AT THE BIRTHDAY PARTY, MY HUSBAND HUNG ME FROM THE CEILING BEAM AND WHPPED ME 30 TIMES, JUST BECAUSE I HAD STAINED HIS MISTRESS'S CLOTHES. I CALLED MY FIVE GANGSTER BROTHERS: "MAKE HIS ENTIRE FAMILY LIVE A FATE WORSE THAN DETH."

At 3:30 AM, in the boardroom of the Moretti Tower in Lower Manhattan, five men sat around a monolithic marble table.

Luca, the eldest, forty-two, sat at the head. He was the strategist, the patriarch who had transitioned the family from the brutal street wars of Brooklyn into an untouchable corporate syndicate spanning international logistics and private defense.

To his right sat Matteo, thirty-eight, a mountain of muscle and scar tissue who ran Moretti Marine Security and the Eastern Seaboard dockyards. Matteo’s hands were the size of shovels; he was currently rolling an unlit cigar between thick fingers, his knuckles white.

Across from him was Dante, thirty-six, the master architect whose construction empire controlled the steel, concrete, and zoning permits of New York and Boston. Beside him sat Leo, thirty-one, the cybersecurity phantom whose private intelligence firm held kompromat on half the Senate.

At the far end was Marco, thirty-three, dressed in a bespoke charcoal three-piece suit. Marco was a forensic auditor and hedge fund predator, capable of shorting a multi-billion-dollar enterprise into insolvency before lunch.

Leo tapped a key on his tablet. The wall monitors flickered to life.

The live feed from Anna’s watch began playing.

The ballroom. The exposed wooden beam. The sickening sound of the crop cutting through silk and flesh. Vanessa Crowe laughing, sipping vintage Dom Pérignon between strikes. Eleanor Vale remarking that "pedigrees cannot be taught to gutter rats."

Matteo snapped the cigar in half. He didn't blink.

Dante’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched beneath his ear. "I poured the concrete for Vale’s new luxury tower in Midtown," he whispered. "I know every crack in its foundation."

Marco adjusted his platinum-rimmed glasses, staring at the financial ledgers displayed on his laptop. "Vale Enterprises is leveraged to the hilt. Adrian financed seventy percent of his acquisitions with debt secured against Vale Holdings stock. He needs the stock price above ninety-two dollars to avoid a margin call from the Swiss consortium."

"And what is it trading at?" Luca asked quietly.

"Ninety-five," Marco said, a predatory smile touching his lips. "By opening bell tomorrow, I can drive it to forty."

Luca stood up. He walked to the window, staring down at the sprawling lights of the city.

"We do this systematically," Luca commanded. "Phase one: Marco cuts their throat in the market. Dante halts their developments. Matteo seizes their supply chains. Leo, leak the mistress’s actual background to the press and lock their digital access. I will handle the authorities."

Matteo leaned forward, his voice deep as thunder. "And Adrian?"