By the time I pressed Enter, my hands were shaking harder than they ever had in front of guns, federal agents, or men planning my funeral.

The sun rose over the sprawling Chicago estate with a blinding, unapologetic brightness, casting long, sharp shadows across the manicured lawns.

At 8:00 AM sharp, the formal dining room—a cavernous space with twenty-foot ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and oil paintings of ancestral Verona patriarchs—was bathed in morning light.

Regina Ashford sat at the center of the mahogany table, wearing a white silk dressing gown, sipping freshly brewed Colombian coffee from a bone-china cup. She looked radiant, self-satisfied, and entirely untouchable.

The double doors swung open.

Regina didn't look up immediately, assuming it was Walter, the head butler, bringing her avocado toast.

“Walter, darling, tell the chef to go light on the salt today—my skin retains water when—” Regina started, her voice purring with aristocratic ease.

She stopped mid-sentence.

Footsteps echoed across the parquet floor. Not Walter’s heavy, measured tread.

Mine. And beside me, walking hand-in-hand, were Noah and Gianna.

Following closely behind them, wearing a tailored emerald-green silk dress that belonged to Catherine’s old wardrobe—a dress I had quietly left hanging in her guest closet the night before—was Julieta Marín.

Regina’s coffee cup froze halfway to her lips. Her eyes bulged as she looked from Julieta to me, her face draining of all color until she looked like a plaster statue.

“Emilio...?” Regina stammered, setting the cup down so hard the hot liquid sloshed over the rim onto the white tablecloth. “What is the meaning of this? Why is the help standing in the formal dining room? And why is she wearing... is that one of your late wife's designer dresses?!”

I didn't answer right away. I pulled out the high-backed leather chair at the head of the table, seated Noah and Gianna in their booster seats, and then pulled out the chair directly to my right.

“Sit, Julieta,” I commanded quietly.

Julieta hesitated for a single heartbeat, then walked forward with quiet grace and seated herself in the place of honor beside me.

Regina shot out of her chair, her silk gown rustling violently, her face twisting into an ugly, mask-like snarl of pure rage.

“Have you lost your absolute mind?!” Regina shrieked, pointing a manicured finger directly at Julieta. “Get that migrant peasant out of my dining room this instant! Or so help me God, I will call my father’s lawyers and cancel this entire wedding before you can blink!”

“There is no wedding, Regina,” I said.

My voice didn't rise. It didn't tremble. It was the flat, dead voice I used when signing death warrants for cartel lieutenants.

Regina froze. A nervous, brittle laugh escaped her lips. “What... what are you talking about? You’re joking. Emilio, stop playing games—”

I reached into my breast pocket, pulled out the 3.5-carat diamond engagement ring she had proudly shown off at charity galas all month, and tossed it across the mahogany table.

It skidded across the wood and landed with a sharp clack right in the center of her saucer.

“The contract is void,” I said plainly.

Regina stared at the ring as if it were a venomous snake. Then her eyes snapped back up to mine, blazing with unadulterated fury.

“Because of her?!” Regina screamed, lunging across the table. “You’re throwing away a society marriage—you’re throwing away me—for a glorified babysitter?! I’ll ruin you, Emilio! I’ll tell the tabloids everything! I’ll tell them what kind of ruthless gangster really lives behind these iron gates!”

“Go ahead,” I replied, taking a calm sip of my black coffee. “Tell them whatever you like. But before you call the tabloids, I strongly suggest you watch your email inbox.”

Regina’s breath caught. “What?”

“My legal team sent a high-definition copy of yesterday afternoon’s family-room security footage—complete with audio of you manufacturing a fake assault and plotting to abandon my children in Switzerland—to your father, to the board of your favorite charity, and to every major news outlet in Cook County.”

Color drained completely from Regina’s face. She looked like she had just been hit by a freight train.

“You... you didn't...” she whispered, her voice cracking into a desperate squeak.

“I did,” I said, setting my cup down. “And your father’s legal counsel is already downstairs waiting to escort you off my property. Your luggage is packed by the front gates.”

Regina stared at me for three agonizing seconds, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. The aristocratic poise, the designer clothes, the social superiority—it all dissolved into nothingness, leaving only a desperate, exposed fraud.

Without another word, she snatched the engagement ring off the saucer, turned on her heel, and stormed out of the dining room, her sobs echoing down the marble hall until the front doors slammed shut behind her.

Silence descended upon the room once more.

Noah giggled, reaching across the table for a piece of fruit. Julieta caught his hand gently, a small, tender smile blooming across her face.

I looked at her across the table, the heavy iron walls around my heart finally, completely crumbling away.