I woke to find the housekeeper I had nearly fired asleep beside my bed, her hand still resting on my mattress after spending the night keeping me alive. Everyone feared me as one of Chicago’s most untouchable mafia bosses, yet somehow this struggling single mother had done what no rival ever could—she made me smile for the first time in twenty-two years.

By three o'clock in the morning, the snowstorm had passed, leaving a quiet, pristine blanket of white across the estate grounds.

Police sirens echoed in the far distance, but they wouldn't cross the perimeter of the estate. The State Attorney General, who had received a anonymous package containing twenty years of Frank Moretti's offshore banking records and recorded confessions two hours earlier, had ensured the matter was handled quietly as an internal syndicate dispute.

The Moretti organization was completely mine now. Cleaned, restructured, and purged of every traitor who had sought to destroy it.

I sat in my wheelchair near the large bay window in my private bedroom.

The heavy iron shutters had been raised, allowing the crisp, cool air of the morning to fill the room.

The bedroom door opened softly, and Claire stepped inside carrying two warm mugs of cocoa. She looked exhausted, her sweater slightly disheveled, but her eyes were bright and filled with a quiet, peaceful warmth.

She set one mug on the side table beside my chair and sat down in the armchair right next to me, just as she had done the morning I woke up feverish.

"Owen is fast asleep in Margaret’s room," she said softly, wrapping her hands around her warm mug. "He slept through the whole thing."

"Good," I said, turning my eyes toward her. "He shouldn't have to grow up knowing about darkness like this."

Claire looked at me quietly for a long moment, her blue eyes reflecting the faint, silvery light of the moon outside.

"What happens now, Adrian?" she asked.

"Now... I change things," I said, reaching out to cover her hand with mine. "The syndicate is being dismantled, Claire. I'm transferring our operations into legitimate private security and real estate logistics. My father wanted out of the darkness twenty-two years ago. I'm going to finish what he started."

Claire smiled—a beautiful, radiant smile that warmed the cold room better than any fireplace ever could.

"That sounds like a heavy job," she whispered, her thumb gently stroking the back of my hand. "Are you going to fire your housekeeper?"