The mafia boss’s dog had just attacked a professional handler so badly that the man fled through the estate gates bleeding when my maid’s three-year-old daughter walked directly toward him, clutching a small laundry cloth in her hand

I descended the stone stairs into the bloody courtyard, my boots crunching in the red-stained snow. Nero walked beside me, his breathing heavy, his dark coat dusted with white flakes.

Mateo backed up until his spine hit the frozen bumper of his van. "Alessio... please! I'm your father’s brother! Blood doesn't spill blood!"

"You forgot that rule when you put a wire around my dog’s throat," I said, stopping three feet away from him. "You forgot it when you sent an explosive to kill a three-year-old child."

"It was Victor!" Mateo sobbed, his bravado completely shattered. "He forced my hand! He took my assets in Miami! I had no choice!"

"You always had a choice," I said quietly. "You chose power over family. You chose cowardice over honor."

I raised my pistol, aiming it directly at his forehead.

Mateo squeezed his eyes shut, shaking uncontrollably, waiting for the bullet.

The silence stretched for three agonizing seconds. The wind rustled the pine trees surrounding the estate.

I looked down at Nero. The dog was watching me, his golden eyes clear, calm, waiting for my command. I thought of Elsie’s small hand wiping the snow off Nero’s wet fur. I thought of Sienna’s warm voice telling me that this house stood with me.

If I pulled this trigger in cold blood, I was no different than the monsters who had tried to tear this family apart.

I slowly lowered the weapon.

Mateo opened his eyes, gasping for air. "You're... you're letting me go?"

"No," I said, my voice cold as the Chicago ice. "Death is too clean for you, Mateo. You will spend the rest of your days in a high-security federal facility in upstate New York. I have already handed over your complete financial records, your treason charges, and your link to Victor’s cartel to the FBI."

Marco stepped forward, slapping heavy steel handcuffs onto Mateo’s wrists.

"Take him away," I commanded. "Strip him of the Moretti name. He no longer exists to this family."

As Marco dragged my weeping uncle toward an unmarked police convoy waiting outside the gates, I turned back toward the estate. The storm was beginning to pass, revealing a sky full of clear, distant stars.