692 The mafia boss’s baby refused every person in the restaurant—until a broke waitress picked him up and he clung to her like he had finally found home.

The Moretti coastal mansion sat on a high cliff overlooking the crashing waves of the ocean—a fortress of glass, steel, and ruthless power.

Rain lashed down in sheets as our convoy of black armored sedans pulled up to the main entrance. Dozens of heavily armed bodyguards lined the marble steps, their hands resting on their weapons as Lorenzo stepped out of the car.

He was dressed in a pristine black tuxedo, radiating absolute power and lethality. He held out his hand, and I stepped out beside him, wearing an elegant emerald green evening gown that hugged every curve, concealing the thin Kevlar vest underneath.

As we walked up the steps, every bodyguard’s jaw dropped. Murmurs of disbelief echoed through the crowd.

"Is that... is that Elena?!" "Impossible! She died last year!"

Lorenzo kept his arm firmly around my waist, guiding me into the grand banquet hall where the heads of the five major crime families were seated around a massive oak table.

At the head of the table sat Don Moretti—an elderly, cruel-looking man with silver hair and cold, reptilian eyes.

When Moretti saw us walk in, his wine glass slipped from his hand, shattering against the marble floor. He scrambled to his feet, his face turning pale as paper.

"L-Lorenzo?!" Moretti stammered, his eyes darting wildly to me. "And... Elena?! What black magic is this?!"

"No magic, Moretti," Lorenzo’s voice echoed like thunder across the high-ceilinged room. "Just a debt long overdue for payment."

The other four mafia bosses stood up, their guards immediately drawing weapons. "Lorenzo! What is the meaning of this? Moretti claimed your compound was destroyed tonight!"

"Moretti lied," Lorenzo declared, walking up to the table. He tossed the encrypted USB drive onto the center of the wood. "On that drive is absolute proof that Don Moretti broke the Syndicate Peace Accord. He embezzled fifty million dollars from council funds, hired hitmen to murder my wife fourteen months ago, and ordered a strike on my infant son tonight."

The room erupted in furious shouts. Don Moretti panicked, backing away toward his guards.

"LIES! IT’S ALL LIES!" Moretti roared, drawing a concealed gun from his jacket. "KILL THEM ALL!"

"DON'T MOVE!" Lorenzo shouted, his own weapon cleared from his holster faster than the eye could follow.

Before Moretti could pull the trigger, I stepped forward from behind Lorenzo, my voice ringing out clear, fierce, and loud across the entire hall.

"Look at my face, Moretti!" I yelled.

Moretti froze, staring at me in sheer terror.

"You thought you wiped out my sister's bloodline," I said, stepping closer without a single flinch. "You thought you could murder a mother, target a helpless baby, and steal a kingdom. But justice doesn't die so easily."

The head of the Chicago family plugged the USB drive into his tablet, scanning the decrypted files quickly. His face turned to stone.

"It's all here," the Chicago boss said coldly, looking up at Moretti. "You violated the council code, Moretti. You signed your own death warrant."