36 """She died two years ago,"" the mafia boss whispered, staring from the framed photo on the wall to the exact same face on mine.

I stared at her in absolute horror. "What... what did you say?"

"Matteo believed our marriage was about love," Clara said, stepping closer, her suppressed pistol never wavering from my heart. "He was naive. My father was a high-ranking capo in the Moretti family. I was planted in Matteo’s life six years ago to gather intelligence and eventually dismantle the D’Angelo empire from the inside."

She looked at Leo, her eyes completely vacant of any maternal affection. "Having the baby was a mistake—a tactical complication. But then I realized his existence was useful. A grieving father makes mistakes. A distracted Don loses his grip."

"You monster," I gasped, tears of pure fury burning my eyes. "He loved you! He burnt Palermo down looking for your killers!"

"And while he was burning Palermo, I was building an empire in the shadows with the Moretti family," Clara countered coldly. "I staged the car bomb, used a homeless woman's body to fake my death, and took thirty million dollars from Matteo’s private accounts."

She took another step toward me, holding out her free hand. "Now, give me the child."

"No!" I shouted, backing up as far as the desk allowed. "Over my dead body!"

"That can easily be arranged, cousin," Clara said, her finger tightening on the trigger. "The Morettis need the child to secure the legal trusts. Once Matteo dies tonight, Leo inherits the entire D’Angelo estate, and as his biological mother, I will assume full legal control of billions."

"He will never belong to you!" I yelled. "You aren't a mother! You're a disease!"

Clara’s eyes flashed with anger. "Give him to me!"

She lunged forward, grabbing my shoulder to rip Leo from my arms.

I didn't think. I reacted with pure, instinctual survival fury. I slammed my heavy glass tea cup—which was sitting on the control desk—straight into Clara’s face.

CRASH!

Clara shrieked as the glass shattered against her cheek, blood spraying as she staggered backward. Her gun discharged into the ceiling, blowing out one of the fluorescent lights, plunging the safe room into dim, red emergency illumination.

"You bitch!" Clara screamed, holding her bleeding cheek.

I didn't give her a chance to recover. I kicked the central steel chair toward her, sending her stumbling over the body of the fallen guard. I grabbed a heavy metal fire extinguisher from the wall and swung it with all my strength, striking Clara’s wrist.

Her suppressed pistol clattered across the steel floor, sliding beneath the control desk.

Clara growled, wiping blood from her face, her eyes filled with maniacal rage. She pulled a tactical combat knife from her belt, lunging at me.

"I am going to cut that pretty face off your head!" Clara roared.

I ducked behind the control island, holding Leo tightly with one arm while grabbing a heavy brass desk lamp with the other. Clara vaulted over the desk, her knife flashing red under the emergency lights.

She slashed downward. The blade sliced through my designer silk sleeve, cutting a long line across my forearm. Pain burned through my arm, but I ignored it, swinging the heavy brass lamp directly into her temple.

THWACK!