I thought giving my husband’s mistress his family ring meant I was finally free—until the man waiting outside told me I had just signed my own death warrant.

Before we could strike the Castellano estate, the syndicate's emergency war horns sounded across the city.

The High Council of the Five Families, alarmed by the daytime shootout on LaSalle Street and the crash of syndicate-backed stocks, had called an emergency tribunal at the private Union League Club on Jackson Boulevard.

Protocol dictated that during an emergency summit, all active vendettas were frozen under penalty of collective extermination. If Roman arrived first and presented a fabricated narrative of treason, the Council would authorize a city-wide manhunt for Dante and me.

"We go to the summit first," Dante decided, steering our armored convoy through the rain-slick streets toward Jackson Boulevard. "We strip him of his seat before the entire underworld. Then, he has nowhere left to run."

At 11:45 AM, the heavy oak doors of the Union League grand chamber swung open.

The room was lined with the city’s most dangerous men: the aging capos of the North Side, the Greek shipping magnates, the Irish dock bosses, and seated at the head of the circular mahogany table, the Supreme Arbiter of the High Council, Don Salvatore Lucchese.

Roman was already standing at the podium. He looked disheveled despite his fresh suit, dark bags under his bloodshot eyes, waving a forged power-of-attorney document.

"—and as the rightful executor of the Moretti estate, I demand an immediate extermination sanction against Dante Vale for kidnapping my wife and attempting to seize sovereign assets!" Roman was roaring to the council.

"The only thing Dante Vale seized," I projected my voice, stepping through the double doors into the center of the chamber, "was the trash you threw away."

Every head turned.

Gasps rippled through the gallery of mafia bosses.

I walked down the central carpet in my sharp black suit, Dante flanking me like an executioner at my right, two dozen Vale enforcers sealing every exit behind us.

Roman went pale. "Evelyn... you're trespassing on Council grounds! Don Salvatore, she has no standing here! She is my wife—"

"I am the sole surviving bloodline of Antonio Moretti," I said, slamming the black ledger and the verified biometric hard drives directly in front of Don Salvatore. "And as of twelve hours ago, Roman Castellano holds zero equity, zero authority, and zero legal immunity under syndicate law."

Don Salvatore put on his reading glasses, plugging the master drive into the Council terminal. The screens flashed green: MORETTI SOVEREIGN ASSETS: 100% CONTROL TRANSFERRED TO EVELYN MORETTI.

"This is impossible!" Roman screamed, slamming his fists on the table. "She gave away the ring! The contract says—"

"The contract says the sovereign heir must hold the cipher," I cut him off, stepping within three feet of him. The sheer hatred radiating from me made Roman take an instinctive step back. "You forced that ring on me as a shackle. But you forgot that a ring is just metal. The blood belongs to me."

I turned to Don Salvatore. "Furthermore, I submit Exhibit B: the intercepted forensic report proving that Roman Castellano premeditated and executed the assassination of my father, Antonio Moretti, using poisoned medical supplies—a direct violation of Article 1 of the Syndicate Charter."

A deafening silence fell over the room.

Don Salvatore looked up from the screen, his ancient face carved from dark stone. He looked at Roman.

"Is this true, Roman?"

"It's a forgery! She's lying! She's sleeping with Dante Vale, they cooked this up to steal my seat!" Roman shrieked, looking frantically around the room at the other bosses. But no one met his eyes. Every single capo had leaned back, their hands subtly moving toward their holstered weapons under their jackets.

Don Salvatore closed the folder.

"Roman Castellano," Don Salvatore declared, his voice echoing with absolute authority. "By unanimous decree of the High Council, your seat is revoked. Your assets are seized by the Moretti estate. Your life is forfeit to the bloodline you betrayed."

Roman didn't wait for the guards to seize him. He pulled a concealed derringer from his sleeve, fired a wild shot that splintered the podium, and dove through the emergency service corridor behind the dais.

"Dante," I commanded, drawing my Sig Sauer.