The Mafia Boss Thought She Was Just a Bookish Secretary—Until She Opened the Clan’s Most Secure Safe

The Beluchcci executive boardroom was a glass-walled masterpiece overlooking the waking city. The sun was just rising, painting the skyline in brilliant hues of pink and gold.

Damian sat at the head of the massive mahogany table. Norah stood directly behind him, clutching the black briefcase.

The elevator pinged. Carmine Romano walked in, flanked by Sal and four heavily armed enforcers. Carmine looked confident, but his eyes darted nervously to the briefcase.

"You're a dead man, Damian," Carmine sneered, taking a seat at the opposite end of the table. "You have no men left. My soldiers control this building."

"Your soldiers are currently being arrested by federal tactical units," Damian replied smoothly, checking his watch. "I sent a small sample of the ledger to the District Attorney twenty minutes ago. A down payment on my immunity."

Carmine’s smug expression vanished. "You're bluffing. You would incriminate yourself."

"I spent ten years legalizing my assets," Damian smiled coldly. "My name isn't in that book. But yours is. Page forty-two. The bribes you paid to Judge Harper. The offshore accounts laundering cartel money. It's all there."

Carmine stood up, his face purple with rage. "Sal! Kill them both!"

Sal raised his weapon, but before he could fire, the glass doors of the boardroom shattered inward as FBI SWAT teams poured into the room, assault rifles raised.

"FBI! Drop your weapons! Drop them now!"

Carmine and his men froze. The enforcers slowly lowered their guns, raising their hands in surrender.

Carmine stared at Damian with pure, unadulterated hatred as federal agents slapped handcuffs on his wrists. "This isn't over, Beluchcci. The Commission won't let you get away with this."