The silence in the master suite was no longer the quiet of a cold winter night; it was the suffocating silence that follows a sudden explosion.

The fire from the boathouse lit up the snow-covered grounds of Geneva Lake like an inferno against the black sky.

By the time the sirens of the local volunteer fire department began to wail in the distance, Frankie and Big Mike had swept the main house, securing every remaining server, laptop, and document folder.

Preston’s body lay still in the snow, covered by a black canvas tarp. His private guards were disarmed, zip-tied, and loaded into the back of Frankie’s vans to be delivered to an empty warehouse in South Chicago for questioning regarding Nathan’s murder.

Enzo stood near the SUV, wrapping a thick fleece blanket around Harper’s shoulders. She sat on the tailgate of the vehicle, staring into the flames consuming the structure that had held her father’s darkest secrets.

“It’s done,” Enzo said softly, sitting beside her on the bumper, taking her cold hands into his large, warm palms.

“It doesn't feel real,” she whispered. “I spent fifteen years believing he was invincible. I thought if he died, the world would collapse.”

“The world didn't collapse,” Enzo replied, raising her hands to his lips, kissing her cold knuckles gently. “It just got cleaner.”

Salvatore walked up to the SUV, wiping soot from his forehead with a handkerchief. He looked at Enzo, then at Harper, offering her a respectful nod.

“The local sheriff is ten minutes away,” Salvatore reported. “Frankie wiped the security footage from the main gate. As far as the authorities are concerned, Preston was attacked by an unknown rival syndicate seeking his offshore ledgers. The evidence we recovered from the floor safe will be anonymously dropped on the desk of the Chief U.S. Attorney in Chicago by sunrise.”

“Good,” Enzo said. “Preston’s legacy won't just end in the snow. It will end in a federal indictment that strips his name from every building in this state.”

Salvatore smiled thinly. “Your brother can rest now, Enzo.”

“Yeah,” Enzo murmured, looking up at the winter stars visible through the smoke. “He can.”

He turned back to Harper. “Let’s go home.”