15 When my three-year-old daughter somehow escaped into the forbidden room of Providence’s most feared mafia boss and climbed onto his lap beside a loaded gun, I thought I was about to watch the end of our lives—until she touched the scar on his face and whispered the one thing no adult had ever dared tell him.

The silence in the bedroom was suffocating. I stood trembling before Jude, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I stared up at him. The cold authority radiating from him was palpable, filling the room until there was no air left to breathe.

"You knew he was going to call," I whispered.

"I had the security team tap the internal line the moment you moved into this wing," Jude said, his voice flat and unreadable. "I knew he would try to use you for intelligence."

"He’s my husband," I said, tears finally slipping down my cheeks. "He was supposed to protect us. He was supposed to be the man who cared about our future. And he just tried to trade my daughter’s safety for a payout."

Jude looked at me, his gaze softening just an inch. He stepped closer, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a clean linen handkerchief, handing it to me. "A man who uses his family as a bargaining chip isn't a husband, Clara. He’s an obstacle."

I took the handkerchief, wiping my eyes, my hands shaking uncontrollably. "What happens at Pawtucket tomorrow night?"

"Tristan won't show up at the front gates," Jude analyzed, turning toward the window to look out over the dark grounds. "He’s too cowardly. He’ll give the ledger to the Moretti family in Boston, and they will use the Pawtucket ironworks to set an ambush for me. They want to eliminate me and take control of Providence's shipping docks."

"Are you going?"

Jude turned his head, looking back at me over his shoulder. "Of course I am."

"It's a trap!" I cried softly, stepping toward him. "You just said they're setting an ambush!"

"It’s only a trap if you walk into it blind, Clara," Jude said, a dark, wicked glint flashing in his eyes. "Boston thinks they are dealing with a man defending a territory. They don't realize they are dealing with a man who has nothing left to lose."

He walked toward the door, stopping with his hand on the brass handle. He turned to look at me one last time.

"Tomorrow night, my men will lock down this entire wing. You, Brinley, Mrs. Gable, and Reggie will stay in the vault beneath the wine cellar until I return. Do not open that door for anyone except me."

"And if you don't return?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, a strange, terrifying knot forming in my stomach at the thought of Jude Mercer never walking through those doors again.

Jude stared at me for a long moment, his eyes searching my face. "If I don't return, Reggie has orders to take you and Brinley to a private airfield in Connecticut. You’ll be given new identities, two million dollars in cash, and a house in Montreal where no one will ever find you."