They Laughed as a Humiliated Maid Knelt in Broken Glass at a Mafia Gala — Then the Feared Boss Saw Her Drop a Man With One Forbidden Strike and Realized the “Weak” Servant Was the Woman He Had Searched for Years.

Ten minutes later, the grand ballroom of Wexley Hall was lit by emergency spotlights.

The crystal chandeliers were shattered, the priceless carpets ruined by blood and champagne, and forty surviving mafia bosses stood in a silent, terrified circle around the central dance floor.

In the middle of the room, Dario Bellini was bound to a wooden chair, his face pale, sweat pouring down his neck. He had recovered from the paralyzed state Wren had put him in, but his knees were still shaking uncontrollably.

Damian Ricci stood before him, holding his heavy custom pistol at his side.

Wren stood at Damian's right hand. She no longer wore the maid's uniform—Luca had brought her a sleek, black leather jacket and dark trousers from the security armory. Her dark hair was tied back, and her face was cold as marble.

The surrounding bosses whispered frantically among themselves.

"Is that the maid?" Senator Whitcomb gasped from the edge of the crowd, his face white as paper. "The girl Dario knocked down earlier?"

"Look at how she stands beside Ricci," another boss whispered in horror. "She's not a maid... she's a ghost."

Mrs. Delphine Crane stood near the back wall, clutching her handkerchief to her mouth, her eyes wide with absolute terror as she realized the girl she had threatened to skin alive had just slaughtered six Sicilian hitmen in the basement.

Dario looked up at Damian, weeping hysterically. "Damian! Please! Moretti is lying! I would never betray the family!"

"You didn't just betray the family, Dario," Damian said, his voice echoing off the high, ruined ceilings. "You broke the sacred truce. You brought weapons into my home. And worst of all..."