"Daddy, someone was crying under there too..." — the seven words from his daughter that made a fearless mafia boss freeze...

Gasps reverberated through the hall. High-society ladies covered their mouths; hardened syndicate lieutenants stepped back, horrified by the absolute breach of protocol, yet completely terrified of Dominic’s wrath.

Lucinda lay on the floor for a long moment, her hair disheveled, her expensive makeup ruined by the red imprint of Dominic's hand rapidly blooming across her fair cheek. Slowly, painfully, she pushed herself up using the frame of the velvet chair. She wiped a smear of blood from the corner of her lip with the back of her hand.

She didn't cry. Instead, she rose to her full height, her posture rigid, her blue eyes blazing with pure, unadulterated venom. She looked Dominic straight in the eyes, her voice low, raspy, and laced with a deadly promise that carried across the silent room.

"Open the second panel," Lucinda whispered, her smile twisting into something monstrous, "and you lose everything."

Dominic’s jaw set like iron. He didn't flinch at her threat. "There are no secrets in my house that can save you, Lucinda."

"Are you so sure, Dominic?" Lucinda purred softly, taking a step closer, ignoring the blood dripping onto her emerald gown. "You think you built this kingdom on absolute authority. But you never looked under your own feet. Open it. Show your friends, your men, your precious daughter what the Valenti name is truly built upon."

From the doorway of the parlor wing, Maisie walked forward, holding Frank’s hand tightly. She looked at her father, then at the floorboards near the far corner of the ballroom—a section hidden beneath a massive oak display table.

Maisie raised a trembling finger, pointing directly at the far panel. She looked at Dominic with wide, terrified eyes.