliffs sounded like a desperate animal, but inside the Moretti estate, the only sound was the harsh scrape-scrape-scrape of Nora’s brush against Italian marble.

Within twenty minutes, the entire estate was placed under total lockdown. Lorenzo’s armed men took control of every exit, dragging all twenty-two staff members—from the head chef to the junior groundskeepers—into the grand marble foyer.

The servants were lined up against the wall, trembling in terror as Marco and two tech operatives went through their confiscated phones and bank records on portable laptops.

Lorenzo sat on a leather armchair in the center of the foyer, a glass of bourbon in his hand, looking like a dark king presiding over a court of condemned souls.

Nora sat nearby on a plush sofa, wrapped in a warm cashmere throw that Lorenzo himself had placed over her shoulders. A personal medic hired by Lorenzo was currently examining her, gently checking her blood pressure and checking her bump.

"She’s severely malnourished and exhausted, Mr. Moretti," the medic reported quietly to Lorenzo. "And the bruised tissue on her shoulder and neck indicates physical assault. But thankfully, the baby is healthy and strong."

Lorenzo nodded, his gray eyes darkening further. He stood up and walked toward the line of terrified servants.

Marco stepped forward, holding an iPad. "Boss. We finished the quick forensic audit of Mrs. Gable’s accounts, as well as the senior staff."

"Read it," Lorenzo commanded.

"For the past four years," Marco read aloud, "Mrs. Gable has been embezzling over forty thousand dollars a month from the estate’s caretaking fund. She cut the old Don’s medical staff from four private nurses down to zero, pocketing their salaries. She sold off the luxury food supplies shipped from Manhattan to local markets and bought cheap scraps for the house."

Gasps erupted from the junior maids, who had been kept in the dark about the true extent of the theft.

Marco continued. "Furthermore, secondary staff members, including the chief butler and two senior guards, were paid off by Gable to keep quiet. Security footage from room 4B—which Gable thought she had erased, but was backed up on our private cloud—shows systematic physical neglect and emotional abuse of Don Giovanni."

The air in the foyer turned suffocating.

Lorenzo slowly walked over to Mrs. Gable, who was kneeling on the cold marble, her eyes red from crying.

"You embezzled nearly two million dollars from my family," Lorenzo whispered, his voice dangerously soft. "And in exchange, you let my father rot in the dark."

"Mr. Moretti... I'm sorry! I'll give it all back! Every penny!" she shrieked, grabbing at his trousers.

Lorenzo stepped back, shaking her hands off like dirt.

"Giving it back won't fix what you did," Lorenzo said coldly. He looked at Marco. "Call the Federal Bureau and handing over the embezzlement paper trail. Let them spend twenty years in federal prison for financial fraud. But before the police arrive..."

Lorenzo leaned down, his eyes blazing. "...strip them of every uniform, confiscate their coats, and throw them out onto the driveway. Let them wait in the blizzard for the police cars to pick them up. Let them see what it feels like to freeze."

Two minutes later, the heavy iron doors opened and closed. The screaming, crying voices of Mrs. Gable and her co-conspirators were swallowed by the roaring winter wind outside.

Lorenzo turned around. The remaining young maids who had not participated in the cruelty cowered in fear.