When my Mafia ex-husband saw the three identical gray-green eyes staring back at him across the ballroom, the most feared man in Manhattan finally started to shake.

At 3:00 PM that afternoon, a fleet of federal law enforcement vehicles surrounded a grand stone estate in Greenwich, Connecticut.

Dante Moretti, a sixty-year-old crime boss with silver hair and an expensive silk suit, was led out of his front doors in heavy steel handcuffs. He was flanked by ten armed FBI agents, his face twisted in shock and rage as news cameras flashed from behind the perimeter barricades.

Gabriel Cross stood across the street, leaning casually against the hood of his black SUV, wearing a tailored navy coat. I stood beside him, my arm linked securely through his.

As the agents led Moretti toward the transport van, the old mob boss caught sight of Gabriel.

"Cross!" Moretti roared, straining against his handcuffs. "You rat bastard! You went to the feds?!"

Gabriel pushed off the SUV, walking slowly toward the perimeter fence, dragging me along with him. He stopped a few feet from Moretti, looking down at his old rival with cold, supreme detachment.

"I didn't go to the feds, Dante," Gabriel said softly, his voice carrying easily over the noise of the idling engines. "I simply gave them the financial audit logs for your Chicago shipping lines. The logs your mole, Serena Vale, thought she had destroyed."

Moretti’s eyes widened in realization. "You... you set this up."

"You came into my city," Gabriel whispered, leaning in closer so only Moretti could hear his words. "You threatened my wife. And you sent armed men into a house where my three sons were sleeping."

Moretti spat on the ground. "You're soft, Cross! You surrendered your code for a woman and some bastards!"

Gabriel’s eyes flashed with a lethal, terrifying heat. He stepped right up to Moretti, his dark shadow engulfing the old man.

"They are not bastards, Dante," Gabriel growled, his voice dropping into a register that made even the surrounding FBI agents look nervous. "They are my heirs. And because of them, your empire is being dismantled by the federal government line by line. You will spend the rest of your miserable life in a maximum-security cell in Colorado. And your name will be forgotten."

Gabriel turned his back on Moretti, walking away without another word.

"Cross! Gabriel!" Moretti screamed as the agents shoved him into the back of the armored van, slamming the doors shut.

I walked beside Gabriel as we returned to our SUV. The sun was beginning to set over the Connecticut hills, casting golden light across the pavement.

"Is it over?" I asked quietly.