THE NIGHT THEY DRENCHED THE MAFIA KING’S HIDDEN WIFE—AND AWAKENED A WAR ONLY HER HEART COULD STOP

The fire crackled in the hearth, casting long, dancing shadows across the mahogany bookshelves of the study.

A quiet knock came at the heavy oak door.

Viktor stepped into the room, holding a encrypted digital tablet. He looked hesitant, his eyes flicking briefly to Eleanor before settling on Dante.

"Boss," Viktor said quietly. "We have a problem."

Dante did not let go of Eleanor’s hand. "What is it?"

"It’s not about the Monroe bank or the restaurant," Viktor said, stepping closer and handing the tablet to Dante. "While you were at Belladonna, a commercial container vessel named the Viper’s Crest entered international waters six miles off the coast of New Jersey."

Dante’s eyes narrowed slightly as he scanned the digital manifest on the screen. "That ship belongs to the Syndicate council in Chicago."

"Yes, Boss," Viktor confirmed. "And according to our port authority informants, the primary cargo manifest lists twelve heavy industrial containers consigned to... Monroe Commerce Bank."

Eleanor looked from Viktor to Dante, sensing the sudden shift in the air. "Dante? What does that mean?"

Dante looked at the tablet for three long seconds before turning his pale grey eyes back to Eleanor.

"It means Arthur Monroe wasn't just a vice president at a bank," Dante said softly. "He was laundering money for the Chicago council. When I froze his bank’s liquidity clearing accounts tonight to punish his daughter, I accidentally intercepted eighty million dollars belonging to Lorenzo Vance."

Eleanor gasped softly. "Lorenzo... your uncle?"

"My uncle," Dante confirmed, his jaw tightening into iron. "The man who fought my father for control of the eastern docks fifteen years ago. The man who has been waiting for an excuse to start a war in this city."

Viktor stepped forward. "Lorenzo’s inner circle just called an emergency meeting of the five families in Brooklyn for midnight tonight. They're saying you breached the council agreement by seizing a commercial shipment without a board vote."

Dante stood up smoothly from the floor. The gentle warmth in his eyes vanished entirely, replaced by the cold, calculating intelligence of a general preparing for battle.

"They want a war," Dante murmured, smoothing down his cashmere sweater.

"Dante, please," Eleanor said, standing up beside him, her fleece robe falling slightly open to reveal her sweater. "This started because of me. Because of a glass of soda. If your uncle uses this to—"

"No, Eleanor," Dante interrupted, stepping close to her and taking her face in his hands. "This did not start because of you. My uncle has been hiding weapons and illicit capital in Monroe’s bank for three years, waiting for the right moment to strike my perimeter. Your encounter with Tiffany Monroe didn't cause this war."