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Chapter 8 - THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF RUSSO"Dante! Do something!" Serena shrieked, clawing at his arm. "Have them arrested! Kill them!"

Dante didn't move. He couldn't move. The ground beneath his feet was crumbling, and he knew it.

"The federal authorities," a cold, calm voice echoed from the back of the ballroom.

The double doors swung open once more, and a dozen federal agents in tactical gear marched in, led by a senior FBI director who walked straight up to Dante and pulled out a pair of steel handcuffs.

"Dante Russo, you are under arrest for racketeering, money laundering, and conspiracy," the agent announced, his voice booming through the hall.

Dante didn't resist. He didn't even try to reach for a weapon. He simply stood there, a defeated king watching his kingdom burn to ash.

As the agents slapped the cuffs onto his wrists and began leading him past the crowd, Dante stopped right in front of Evelyn. He looked down at her, his eyes filled with a heavy, agonizing mix of regret, awe, and bitter defeat.

"You beat me," Dante whispered, his voice cracking. "You actually beat me."

Evelyn didn't smile. She didn't gloat. She simply looked at him the way a judge looks at a convict whose sentence has already been passed.

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"You built an empire on sand, Dante," Evelyn said quietly. "I built mine on survival."

As Dante was led away in handcuffs, Serena Bell collapsed onto the floor in a heap of red velvet and mascara, completely abandoned by the man who had promised her the world. Little Leo stood crying in the corner, a spoiled child realizing for the first time that his borrowed crown had turned to dust.

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