The Mafia Boss Found His Fired Maid Freezing in the Snow—By Midnight, His Estate Manager Disappeared

The door to the study swung wide open.

Luca spun around, clutching a thick leather ledger in his left hand, his right hand diving inside his suit jacket toward his holster.

"Freeze, Luca," Nicholas said.

The pistol barrel was rock-steady, aimed directly at the center of Luca’s chest.

Luca froze, his fingers twitching inches from the grip of his gun.

"Boss," Luca forced a tight, crooked smile, sweat beading on his forehead. "I... I heard a noise. I was just checking the safe to make sure the security files weren't compromised."

"At midnight? With a burner phone in your pocket?" Nicholas asked, stepping into the room.

Luca’s smile vanished.

The desperate, cornered animal replaced the smooth enforcer.

"You can't prove anything," Luca hissed, his hand darting toward his weapon.

Bang.

Not a mortal wound.

Nicholas’s bullet struck the wood paneling one inch above Luca’s right shoulder, showering him with splinters and drywall dust.

Luca froze instantly, his hands shooting straight up into the air, the leather ledger slipping from his fingers and thudding onto the Persian rug.

"Next time," Nicholas said, his voice dropping into a register that made the air in the room turn to ice, "I won't miss the target."

Luca dropped to his knees, trembling violently.

"Who's your handler at the Justice Department?" Nicholas asked, standing over him.

Luca swallowed hard. "Vance... Senator Vance. He promised me immunity when the Grimaldi syndicate was dismantled."

Nicholas looked down at him with profound, chilling pity.

"Senator Vance is about to have a very difficult week," Nicholas said. "Luca... pack your bags. You're going on a very long, very permanent vacation to a federal black site."