The last nanny ran out of a mafia boss's mansion screaming, barefoot, without her purse, and too terrified to look back. That should have been enough to make me turn around.

The triumph at the courthouse brought a brief moment of celebration, but the shadows of Victor’s world were not so easily dispelled.

That evening, the storm finally hit New York with full force. Torrential rain lashed against the windows of the Rinaldi estate, and heavy thunder shook the foundations of the house.

Inside, the atmosphere was cozy and joyful. Serena, Victor, and all five children were in the large family room upstairs, celebrating Lucia’s permanent custody victory with ice cream sundaes and board games.

Lucia sat on the floor, proudly showing Tommy and Leo how to play memory cards, while Marco helped Nico build a sprawling Lego fortress.

Victor sat on the leather sofa beside Serena, watching the children with a faint, peaceful smile. He reached out, his hand gently grasping hers, their fingers intertwining naturally.

"Thank you, Victor," Serena said softly, leaning her head against his shoulder. "You saved my life today."

"You saved mine three weeks ago," Victor replied softly, kissing the top of her head. "We’re even."

Suddenly, the lights throughout the entire mansion flickered twice... and went pitch black.

The steady hum of the central heating system died. The emergency red backup lights failed to turn on.

From downstairs, a sharp, metallic CRACK echoed through the floorboards—the sound of the estate's primary power generators being manually severed.

"Mommy!" Lucia cried out in the darkness.

"Stay down!" Victor’s voice instantly transformed, ringing out with command authority.

He stood up, pulling a compact 9mm handgun from his concealed holster under his jacket.

The heavy oak doors of the family room opened, and Marco immediately stood in front of Lucia and his younger brothers, shielding them with his own body.

Victor’s scar-faced head of security, Dominic, hurried into the room, holding a tactical flashlight and an assault rifle.

"Boss!" Dominic reported in a hushed, urgent tone. "Perimeter fence breached! The Santoro family disabled our main power grid and cellular jammer tower. They're inside the grounds—at least twenty armed men!"

Serena’s heart stopped. "They're attacking the house?"

"They know Vance failed in court," Victor said, his eyes turning to flint. "This is a desperate play to wipe us out before the police act on Mateo’s evidence. Dominic, get the children into the panic room beneath the study!"

"Understood!" Dominic nodded, turning to the kids. "Boys, Lucia, move! Fast!"

Serena grabbed Lucia’s hand, while Marco grabbed Tommy, and Nico held Leo. They hurried down the dark, cavernous hallway, guided only by Dominic’s tactical flashlight.

From the ground floor, the shattering of grand stained-glass windows announced the enemy's entry, followed instantly by the deafening, sharp roar of automatic gunfire echoing through the marble foyer.

Victor’s security detail returned fire, the mansion erupting into a violent warzone.

"In here!" Dominic instructed, ushering them into Victor’s private study. He moved a heavy mahogany bookcase aside, revealing a thick, reinforced steel blast door set into the stone wall.

He punched a seven-digit code into the keypad. The heavy steel door clicked open with a pneumatic hiss.

"Get inside!" Serena instructed, pushing the five children into the brightly lit, secure bunker. "Lucia, stay with Marco! Do not come out!"

"Mommy, come with us!" Lucia sobbed, reaching for her hand.

"I’ll be right behind you, sweetie," Serena promised, forcing a comforting smile despite her terrifying panic.

Before Serena could step into the bunker, a heavy explosion rocked the mansion floor below. Dust and plaster fell from the ceiling, and the study doors were blown inward with violent force.

Dominic turned and raised his rifle, firing three shots into the corridor before he was struck in the chest by a hail of gunfire. He fell back against the desk, groaning in pain.

Through the smoke of the doorway stepped three armed men wearing dark tactical gear and ski masks—members of the Santoro hit squad.