More surprises await in the next chapter.

-8-

The private conference room on the executive floor of Sterling & Vance’s Manhattan headquarters smelled of old leather, polished mahogany, and expensive espresso.

It was exactly 12:00 PM.

The large glass table in the center of the room was completely clear, save for two thick leather-bound folders, a digital notary pad, and a single silver fountain pen.

Marcus Vance—senior partner and one of the most lethal corporate litigators in the country—sat at the head of the table, his silver hair neatly combed, his sharp eyes fixed impassively on the door. Beside him sat Elena, acting as my legal proxy and witness, her arms crossed over her chest with an expression of unyielding triumph.

The heavy oak door swung open.

Lucian Moretti walked in. He looked ten years older than he had a week ago. His suit was immaculate, but his shoulders were slightly rounded, the heavy armor of the infallible mafia boss finally stripped away by the sheer weight of his defeat. He didn't look at Marcus or Elena. His dark eyes locked entirely on me.

I sat at the opposite end of the table, wearing a crisp white blazer, my hair pulled back into a severe, elegant knot. Nico was resting in a secure bassinet beside my chair, sleeping peacefully under the watchful eye of two armed security guards stationed near the windows.

Lucian walked slowly to his chair, pulled it out, and sat down without a word. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a gold-plated pen, and placed it beside the silver one already on the table.

“You’re late, Lucian,” I said, my voice cutting through the silent room like a scalpel.

“Traffic on the West Side Highway was backed up,” Lucian replied quietly, his voice raspy. He looked down at the divorce decree and asset forfeiture agreement sitting in front of him. “Did you bring the baby?”

“Nico is right here,” I said, my hand resting gently on the edge of the bassinet. “He’s sleeping. And he will never know you as anything more than a legal footnote in our past.”

Lucian flinched, a microscopic spasm crossing his jaw. He opened the leather folder, flipping past page after page of complex financial disclosures, real estate transfers, custody relinquishments, and federal immunity waivers.

“You’re taking everything,” Lucian murmured, not looking up from the text. “The penthouse, the shipping lines, the offshore accounts, the municipal trust control... you’ve left me with literally nothing.”

“I left you your life, Lucian,” I corrected him coldly. “Given what your father and your associates have done over the past thirty years, I could have handed these ledgers directly to the U.S. Attorney’s office and had you sitting in a maximum-security federal penitentiary by sunset. Instead, I gave you a clean divorce, full non-prosecution clauses for your personal accounts, and your freedom. Consider it severance pay for seven years of wasted time.”

Marcus Vance slid the signature page toward Lucian, tapping the line marked Respondent.

“Sign it, Mr. Moretti,” Marcus said, his tone clinical and completely devoid of human warmth. “Every second you hesitate is another second the federal grand jury considers unsealing the master indictment.”

Lucian picked up his gold pen. His hand didn't shake. The iron discipline of a man who had survived decades in the underworld took over. He pressed the nib against the paper and signed his name in bold, sweeping strokes: Lucian Moretti.

He laid the pen down, closed the folder, and pushed it slowly across the table toward Marcus.

“It’s done,” Lucian whispered, keeping his eyes fixed on me. “Are you satisfied, Serena? Have you punished me enough?”

I didn't answer immediately. I stood up from my chair, zipped my white blazer, and walked slowly around the table until I was standing right beside him. I looked down at the man who had once terrorized Manhattan, the man who had left his pregnant wife alone while he chased his mistress in a Mediterranean villa.

“Punishment implies I care enough about you to exact revenge, Lucian,” I said softly, leaning down just enough so my voice was meant for him alone. “This wasn't punishment. This was business. And in business, you never leave a liability unchecked.”