She Thought I Was Nobody at the Head Table—Then One Signet Ring Made Every Crime Family in the Ballroom Stand.

Victor stood over Rossi, his boot resting firmly on the councilman’s chest. The remaining guards tossed their weapons onto the wet pavement, raising their hands in full surrender.

Carlo’s men swarmed the convoy, securing the perimeter and disarming every mercenary in sight.

Two soldiers wrenched open the back doors of the lead van. Inside, slumped against a metal divider, was Marcus Moreau. The sixty-eight-year-old enforcer was battered, his face bruised and swollen, but when he saw Victor standing in the rain, a ragged breath escaped his lips.

"Victor..." Marcus croaked, coughing violently. "Forgive me... I had to keep them safe..."

Victor climbed into the van, pulled a blade, and cut the zip-ties binding his old friend’s wrists. He placed a steady hand on Marcus’s shoulder.

"You kept my daughter alive for seven years, Marcus," Victor said quietly. "There is nothing to forgive."

Outside, Carlo dragged Celeste forward by the arm. She was trembling uncontrollably, her boots coated in mud, looking between the fallen Rossi and the heavily armed Bellacorte loyalists.

"Victor, please!" she begged, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. "Rossi threatened to kill my brother if I didn't help him! He told me the council would execute my entire family if I didn't sign those deeds!"

Victor stepped out of the van, wiping rain from his face. He looked at Celeste with utter coldness.

"You slapped my crest. You tried to sell my wife’s jewelry. And you led armed assassins to kill your own father," Victor said.

He turned to Carlo. "Strip the Moreau family of all syndicate titles. Confiscate their properties, freeze their accounts, and put her on a cargo freighter to South America by morning. If she ever sets foot in this state again, bury her."

Celeste screamed as Carlo’s men dragged her toward the secondary transport, her cries swallowed by the thunder of the storm.

Julian approached Victor, handing him a clean, dry handkerchief. "Sire, Rossi’s private safe at the council headquarters holds the legal registry. If we don't present the heir’s legitimate bloodline before the High Council strikes twelve, Rossi’s faction will legally contest your return."

Victor checked his watch.

11:15 PM.