THE MAFIA BOSS SAW ME DRAG HIS DEAD FATHER’S GRANDFATHER CLOCK THROUGH THE ENGAGEMENT DINNER—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “SHE HURT HER WRIST IN THE LAUNDRY ROOM,” BEFORE HE EVEN ASKED

By four in the morning, the estate was secure once again.

Sixteen Bellini mercenaries had been neutralized or captured by Luca's reinforced security team. The Chicago police, entirely under the control of Luca's high-ranking contacts, had cordoned off the entire neighborhood, reporting the incident as a private gas main explosion.

Lily was fast asleep in Luca's master bed, exhausted from crying, safe beneath heavy blankets.

Downstairs in the west library, the smoke of battle had not reached the quiet sanctuary of the books. Luca, Daniel, and I stood once again around the ancient grandfather clock.

"They weren't just trying to rescue Vanessa," Daniel said, wiping grease and blood from a gash on his forehead. "One of the captured shooters talked. Marco Bellini ordered them to destroy this room. Specifically, this clock."

Luca looked at the towering walnut heirloom, his eyes narrowed. "My father didn't just hide keys in this casing. There's something else."

"We checked the hood and the false drawer," Daniel said. "Where else could something be hidden?"

I stepped forward, looking closely at the long, polished brass pendulum hanging inside the glass body of the clock.

"The weight," I said suddenly.

Luca turned to me. "What do you see, Claire?"

I pointed my finger toward the heavy circular brass bob at the bottom of the pendulum. "Look at the seam. An antique pendulum bob is usually cast as a single solid piece of brass. But there’s a micro-groove along the outer circumference here. Like a screw cap."

Luca stepped up to the open glass door. He carefully took hold of the heavy brass pendulum, supporting its weight so as not to bend the suspension spring, and gripped the lower circular bob.

With a firm, counter-clockwise twist, the brass casing groaned.

A finely threaded cap unscrewed in Luca's hand.

Inside the hollowed-out pendulum core rested a tightly rolled cylinder of high-density microfiche film, accompanied by a small, modern encrypted USB drive wrapped in waterproof plastic.

"Antonio upgraded his contingency before he died," Daniel breathed in awe. "He transferred all his private ledgers onto digital media."

Luca carried the USB drive over to his father's mahogany desk, plugging it into a secured, offline military-grade laptop.

A decryption prompt appeared on the screen.

Luca entered the access code found on the scrap of paper from Unit 17: MATTEO-0217.

The screen flashed green. A massive database unfurled before our eyes.

Dozens of bank accounts across Switzerland, the Cayman Islands, and Panama. Real estate deeds, maritime shipping manifests, and audio recordings of high-level meetings between Marco Bellini and corrupt federal judges.

"This is Marco Bellini's entire criminal empire," Luca said, his eyes scanning the spreadsheets with cold satisfaction. "Every bribe he paid for twenty years. Every illegal arms shipment brought through the Port of Chicago. Every assassination he ordered—including the ambush on my brother Matteo."

"Boss, this isn't just leverage," Daniel said, a slow, grim smile spreading across his face. "This is a total death sentence for the Bellini family. If this data hits the Syndicate High Council and federal prosecutors simultaneously, Bellini will lose every asset, every ally, and every dime he owns by noon."

"We're not giving it to federal prosecutors," Luca said coldly.

"What are we doing with it, Mr. Moretti?" I asked.

Luca turned the laptop screen toward me.

"Tomorrow night is the annual Chicago Underworld Winter Gala at the Drake Hotel," Luca said, his voice ringing with absolute, ruthless power. "Every family head, every don, and every corrupt politician in the Midwest will be in that ballroom. Marco Bellini thinks he's going to announce our wedding alliance and seize my territory."

Luca stood up, walking toward me until he was standing just inches away. His eyes softened as he looked down into mine.

"Vanessa is no longer attending that gala," Luca whispered.