The Mafia Boss Who Divorced Me for Another Woman Dropped to His Knees at a Manhattan Gala When He Saw Three Identical Pairs of Gray-Green Eyes—And Realized Serena Had Kept His Sons Secret From Him

Before Gabriel could even issue an order, two of his personal security enforcers—massive men in dark tuxoides stationed near the perimeter of the room—moved with terrifying speed, cutting off Serena’s escape route and gently, firmly steering her back toward the center of the dais.

—Let me go! You have no right! Gabriel, tell your thugs to release me! —Serena shrieked, her face flushed with humiliation and rising panic as the surrounding guests whispered behind their champagne flutes.

Gabriel didn't look at her. His eyes remained locked on me, heavy with a complex storm of shock, grief, and a fierce, terrifying protectiveness that sent a shiver down my spine.

He stood up slowly, stepping closer to me and the boys. Julian and Leo instinctively mirrored their brother, stepping closer to my legs, forming a tiny, defensive wall. Gabriel noticed their protective stance, and a look of profound sorrow flashed across his hardened features.

—You protected them from me, —Gabriel said quietly, stating it not as an accusation, but as a devastating realization.

—You were married to the mob, Gabriel, —I replied, my voice holding firm despite the tremor in my chest. —Even when you tried to keep me sheltered in Westchester, your enemies knew my name. When I found out I was carrying triplets, I knew what kind of life awaited them. Assassins, car bombs, midnight raids, rival syndicates using my children as leverage... I couldn't live like that. And I refused to let my sons grow up as targets in your war.

Gabriel closed his eyes for a second, swallowing hard.

—And Serena? —he asked, his voice dropping an octave as he turned his glacial glare toward the trembling woman standing between his two bodyguards. —Why did you look at her like she was holding a smoking gun when she tried to pull me away?

Serena’s face went chalk-white. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water, her fingers digging into her handbag.

—I... I didn't mean anything by it, Gabriel! I was just shocked! Seeing your ex-wife show up out of nowhere with three children claiming to be yours—of course I wanted to protect you from a paternity scam!

—A scam? —I let out a cold, humorless laugh, stepping forward. —Serena, do you really think DNA tests are that hard to forge in Manhattan? You didn't panic because you thought it was a scam. You panicked because you remembered.

Gabriel turned his head sharply toward me. —Remembered what, Claire?

I took a deep breath, stepping closer to Gabriel so the boys couldn't hear every sharp detail of the nightmare.

—Five years ago, two weeks after I left the estate, I received an anonymous package at my temporary apartment in Brooklyn, —I said, my eyes fixed on Serena’s terror-stricken face. —Inside the envelope were photographs of me walking out of my OB-GYN clinic on the Upper West Side. And a typewritten note that said: ‘Keep your belly flat and your mouth shut, little bird. If Gabriel finds out about the heirs, your little bastards won’t live long enough to see their first birthday.’

The temperature in the ballroom seemed to drop twenty degrees.

Gabriel’s body went completely rigid. The air around him turned into ice. The dark, lethal aura of the syndicate boss—a man who had buried enemies in concrete and burned empires to ash—exploded outward with terrifying intensity.

He slowly turned his head to look at Serena.

Serena stumbled backward, her knees trembling so badly she nearly collapsed onto the carpet.

—Gabriel... no... it’s a lie! She’s making it up to destroy us! —Serena wailed, tears streaming down her carefully made-up face.

Gabriel didn't yell. He didn't raise his voice. He walked toward her with the slow, terrifying grace of a predator closing in on a wounded deer.

—You threatened my children, —Gabriel whispered, his voice like the grinding of tectonic plates.

—I love you! I did it for us! I wanted your empire, your life, without baggage! —Serena shrieked, breaking down completely under the crushing weight of his gaze.

Gabriel stopped inches from her, his hand reaching out not to strike her, but to signal his chief enforcer, Viktor, who stepped forward instantly with a pair of heavy black leather gloves and a pair of industrial zip-ties.

—Take her to the Brooklyn warehouse, —Gabriel commanded coldly, his eyes devoid of any human mercy. —And make sure she stays alive long enough to tell me every single person she conspired with.

—Gabriel! No! Please! —Serena screamed as Viktor and another guard dragged her kicking and thrashing across the grand ballroom, past the horrified gasps of Manhattan’s elite, straight toward the service elevators.

The heavy doors closed behind her, cutting off her shrieks.