A Billionaire Family Mocked & Pushed Mafia Boss’s Sister — What Happened Next Shocked Many

Two months later.

Winter had settled over Chicago, blanketed in a heavy layer of fresh white snow.

The Westcott estate, a magnificent stone mansion situated on a private fifty-acre property in Lake Forest, was glowing with warm lights.

Life had transformed completely for Della and Toby. Toby had recovered miraculously, now running around the warm halls of the mansion with full energy, his cheeks rosy, his laughter filling rooms that had been silent for years. Della had been appointed Executive Director of the newly formed Westcott Foundation, managing charitable funds dedicated to helping low-income families access emergency medical care.

She and Damon had grown inseparable. Their bond, forged in tragedy and kindness, had blossomed into a deep, passionate love that was celebrated by everyone around them—especially Sienna, who viewed Della as the sister she had always prayed for.

However, in the dark underbelly of the city, embers of vengeance still burned.

In a dingy, smoke-filled basement apartment in South Chicago, Bryce Vandermeer sat surrounded by empty liquor bottles. His family’s wealth was gone, his mother was serving a ten-year sentence in a federal prison, and he was living off scraps provided by distant, bitter relatives.

Sitting across from him was Viktor Rostov—a dangerous, disgraced Russian arms dealer whose cartel had lost fifty million dollars when Damon Westcott shut down the Vandermeer shipping routes.

"You want revenge on Westcott?" Viktor rasped, blowing a cloud of gray cigar smoke into the air. "So do I. He destroyed my business. He made me a fugitive."

"I want him to suffer," Bryce spat, his eyes wild with unhinged hatred. "I want him to watch everything he loves burn to the ground, just like he did to my family!"

Viktor smiled—a sickening, yellow-toothed grin. "Then we don't attack Westcott directly. The man is a fortress. He travels with armed guards and armored vehicles."

"Then who?" Bryce demanded.

Viktor pulled out two photographs and laid them on the grimy table.

One was a photo of Sienna attending an art gallery opening in downtown Chicago. The other was a photo of Della walking out of the Westcott Foundation office.

"The server girl and his little sister," Viktor purred coldly. "We take them both. We bring them to the abandoned grain silos at the Port of Chicago. And when Westcott comes to save them... we blow the entire facility into the lake."