His brother grabbed my wrist and laughed, so I slapped him hard enough to silence the entire room. Everyone froze when the mafia boss rose from his chair. “Do you know who I am?” he asked coldly. I met his eyes and smiled. “Wait your turn.” His men reached inside their jackets—but the boss suddenly lifted one hand to stop them. Then he looked at me differently, and I realized the real punishment was only beginning.

Three months later.

The winter snow covered the city of Chicago under a clean, blinding blanket of white.

Inside the newly renovated high-rise office on Michigan Avenue, the gold lettering on the glass door read: Russo & Associates — Forensic Financial Consulting.

My private practice was fully operational. I had severed all ties with the federal prosecutor’s office, choosing instead to run an independent firm dedicated to uncovering corporate corruption, financial fraud, and institutional embezzlement.

My primary client was Moretti Enterprises—now fully restructured under Adrian’s absolute command.

Under Adrian’s leadership, the legitimate construction, real estate, and shipping divisions of the Moretti empire had been entirely separated from the dark underworld elements of his past. Marco had been sentenced to twenty years in a federal penitentiary in Indiana, while Kane was facing thirty years without the possibility of parole.

The heavy oak door of my corner office opened, and Frank stepped in, holding a leather brief bag.

“Good afternoon, Miss Russo,” Frank said respectfully, setting a thick stack of audited balance sheets on my desk. “The board approved the new housing development contracts for the West Side this morning. Every line item matches your audit to the cent.”

“Thank you, Frank,” I said, signing the cover page. “Is Adrian still in meetings?”

“He just finished,” Frank said, a subtle, knowing smile touching his face. “He’s waiting for you on the private terrace.”

I picked up my wool coat, wrapping it around my shoulders, and walked out onto the high-altitude glass terrace overlooking the frozen expanse of Lake Michigan.

Adrian stood by the glass railing, holding two warm cups of coffee, looking out at the city skyline. He looked younger, lighter, the heavy lines of stress around his eyes softened by the passage of time and the clean structure we had built together.

He turned as I approached, handing me a cup.