My Fiancée Humiliated a Maid at My Birthday Party—Then Her Invitation Revealed My Dead Father Had Personally Invited Her.

Victor turned to Clara. “Open the deed.”

Clara untied the red ribbon on the leather portfolio and pulled out the original parchment deed to the Red Hook Brooklyn terminals—worth over three hundred million dollars in commercial shipping contracts.

At the bottom of the deed was the legal signature of Lorenzo Moretti, transferrable only upon presentation of the master key held by the Hayes family.

“Under the laws established by both Silvio and Lorenzo,” Victor announced to the council, “the rightful owner of the Brooklyn waterfront is not the Vance family. And it is not Celeste. It is Clara Hayes.”

The room erupted into stunned shouts. The capos looked between Clara and Victor, realizing that the balance of power across the entire eastern seaboard had just shifted in a single heartbeat.

Victor raised his hand, silencing the men instantly.

He looked at Celeste. “By the decree of the Bellaro council, your engagement to me is terminated. Your Vance political connections will not save you. Marco will deliver you and your brother to the federal prosecutor’s office in White Plains by noon, along with the digitalis evidence and Julian’s signed statement.”

Celeste’s eyes widened with utter disbelief. “The feds?! You’re handing a Bellaro to the federal government?! That violates omertà!”

“You’re not a Bellaro,” Victor said coldly. “You’re a murderer who thought she could butcher my family from the inside. You don't get the honor of a mafia grave, Celeste. You get twenty-five years in a federal penitentiary.”

Two guards hauled Celeste out of her chair. She screamed, thrashing against their grip, her elegant composure shattering into complete, unhinged madness as she was dragged out of the dining room.

“Victor! You think this is over?!” Celeste shrieked as the heavy doors began to close. “You don't know who visited Silvio before I did! You don't know who paid for the poison!”

The doors slammed shut, cutting off her voice.

Victor looked down the long table at his men. “The meeting is adjourned. Go back to your boroughs. Clara Hayes sits at the Bellaro table from this day forward.”