THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME CRAWL UNDER HIS ENGAGEMENT TABLE TO FIND HIS TEN-YEAR-OLD SON'S WHITE CANE—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “HE THREW IT AWAY BECAUSE HE WANTED ATTENTION,” BEFORE HE EVEN ASKED WHY THE BLIND LITTLE BOY WAS ON HIS KNEES, CRYING AND BEGGING ME NOT TO MAKE HIM WALK ALONE AGAIN.

The morning after the Drake Hotel gala, the sun broke through the heavy cloud cover over Lake Michigan, casting sharp beams of light across the private study of the Moretti estate. I sat at the mahogany table with a stack of financial ledgers that Dante had retrieved from the downtown accounting firm. Noah was in the garden with Luca, practicing his cane sweeps along the gravel path, his laughter echoing faintly through the open French doors.

My fingers traced the line of wire transfers that Vanessa had attempted to conceal behind the foundation's shell accounts. It wasn't just the two-hundred-thousand-dollar endowment she had targeted; there were smaller, systematic withdrawals dating back eight months. Thousands of dollars diverted from pediatric equipment funds straight into offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands.

The door opened quietly, and Luca stepped inside. He had shed his suit jacket, his white dress shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms, carrying two steaming mugs of coffee. He set one down beside my papers and pulled up a leather chair.

"You've been looking at those numbers for two hours, Hannah," Luca said softly. "Take a break. You're going to give yourself a headache."

"I'm fine, Mr. Moretti," I murmured, rubbing my temples. "I just... I can't believe how methodical she was. She even had Dr. Vance, the ophthalmologist who evaluated Noah last year, sign off on reports claiming Noah's vision was deteriorating faster than it actually was, just to justify the European boarding school transfer."

Luca's face hardened, his jaw clenching. "Vance is already on his way to a federal holding cell. My men picked him up outside his clinic an hour ago. He confessed that Vanessa paid him fifty thousand dollars to alter Noah's medical chart."

My breath caught. "You had him picked up?"

"Nobody touches my son," Luca said, his voice dropping into that cold, absolute register that left no room for argument. "And nobody uses medical fraud to steal his future."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, his dark eyes softening as he looked at me. "More importantly, Dante's forensic team found the secondary ledger. The one detailing Vanessa's arrangement with her father's creditors. Marco Bellini has officially cut her off. She has twenty-four hours to vacate her Lake Shore condo, or her father's assets will be seized entirely by my legal team."

Before I could reply, a sharp knock sounded at the study door. Dante pushed it open, holding a secure encrypted tablet.

"Boss," Dante said grimly. "We have a problem at the front gate. One of our night-shift security guards—the one who was caught on camera talking on a burner phone during the gala last night—just tried to slip past the outer perimeter. We caught him, but he dropped this."

Dante handed the tablet to Luca. On the screen was a text message thread from an unknown international number.

*“Target family isolated at the Chicago estate. The girl and the blind kid are unprotected during weekend transit. Execute phase two by midnight.”*