TAKE THAT LITTLE GIRL'S MICROPHONE AWAY, YOU IGNORANT LITTLE MAID! SHE HAS NOTHING IMPORTANT TO SAY!”

Gunfire erupted three miles from the estate, but the shockwaves rippled through every corridor of the Moretti mansion.

Luca was on his feet in a split second, strapping a customized Sig Sauer into his shoulder holster and barking orders into his radio.

“Marco! Mobilize the secondary strike team to the docks! Dante, maintain perimeter defense here. No one enters or leaves the grounds!”

“Luca, what’s happening?” I asked, my heart pounding in my ears.

“A diversion,” Luca snarled, racking the slide of his weapon with lethal efficiency. “They hit the warehouse to draw my heavy forces away from the estate. Antonio knows how I operate. He thinks I'll ride out with my men.”

He grabbed me by the shoulders, his grip firm and urgent. “Emily, take Bella to the safe room beneath the wine cellar. Now. Do not come out until you hear three knocks and my voice.”

“Are you leaving?” Panic surged into my voice, an instinctive terror of losing him that I hadn't expected to feel.

Luca looked down at me, his eyes burning with fierce determination. “I don't leave my family behind to chase shadows. I stay right here.”

Before I could turn to leave, a deafening explosion shattered the quiet night air.

The mansion shook. Plaster rained down from the ceiling. Outside, the screech of tires and the chatter of automatic gunfire erupted from the front gates.

“They breached the outer wall!” a voice screamed over Luca’s radio through bursts of static. *“Black SUVs! Falcone’s vanguard—they’re on the lawn!”*

Luca cursed violently in Italian. He shoved me toward the hallway. “Run! Get Bella!”

I bolted down the corridor toward Isabella’s room. Smoke was already beginning to drift through the ventilation shafts. Isabella was standing by her bed, clutching her stuffed rabbit, her eyes wild with terror.

“Emily!” she cried.

“I've got you, baby, I've got you!” I scooped her up into my arms and sprinted toward the back servant’s stairwell that led directly to the cellar.

Behind us, the front doors of the mansion were blown off their hinges with a thunderous blast. Men shouted in Italian and English; shotgun blasts tore through the priceless paintings in the grand foyer.

I flew down the spiral stairs, my lungs burning, Isabella clinging tightly to my neck. We reached the basement level—a subterranean maze of brick corridors and wine racks dating back to the 1920s.

Suddenly, a heavy shadow stepped out from behind a concrete pillar.

I skidded to a halt on the cold stone floor, gasping for air.

Standing before the entrance to the safe room was not a Moretti guard.

It was Vanessa Bellini.

She wore black leather pants and a dark trench coat, her hair pulled back into a severe ponytail. In her right hand, she held a silenced semi-automatic pistol. Her face was twisted into a grotesque, manic sneer.

“Well, well,” Vanessa purred, raising the barrel directly at my forehead. “The heroic little maid and the bastard child.”

“Vanessa,” I panted, shielding Isabella behind my back. “Let the child go. She has done nothing to you.”

“She took everything from me!” Vanessa hissed, stepping closer, her finger tightening on the trigger. “Luca was mine! His empire was mine! My father is currently being hunted across three states because of this little parasite! If I can't have the Moretti dynasty, Luca will watch his precious bloodline rot in the dirt!”

“Mommy was right about you,” Isabella’s voice rang out from behind me, small but steady. “You're a monster.”

Vanessa’s eyes flared with murderous rage. “Shut up, you little brat!”

She raised the gun to shoot.

Adrenaline surged through my veins. I didn't think; I didn't calculate. I lunged forward, throwing my entire body weight into Vanessa’s chest before she could pull the trigger.

A gunshot cracked—the bullet ricocheted wildly off the brick wall behind us, showering Isabella with stone dust.

Vanessa and I crashed onto the cold concrete. She shrieked, scratching at my eyes with her long acrylic nails, but I gripped her gun wrist with both hands, slamming it repeatedly against the floor.

“Drop it!” I screamed.

Vanessa slammed her elbow into my cheek. Pain exploded across my jaw; the taste of metallic blood flooded my mouth. She rolled over, pinning me to the floor, her hands wrapping around my throat, choking the air from my lungs.

“You ruined my life!” Vanessa snarled, her face inches from mine, spitting with fury. “You're just a filthy maid! You're nothing!”

Dark spots danced before my eyes. I couldn't breathe. I clawed at her hands, but her weight was suffocating.

Suddenly, a heavy ceramic wine bottle shattered across the side of Vanessa’s head.

Vanessa gasped, stunned, her grip loosening. Behind her stood Isabella, holding the broken neck of a vintage Merlot, tears streaming down her face, her eyes fierce with a defiance that belonged entirely to Elena and Luca Moretti.

Taking advantage of the shock, I shoved Vanessa off me and kicked the gun across the cellar floor.

Vanessa stumbled back, clutching her bleeding temple, her eyes wild with demonic fury. She pulled a serrated hunting knife from the inside of her trench coat. “I'll gut you both!”

She raised the blade.

*BANG.*

A single gunshot tore through the cellar.

Vanessa’s body jerked violently. The knife slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the stones. A neat red hole bloomed in the center of her chest.

She looked down at the blood spreading across her silk shirt, then looked up with hollow, disbelieving eyes.

Standing at the entrance of the cellar corridor was Luca.

His face was streaked with soot and blood. His gun was still smoking. His eyes were devoid of any mercy.

“Nobody touches my family,” Luca said coldly.