The Mafia Boss Called Her a Thief—So She Broke the Necklace and Showed Him What Was Inside

The snow on the terrace was already two feet deep, whipped into blinding sheets by the gale blowing off Lake Michigan.

Sebastian ran through the drifts, his tuxedo soaked through, following the red drops of blood staining the white snow. One of Carlo’s bodyguards lay dead at the edge of the stone balustrade, his rifle buried in the snow.

At the edge of the cliff overlooking the frozen lake stood Carlo Romano.

He was clutching his shoulder, his breath coming in ragged, white plumes. His private escape boat was a hundred yards out in the icy black water, its searchlight sweeping blindly across the storm, unable to dock in the surf.

Carlo turned as Sebastian approached.

The wind howled between them, carrying the roar of the frozen lake breaking against the limestone cliffs fifty feet below.

"You won't shoot me, Sebastian," Carlo yelled over the storm, holding his hands up, his teeth chattering violently. "You kill me, and you fracture the whole northern syndicate! Montreal will cut off the supply lines! Detroit will go to war!"

Sebastian walked forward slowly, his gun lowered at his side.

"Montreal already voted, Carlo," Sebastian said, his voice cutting through the wind like a razor. "Don Vincente called them five minutes ago. You don't have an empire anymore. You don't even have a grave."

Carlo’s eyes filled with pure terror. He took a stumbling step backward, his heel catching on the icy edge of the cliff.

"She begged me, Sebastian," Carlo laughed hysterically, the madness of a cornered beast breaking through his composure. "Your mother begged me! She told me she would give me everything—the bonds, the jewelry, the names—if I just let her get on that plane to Italy!"

Sebastian stopped three feet from him.

"And what did you say to her?" Sebastian asked, his voice deathly quiet.

Carlo sneered, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. "I told her a Romano woman only leaves this family in a box."

Sebastian raised his gun.

He didn't hesitate. He didn't deliver a speech.

He pulled the trigger once.

Carlo Romano collapsed backward, slipping over the icy precipice and vanishing into the black, churning waters of Lake Michigan fifty feet below.

Sebastian stood at the cliff's edge for a long time, the freezing wind whipping his wet hair across his face, watching the dark water swallow the last secret of his father's house.