The first sound Luca Ferraro heard inside his mansion was not the alarm system, the security team, or the polished voice of his estate director announcing his arrival.

Nora squirmed anxiously in Luca’s arms, reaching out toward the bed.

“Mama?”

Luca stepped closer and gently placed the back of his hand against Elena’s forehead. The intense, radiating heat frightened him more than a loaded gun ever had. She was burning up.

He immediately pulled his encrypted cell phone from his pocket. He dialed Dr. Samuel Klein, the elite private physician who had treated three generations of Ferraros for gunshot wounds, poisonings, and broken bones. Dr. Klein knew how to keep his mouth shut and ask no unnecessary questions.

“Get to my estate. Now,” Luca barked into the receiver. “Bring intravenous antibiotics and a respiratory kit.”

He didn't wait for a response before hanging up. Then, Luca dialed the main house switchboard.

“Send Mrs. Bell to the carriage house immediately,” Luca ordered. “Bring clean, dry clothes for Nora, warm food from the kitchen, and the emergency medical kit.”

Charles Harland, the estate manager, answered the line instead of the receptionist.

“Mr. Ferraro? We weren’t informed you had returned from Washington.”

“That is abundantly clear,” Luca replied, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper.

A nervous pause hung on the line.

“Is something wrong, sir?” Harland asked.

“You told Elena Vega that employees who missed work due to illness would not be permitted to stay on this property.”

“Sir, I may have simply reminded the staff that repeated absences create a strain on the household budget—”

“You have exactly thirty minutes to remove all of your belongings from my property,” Luca interrupted, his tone completely void of mercy. “If you are still inside the gates when the clock strikes two, my security team will drag you out by your hair.”

Harland gasped, beginning to speak quickly, pleading for his job.

Luca ended the call and tossed the phone onto the bed.

Dr. Klein arrived a record twenty-two minutes later, carrying a heavy black medical bag, his coat flapping in the wind.

Elena finally woke while the doctor was pressing a cold stethoscope to her back, listening to her rattling lungs.

The exact moment her glassy, feverish eyes opened and she saw Luca Ferraro—the billionaire boss of the most dangerous syndicate in New York—holding her daughter beside her bed, pure, unadulterated panic transformed her face.