Mafia Boss Never Loved Anyone Until a Broke Designer Jammed Her Sneaker Into His Private Elevator There was a special kind of silence that followed Victor Gallow. It emptied crowded restaurants before he reached his table. It made armed men lower their voices. It turned confident executives into stammering children when he entered a conference room.

Victor arrived at the penthouse security holding room exactly ten minutes later. He had practically torn the door off its hinges when he walked in. Sarah was sitting in a metal chair in the center of the dark room, weeping hysterically. Arthur stood silently in the corner, his expression entirely devoid of mercy. Harper stood behind the two-way glass in the observation room, watching with a heavy heart. Victor didn't yell. He walked slowly into the room, pulling off his silk tie and rolling up his sleeves. The terrifying calmness of his movements made Sarah scream louder. “Mr. Gallow, please!” Sarah begged, tears streaming down her pale face. “I didn't know what it was! A man just offered me fifty thousand dollars to process the paperwork!” Victor pulled up a chair and sat down directly in front of her. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Who was the man, Sarah?” Victor asked, his voice a low, lethal whisper. “He had gray hair,” she sobbed, trembling violently. “He walked with a cane. He said he was an old friend of yours.” Harper closed her eyes behind the glass. Marcus Vance. “He said if I didn't push the invoice through, he would kill my mother in New Jersey,” Sarah confessed, completely breaking down. “I was so scared. I’m so sorry.” Victor stared at her for a long, agonizing moment. In the old days, Victor would have ordered Arthur to execute her on the spot. Betrayal was an unforgivable sin in his world. Victor stood up slowly and walked toward the two-way mirror. He knew Harper was standing right on the other side. He placed his hand flat against the glass, right where he knew her face was. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, letting the chaotic violence in his mind settle. Harper had taught him how to be human again. He wasn't going to let Marcus turn him back into a monster. Victor turned back to Sarah. “Arthur,” Victor commanded, his voice echoing in the cold room. “Take her phone. Send a team to New Jersey to extract her mother immediately.” Sarah gasped, looking up in absolute shock. “Put them both on a private jet to London and give them new identities,” Victor continued. “If she ever sets foot in America again, bury her.” Arthur nodded once. “Yes, sir.” Victor walked out of the holding room and into the observation deck. Harper immediately threw her arms around him. “You didn't kill her,” Harper whispered into his chest, overwhelmingly proud of him. Victor wrapped his arms tightly around her, resting his chin on her head. “She is a pawn,” Victor murmured. “But Marcus knows we found the invoice.” “He knows his ambush at the gala is ruined.” Victor pulled back, his eyes flashing with a cold, terrifying predatory light. “Which means he is going to strike somewhere else.” “And he is going to do it tonight.”