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The Falcone estate had seen blood spilled on its marble floors before, but never anything quite like this. / Chapter 8 / 8

Chapter 8 - THE EMPIRE REBUILT

Three months later, the Falcone estate looked entirely different.

The harsh, oppressive gloom that had hung over the grand halls for decades seemed to have lifted, replaced by the soft, warm sunlight streaming through the freshly polished stained-glass windows. The Rossi syndicate had been completely dismantled by federal authorities, its assets seized and absorbed into legitimate shipping enterprises now managed jointly by Lucas and Nadia.

Bianca Rossi was currently serving a twenty-year sentence in a maximum-security federal penitentiary, her platinum hair dyed brown, stripped of her diamonds, her name, and her power—living the exact fate she had once so casually tried to inflict on a defenseless widow.

In the master suite, the heavy mahogany doors stood wide open.

Lucas Falcone—the ruthless mafia boss, the king of the waterfront—was currently lying flat on his back on the plush white carpet, looking entirely ridiculous and completely at peace.

Resting securely on his broad chest was a healthy, two-week-old baby girl with a shock of thick, midnight-black hair, letting out soft, rhythmic sighs as she slept.

Nadia stood by the window, wearing a soft cream-colored dress, watching them with a gentle smile playing on her lips. The scars of the past—the debt, the fake identities, the terror of the ballroom—were gone, washed away by the tide of a new beginning.

Lucas carefully shifted his gaze up from the baby to meet Nadia’s eyes. A slow, rare smile touched the corners of his mouth—a smile that only she would ever get to see.

"She has your hair," Lucas whispered softly, careful not to wake the child.

Nadia walked over, kneeling beside them on the carpet, pressing a soft kiss to Lucas’s cheek before running her fingers gently through the baby’s dark locks.

"And she has your stubbornness," Nadia replied, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

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My hand froze inches from the cold steel of the Sig Sauer P226. Beneath the amber glow of the bedside lamp, the source of the warmth against my side wasn't an assassin, an operative from a rival syndicate, or a traitorous lieutenant.

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The silence in the master bedroom stretched so tight I could hear the slow, heavy drip of my own pulse in my ears. Dominic Rossi’s dark eyes locked onto mine, burning with a feverish intensity that should have sent me running back down the hallway and out into the rain

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Lucas reached out, wrapping his strong arm around Nadia’s waist, pulling her down beside him so that the three of them—once broken, hunted, and invisible—were now bound together by an unbreakable bond of love, power, and absolute protection.

The cruelest night of their lives had become the foundation of an empire that no one would ever be able to tear down again.

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