"You are the shame of my name," the mafia boss whispered—completely unaware his silent wife was walking out before dawn.

The mahogany double doors of the library swung open without a knock.

Victor Moretti strolled in, holding an antique glass of single malt. He looked impeccably relaxed in a bespoke double-breasted suit, entirely unbothered by the state of siege gripping the estate.

"You look stressed, cousin," Victor said, taking a leisurely seat on the leather Chesterfield sofa.

Adrian dismissed Luca and Marco with a curt wave of his hand. Once the door clicked shut, Adrian rounded his desk, stopping two feet from Victor.

"You saw her leave," Adrian said.

Victor raised an eyebrow, taking a slow sip of his Scotch. "The morning light is lovely from the library, Adrian. You should try watching the sunrise sometime. It clears the head."

"You watched my wife walk out of my house at four in the morning, and you didn't alert security."

"Why would I?" Victor set his glass down on the side table with deliberate precision. "Security is meant to keep enemies out, not to keep hostages in. Or did you forget that Sophia is a Vance? Her bloodline controlled the Hudson waterways before your grandfather even owned a distillery."

"She is my wife!" Adrian shouted, the veins in his neck bulging. "Her place is here!"

"Her place was taking your insults, apparently," Victor replied, his smile fading, replaced by a cold, calculating glare. "Isabella humiliated her in front of twelve capos last night. She treated the daughter of Arthur Vance like a scullery maid. And you, Adrian—the big, terrifying Don—stood there and told her she disgraced your name."

Victor stood up, leveling his eyes with Adrian’s. There was no fear in him. Victor commanded his own faction within the syndicate, a faction that was growing increasingly weary of Adrian's arrogance.

"A prized falcon doesn't belong in a chicken coop, cousin," Victor said softly. "You starved her of respect, and now she’s taken your harbor. And the funniest part? She didn't even take my offer to help her."

Adrian’s jaw tightened. "She refused you?"

"Told my man she’d kill him if he pushed her," Victor chuckled, though his eyes remained sharp. "She’s out there alone, Adrian. And she has the codes to Pier 42. Do you know who else knows the terminal is shut down?"

Adrian felt a cold dread settle in his stomach. "The Castiglione family."

"Precisely," Victor said, straightening his cuffs. "Sal Castiglione has been looking for an excuse to seize the northern shipping lanes for five years. Now that your domestic disaster has crippled our operations, Sal is sending his wolves out to hunt your little runaway. If he finds her first, Adrian, he won't just take the codes. He’ll send her back to you in pieces."

Victor turned and walked toward the door. At the threshold, he paused, looking over his shoulder.