SHADOWS OF THE VISCARI EMPIRE

The property was an impenetrable fortress—a sprawling stone mansion sitting on fifty acres of dense woodland overlooking the dark waters of the Long Island Sound. High security walls, thermal cameras, and armed guards in dark uniforms patrolled every inch of the perimeter.

Adrien carried me into the grand foyer, refusing to let my bare, bandaged feet touch the cold floor.

He took me up to a sunlit suite on the second floor—a warm room filled with soft cream furniture, a crackling stone fireplace, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the water.

“Dr. Bell is downstairs,” Adrien said, setting me down gently on a plush velvet sofa near the fire. “He will examine your injuries and give you proper pain medication. No one enters this room without my personal authorization.”

“Adrien,” I called out as he turned toward the door.

He stopped, looking back over his shoulder. “Yes?”

“Why are you doing this for me?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “If I’m the heir to half your empire... doesn't my existence threaten your power?”

Adrien walked back toward me, taking a seat on the leather ottoman across from the sofa. He looked at me with an intensity that made my heart flutter in my chest.

“When my aunt Elena fled fifteen years ago, my father blamed himself every single day until he died,” Adrien said softly. “He swore on his deathbed that if her daughter was alive, I would protect her with the full force of the Viscari family. I don't care about the money or the ledger, Lena. I care about family.”

He reached out, taking my cold hand into his, pressing a soft, respectful kiss against my knuckles.

“Rest now,” he whispered. “Tomorrow, we tear Marcus Blake’s world apart.”

After Dr. Bell treated my cracked ribs and gave me a mild sedative, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep—the first peaceful sleep I had experienced in three years.

When I woke the next afternoon, bright sunlight flooded the room.

I sat up, feeling remarkably stronger. On the bedside table sat a fresh cup of coffee, a plate of warm food, and a brand-new smartphone along with a sleek black velvet box.

I opened the box. Inside lay a delicate gold pendant necklace shaped like a crested lion—the official seal of the Viscari family.

I put the necklace on, feeling its solid weight against my collarbone, and walked over to the window.

Down on the stone terrace below, Adrien stood talking with two men in sharp business suits. One of them was Samuel Sterling—a famous Manhattan defense attorney—and the other was Detective Raymond Vance from the NYPD's Organized Crime Task Force.

I realized then that Adrien wasn't just fighting a mob war in the streets. He was using every legal, financial, and political lever in New York to destroy Marcus Blake and his syndicate allies.

Suddenly, the new smartphone on the table vibrated.