FULL STORY : THE MAFIA BOSS WALKED IN EARLY AND FOUND HIS FIANCÉE HURTING HIS BABY—THEN THE NANNY’S TESTIMONY EXPOSED EVERYTHING

Victor froze at the threshold of the boathouse, his weapon raised, perfectly aligned with the center of Serena’s skull. His breathing was dead silent, his hands completely steady, despite the hurricane of adrenaline roaring through his veins.

"Drop it, Victor!" Serena shrieked, her finger tightening on the trigger of her weapon. "I won't warn you twice! Put it on the ground and kick it into the water!"

"Don't do it, Victor!" Lily yelled, her voice trembling but defiant, her arms squeezing Ethan tightly against her chest. "She's going to kill us anyway! Shoot her!"

"Shut up, you pathetic little maid!" Serena snapped, lashing out with her boot to kick Lily’s shin. Lily grunted in pain, sinking to her knees, but she refused to let go of the boy. Ethan buried his face in her shoulder, wailing in terror.

"Serena," Victor’s voice cut through the howling wind, chillingly calm. "You pull that trigger, and you die before her body hits the boards. You know I don't miss."

"You won't shoot," Serena taunted, though a bead of cold sweat rolled down her temple. "Because you know who's waiting on that boat outside. You kill me, and you'll never see what Alexander has planned for your precious empire."

"Alexander is dead," Victor repeated, his voice cold stone.

"Is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night, little brother?"

A new voice emerged from the shadows of the boathouse rafters.

From the raised maintenance catwalk above the water slips, a man stepped into the faint glow of the work lights. He was dressed in a pristine charcoal overcoat, leaning lightly on a silver-headed cane. His face was identical to Victor’s, save for a long, jagged burn scar running from his left eye down to the corner of his jaw—the souvenir of four hundred pounds of C4 detonating in the Mediterranean.

Alexander Blackwood looked down at his brother with absolute, mocking contempt.

"You really thought a little maritime fireworks display could kill me, Victor?" Alexander murmured, his voice dripping with condescension. "I built the foundation of this syndicate while you were still playing soldier in the private sector. You think you inherited our father’s empire? You merely kept my seat warm."

Victor’s eyes flicked upward for a fraction of a second, registering the ghost he thought he had buried. "Alexander."

"In the flesh. Mostly," Alexander smiled, tapping his prosthetic right leg with his cane. "And now, I’ve come to collect what is legally, biologically, and rightfully mine."

Alexander pointed the tip of his cane toward Ethan.

"Give me my son, Victor. And I might let you and your common little bride live out the rest of your miserable lives in exile."

"He is not your son," Lily spat, looking up at Alexander with pure, unadulterated hatred. "You wanted to sell him before he was even born! You killed his mother! You are nothing to him!"

Alexander’s cold eyes shifted down to Lily, his expression hardening into disgust. "A nanny who managed to crawl into my brother’s bed thinks she has a voice in the affairs of the Blackwood bloodline. How quaint. Serena, execute her."