"She expected him to protect her status, but she forgot that Gabriel Moretti never forgave cruelty disguised as authority." "His Fiancée Poured Hot Tea on the Maid in Front of Him—Then the Mafia Boss Took Off His Ring

"We have to go now, Dad!" she screamed at Arthur, who was pacing back and forth across the plush carpet while screaming into his phone.

"The federal marshals are already at my house!" Arthur yelled back, slamming his phone against the glass coffee table. "Gabriel leaked the files! The harbor authorities have locked down our entire fleet! We can't use the private jet—the FAA flagged our tail number!"

"Then we take a boat!" Camille cried, tears smearing her expensive mascara. "We have twenty million in bearer bonds in the safe! We can bribe someone at the southern docks!"

"You idiot!" Arthur shouted, turning on her with wild eyes. "This is all your fault! If you had just waited until the wedding night to use the toxin, we would own everything! Why did you do it at dinner?"

"Because he was looking at me like I was nothing!" Camille shrieked back, her voice hysterical. "He was looking at that dirty servant girl with more interest than he ever looked at me! I couldn't wait! I wanted him dead before he could change his mind!"

"Well, congratulations," a deep, dark voice echoed from the shadows near the entrance hall. "He didn't change his mind."

Camille and Arthur froze.

From the dimly lit hallway, Gabriel Moretti stepped into the penthouse suite. He wasn't wearing his usual tailored business suit. He wore a high-collared black tactical coat, his silver handguns held comfortably at his sides.

Behind him, two Russian enforcers in heavy leather coats walked in, calmly locking the reinforced penthouse doors and pulling down the heavy velvet blinds.

Arthur fell back against the couch, his face turning gray. "Gabriel... how did you get up here? Where are my guards?"

"Your guards were paid three thousand dollars each to take the night off," Gabriel said, strolling casually toward the center of the room. "Loyalty bought with money is very easy to outbid."

Camille backed away until her spine hit the floor-to-ceiling glass window. "Gabriel... please. It was my father's idea! He forced me to do it!"

Arthur’s eyes widened in disgust. "You lying little snake! You brought the poison from Europe!"

"Silence," Gabriel said gently, pointing the tip of his suppressed gun at Arthur.

The room went instantly silent.

"I didn't come here to listen to two rats blame each other for their own traps," Gabriel said softly. He pulled a small glass vial filled with amber liquid from his pocket and set it down on the table.

Camille’s breath hitched. It was the poison-laced bourbon from the estate.

"You know, Camille," Gabriel murmured, leaning against the edge of the marble bar. "I was raised in a world where violence is a daily currency. But even in my world, there are rules. You don't target the innocent. You don't use cowards' tricks. And you certainly don't disrespect my table."

He gestured toward the glass vial.

"Drink it," Gabriel said flatly.

Camille gasped, shaking her head violently. "No! Please, Gabriel! I love you! I was just confused! I was jealous!"

"Drink it, or Marco drops your father out of that window," Gabriel said without an ounce of emotion.

Marco immediately stepped up to Arthur, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and dragging him effortlessly toward the balcony door. Arthur began to scream and thrash wildly. "Camille! Drink it! Save me, you crazy bitch! Drink it!"

"Three seconds, Camille," Gabriel counted calmly, raising his watch. "One..."

"Stop! Stop!" Camille sobbed, falling to her knees beside the table. Her manicured hands trembled uncontrollably as she reached for the small glass vial. "Please, Gabriel... have mercy..."

"Mercy is expensive," Gabriel quoted his father’s old lesson, looking down at her with cold detachment. "And you spent all of yours on a cup of tea."

With tears streaming down her face, Camille uncapped the vial. Her hand shook so violently that liquid spilled over her fingers. She brought it to her lips, closed her eyes, and swallowed the dark fluid in one gulp.

She collapsed onto the floor, choking, waiting for the cold paralysis to claim her heart.

Five seconds passed. Ten seconds.

Nothing happened.

Camille opened her eyes, gasping for air, clutching her throat. "I... I'm not dying?"

Gabriel looked down at her, a bitter, contemptuous smile gracing his face.

"It’s plain water, Camille," Gabriel revealed softly. "I wanted to see if you had the courage to face the fate you planned for me. But as expected... you’re just a coward."

Before Camille could process his words, the heavy front doors of the penthouse were kicked open with a thunderous bang.

"FBI! Don't move!"

A squad of federal agents in tactical gear flooded into the room, rifles raised, LED lights illuminating the chaotic scene.

Gabriel calmly raised his hands, stepping away from the guns resting on the table. Marco did the same, offering no resistance whatsoever.

"Arthur Whitaker! Camille Whitaker!" the lead agent announced loudly, unholstering two pairs of heavy steel handcuffs. "You are under arrest for federal racketeering, conspiracy to commit murder, and treasonous smuggling operations!"

As the agents slammed Arthur and Camille face-down onto the carpet, clicking the steel cuffs tightly around their wrists, Camille looked up at Gabriel through her tears.

Gabriel casually picked up his coat, nodding politely to the lead FBI agent. "Agent Miller. Everything you need is on the flash drive on the desk. Have a good evening."

"Thanks for the tip, Moretti," Agent Miller replied, stepping aside to let Gabriel walk out.

Camille screamed as she was dragged to her feet by two agents. "Gabriel! You set this up! You called them!"