Blood splashed across the polished marble the instant a jagged shard tore into my heel, and Ethan Carter crossed the room before anyone else could move. The feared mafia boss who hadn't laid a hand on me in three years gripped my arm with surprising care, and the terror flashing across his face froze every man standing behind him.

The grand ballroom of the Manhattan penthouse had played host to countless illegal negotiations, silent bribes summits, and underworld treaties over the decades. Tonight, under the harsh glow of the crystal chandeliers, it looked less like a room and more like a slaughterhouse waiting for its executioner.

The long mahogany conference table was surrounded by Ethan’s four remaining senior captains: Marcus (not the doctor, but the veteran enforcer), Salvatore, Julian, and Dominic. Each man wore an expensive suit, but beneath the fine wool fabrics, the telltale bulges of shoulder holsters were unmistakable.

I sat at the far end of the table, wearing a sleek, floor-length midnight-blue velvet gown that Ethan had personally selected for the occasion. My hair was swept up into a severe knot, and my bandaged heel was hidden inside a pair of custom designer flats. I looked every bit the untouchable mob boss’s wife—cold, elegant, and completely detached.

At least, that was the performance we were projecting. Inside, my heart was hammering violently against my ribs.

Ethan stood at the head of the table, his arms resting casually on the polished wood, his eyes sweeping slowly across the faces of his most trusted men.

"The shipments didn't vanish by accident," Ethan began, his voice cutting through the heavy silence like a razor blade. "Someone in this room leaked the coordinates to Vincent Moretti. Someone decided that my crown was up for grabs."

Across the table, Dominic—a broad-shouldered man with a permanent scowl—shifted slightly in his seat, clearing his throat. "Boss, with all due respect, accusing your inner circle without hard evidence is a dangerous game. We've bled for you for a decade. We aren't rats."

"Evidence is a luxury for a court of law, Dominic," Ethan replied smoothly. "In our world, survival depends on instinct. And my instincts tell me that the leak originated from a secure terminal using a Tier-1 biometric override."

Julian, the youngest of the captains, went visibly pale. He reached for a glass of water, his hand shaking just enough to make the ice cubes clink loudly against the crystal.

I watched Julian closely. My breath hitched in my throat.

Before anyone else could speak, the heavy double doors of the ballroom swung open with a loud bang.

Three armed mercenaries—men wearing tactical gear bearing the insignia of a private security firm known to be on the Moretti payroll—stormed into the room, assault rifles raised and aimed directly at the table.

Panic exploded instantly. Salvatore and Marcus instinctively reached for their weapons, but before their hands cleared their holsters, Julian stood up from his chair, pulling a suppressed pistol from his jacket and leveling it directly at Ethan’s chest.

"Drop your weapons! All of you!" Julian screamed, his voice cracking with hysterical triumph. His eyes were wide, manic, and unhinged. "It's over, Ethan! The Morettis own the docks now! And they want the jewel of your crown as a trophy!"

The three mercenaries fanned out, flanking Julian and sweeping their rifle barrels toward me at the end of the table.

Every man in the room froze. Salvatore and Dominic stared at Julian in absolute disbelief, their betrayal stinging deeper than any bullet.

"Julian," Ethan said, his voice terrifyingly calm. He didn't flinch. He didn't reach for a weapon. He just stared at the young captain with dead, pitiless eyes. "You were like a younger brother to me. I paid off your brother's debts in Palermo. I gave you a seat at this table."

"You gave me orders!" Julian snarled, his hand shaking as he aimed the pistol. "You treated us all like disposable foot soldiers while you hid your precious wife away in a velvet cage! Well, the Morettis offered me a kingdom. All I had to do was deliver the coordinates... and her."

Julian’s eyes flicked toward me, a sickening, predatory grin spreading across his face. "Step away from the table, Mrs. Carter. You're coming with us."

I looked at Julian. Then I looked past him, locking eyes with Ethan.