88I came home early and nearly fired the young maid I found sitting on my kitchen floor, making my three daughters laugh for the first time since their mother was murdered. But before I could throw her out, my eldest daughter grabbed my coat, looked me straight in the eyes, and spoke her first words in fourteen months: “Daddy killed Mommy.”

The rain was falling in relentless sheets over the East River, turning the concrete expanse of the Brooklyn shipping terminal into a dark, oil-slicked maze of shipping containers and flickering yellow halogen lights.

At 11:30 p.m., my two black Suburbans pulled through the rear gates of Terminal 4, their engines rumbling quietly against the sound of distant foghorns.

Julian Mercer stood beneath the awning of the main warehouse, flanked by four of his private security operatives. He wore a heavy wool overcoat, a cigar tucked between his lips, a smug smile resting on his face as my vehicle came to a stop twenty feet away.

I stepped out into the pouring rain, accompanied only by Marco.

"Dominic!" Julian called out, stepping forward with open arms. "You're late! The freighter from Rotterdam is already docking at Pier Nine. We need your biometric authorization to clear the manifest."

I didn't answer. I walked slowly across the wet concrete, my leather shoes splashing through puddles, my hands tucked inside my coat pockets.

Julian’s smile faded slightly as he noticed the cold, expressionless look on my face, and the fact that Marco was standing five paces behind me with his hand tucked inside his jacket.

"Dominic? Is something wrong?" Julian asked, his eyes darting to Marco, then back to me.

I stopped four feet away from him.

"Fourteen months ago, Julian," I said, my voice cutting through the sound of the rain like a sharp blade. "You asked me for permission to head the security sweep in Queens after Isabella died."

Julian blinked, his jaw tightening slightly. "Yes... of course. We hunted down every Mendoza dog in the city."

"You did a very thorough job," I continued smoothly. "You made sure none of those Mendoza hitmen lived long enough to speak to me. You executed them in the field before I could ask them who paid them to box my wife's car in."

Julian took a slow step back, his right hand drifting imperceptibly toward his belt. "Dominic, what are you talking about? We were brothers. I helped you build this empire—"

"Where is my father's silver watch, Julian?" I asked softly.

The air left Julian’s lungs.

For half a second, the mask of the loyal lieutenant slipped, revealing the cold, calculating predator beneath. His eyes narrowed, his hand darted into his coat—

BANG!

A single gunshot shattered the night air.

Julian screamed in pain as Marco’s bullet tore through his right shoulder, spinning him around! His gun clattered onto the wet pavement!

Julian’s four security operatives reached for their weapons, but before they could draw, six of my men stepped out from behind the surrounding shipping containers, their submachine guns raised, red laser sights painting the chests of Julian's guards.

"Drop your weapons!" Marco barked.

The four guards wisely raised their hands and dropped their pistols onto the wet asphalt.

Julian lay on his back in the cold puddle, clutching his bleeding shoulder, panting heavily as he looked up at me.

I stepped forward, towering over him, pulling my pistol from my holster and aiming it directly between his eyes.

"Why?" I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm. "I gave you everything. Wealth, power, loyalty. Why Isabella?"

Julian let out a bloody, bitter laugh, wiping rain and red foam from his lips. "You gave me crumbs, Dominic! You sat on your throne in Long Island, playing the respectable billionaire, while I did the dirty work in the streets! The Mendozas offered me fifty million dollars and a thirty percent stake in their eastern distribution network if I removed you."

"So you killed my wife," I said, my thumb clicking the hammer of the pistol back.

"She was collateral damage!" Julian spat, his face contorted in rage. "You were supposed to be in that car with her! But when you survived, I knew I had to finish you from the inside. I took your watch, I wore it, I made sure your little girls saw me! I knew trauma would break your mind, and in six months, you'd kill yourself or end up in a federal prison!"