"Everyone was afraid to touch the crime boss’s crying newborn—until one waitress stepped forward, held the baby close, and revealed a secret that should have died with his wife.

Gino kicked open the nursery door, his tactical flashlight cutting through the smoke-filled darkness.

“Boss!” Gino roared, holding an assault rifle across his chest. “It’s Vincent! He didn't leave the grounds! He brought twelve mercenaries from the North Side outfit! They knocked out the power station and breached the east gate!”

Dominic stood up instantly, pulling two heavy pistols from his suit jacket. His transformation from a grieving father back into a lethal, terrifying warlord happened in less than a second.

“Get her into the safe room!” Dominic commanded, stepping between Sophie and the open doorway.

“The safe room is compromised!” Gino shouted back over the sound of rising gunfire downstairs. “They blew the vault door on the ground floor! We have to clear a path to the garage!”

Sophie stood up from the rocking chair, wrapping Nico securely inside her heavy coat, pressing the boy against her chest, using her own body as a human shield.

“Follow me,” Dominic said, his dark eyes locking onto Sophie’s with absolute authority. “Do not let go of my coat. If anyone steps in front of us, keep your eyes down.”

They moved out into the long, dark corridor.

The mansion had turned into a war zone. Muzzle flashes illuminated the grand hallway in violent, strobe-like bursts. The thunderous roar of automatic weapons echoed off the marble walls, accompanied by the smashing of priceless glass and the shouts of dying men.

Dominic moved like a shadow, fired three precise shots down the grand staircase. Two mercenaries in dark tactical gear crumpled onto the marble steps.

Sophie kept her hand clamped tightly to the back of Dominic’s leather belt, her heart hammering against her ribs, her body shaking with pure adrenaline as she covered Nico’s ears with her hands to protect his sensitive hearing from the deafening gunshots.

They reached the top of the service stairs leading down to the private underground garage.

Suddenly, a heavy iron security door at the end of the hall was kicked open with a metallic bang.

Vincent Moretti stepped into the corridor, holding a military-grade shotgun, his face twisted in a manic, murderous rage. Behind him stood two heavy mercenaries with assault rifles.

“It’s over, Dominic!” Vincent shrieked, leveling the shotgun straight at his brother’s chest. “You gave up your right to rule the day you brought a waitress into our father’s house!”