"I brought divorce papers to my missing wife’s hospital room—unaware the nurse’s warning about my best friend was about to change everything."

Mateo Bell sat in the front passenger seat, wearing an expensive charcoal suit, tapping his gold fountain pen against his leather notepad.

He looked at his watch.

1:45 PM.

"What is taking him so long?" Mateo muttered to the driver, a broad-shouldered enforcer named Joey. "He was supposed to walk in, hand her the divorce papers, and come right back out."

"Maybe she made a scene, Mateo," Joey suggested, taking a sip of lukewarm coffee from a paper cup. "You know how women get when the Rossi lawyers step in."

Mateo sneered, a dark, arrogant smile touching his lips. "It doesn't matter. Once those divorce papers are signed, her name is off the Harbor Relief accounts. By tomorrow morning, the Moretti family takes control of the Pier 19 shipping terminals, and Dominic will think his wife left him for a ghost."

Suddenly, the Maybach’s interior lights flickered and went completely dark.

The electric door locks engaged with a heavy, mechanical CLICK.

Mateo froze. His hand dropped toward his coat pocket. "Joey... what the hell did you just press?"

"I didn't press anything, Mateo!" Joey stammered, pulling at his door handle. "The master override was triggered from the outside!"

THWIP! THWIP!

Suppressed rounds bit cleanly through the driver’s side glass, shattering the heavy reinforced window into a thousand tiny webbed cracks.

Before Joey could reach for his shoulder holster, the driver’s door was yanked open from the outside with brutal force.

A massive hand reached inside, grabbing Joey by his shirt collar, dragging his broad frame straight out into the rainy pavement, while four heavily armed men in dark tactical gear surrounded the Maybach.

Leading them was Leo—my chief of security.

Leo didn't draw his weapon. He stood in the rain, holding a thick leather folder, looking into the front passenger window at Mateo with cold, detached disdain.

"Get out of the car, Mateo," Leo spoke flatly, his baritone carried easily over the rain.

Mateo’s face went paper-white. He reached frantically for the door handle, but the rear passenger door opened.

I stepped into the back seat.

I didn't wear my wool coat. I wore my black vest and shirt, my sleeves rolled up to my forearms, exposing the thick ink of my family crest. My eyes were gray as storm clouds, cold as winter ice, and completely devoid of any lingering brotherhood.

I sat back against the leather seat, resting my broad hands on my knees.

"Dom...!" Mateo stammered, his voice cracking into a high, pathetic squeak as he turned his head around. "Dom... thank God! Leo’s men just attacked Joey! I don't know what's going on—"

"Where is the three million dollars from the South Side accounts, Mateo?" I asked softly.