At my husband's birthday party, he had me hung from a ceiling beam and whipped 30 times for staining his mistress's $30,000 dress. His family laughed and filmed my humiliation, never imagining that one phone call to my five feared brothers would put their entire empire in danger.

Eleanor Vale backed away until her spine hit the conservatory glass.

"Do you know who we are?" she hissed, her aristocratic facade crumbling into raw hysteria. "You are common criminals! Savages! We are the Vales of Manhattan! My family funded the state supreme court justice’s campaign! You will all hang for this!"

Luca walked slowly toward the table, pulling out the chair Adrian had just occupied. He brushed an invisible speck of dust from the seat and sat down.

"Your father was a loan shark who laundered money through laundromats in Queens, Eleanor," Luca said calmly, resting his elbows on the glass table. "You married Richard Vale because his family had a decaying mansion and an old name, but no money. For forty years, you have lived on stolen credit and offshore tax fraud."

Dante walked into the room carrying a thin leather briefcase. He opened it and dropped a thick ream of documents directly in front of Eleanor.

"What is this?" she whispered, trembling.

"That is the full audit of your charitable foundation," Dante said with a predatory smile. "The one you used to siphon eight million dollars to pay for your personal jewelry, your Mediterranean vacations, and Marcus’s gambling debts in Macau. The IRS Criminal Investigation Division signed the arrest warrants forty minutes ago."

Eleanor’s knees gave out. She slumped into her chair, her face grey, her perfectly styled hair falling loose around her temples.

Marcus looked up from the floor, tears streaming down his face. "I didn't whip her! It was Adrian! Adrian held the whip! I only filmed it because they told me to!"

"You filmed it," Matteo said, stepping over to Marcus. He leaned down, his face inches from the younger brother’s nose. "You held a camera while our little sister hung from a beam. You zoomed in on her tears, Marcus. I watched the video. You made a joke about her shoes."

Marcus began to sob openly, pressing himself flat against the rug. "Please... please, don't kill me..."

"Killing you is too easy," Luca said from the table. "You’re going to Rikers Island. Marco made sure the union members who run the transport blocks know your name. You will find prison life very... educational."

Vanessa was trembling violently, her hands clutching the collar of my mother’s sapphire pendant. She looked at Adrian, who was kneeling on the floor, groaning in pain, and then looked at Luca. Her survival instincts, honed from years of climbing social ladders, kicked in.

"I... I was forced into this," Vanessa stammered, her voice dropping into a desperate, breathy whisper. "Adrian threatened me! He said if I didn't play along, he would cut me off! I never wanted Anna to get hurt! Please, Mr. Moretti... look at me. I'm a victim here too!"

Luca didn't even turn his head toward her.