88the mafia king hid cameras in his disabled twin’s room to catch a traitor—then he saw the plus-size maid risk her life for his brother and publicly made her his fiancée

Dawn broke over Chicago in shades of bruised purple and icy grey.

In the subterranean bunker beneath the Moretti compound, Uncle Silvio’s confession had been swift and total. By three in the morning, the syndicate’s intelligence team had extracted every name, every bank account, and every corrupt official involved in the plot against Mateo.

The mastermind behind the entire operation wasn't just Silvio.

It was Don Donato Camorra—the ruthless head of the New York Camorra syndicate—who had forged a secret alliance with Silvio to dismantle the Moretti family from within and seize control of the Chicago shipping ports.

In the war room, Lorenzo, Lydia, and Mateo sat around a glass conference table covered in tactical maps and digital tablet monitors.

Mateo was typing on a specialized eye-tracking computer screen, his thoughts rendering into crisp, synthesized text on the overhead display:

Donato moves his shipments through Warehouse 14 at the Port of Chicago tonight at 2:00 AM. He believes Silvio is still in control here.

Lydia zoomed in on the satellite imagery of Warehouse 14. "Donato will have at least thirty heavily armed mercenaries guarding that dock. If we attack directly, it will be a bloodbath."

Lorenzo leaned back, sipping black coffee, his eyes fixing on Lydia. "What do you suggest, Captain?"

Lydia pulled a red digital pen from her tablet, drawing a sharp vector line across the underwater access pipe leading to the warehouse.

"The Camorra expects a land-based assault from your armored SUVs," Lydia explained, her strategic brilliance shining like a beacon. "They've set up three sniper nests along the perimeter fence. But the water intake pipe from Lake Michigan is four feet wide and completely unmonitored."

Lorenzo’s eyes flared with appreciation. "A quiet infiltration team. We cut the power, eliminate the snipers from inside, and take Donato alive."

"I'm leading the infiltration team," Lydia said firmly.

Lorenzo’s coffee mug froze halfway to his lips. His grey eyes went cold. "Absolutely not."

"Lorenzo, I know that warehouse layout better than any of your men," Lydia argued, leaning across the table, meeting his glare with equal force. "I conducted a counter-terrorism sweep on that exact port three years ago. I know the blind spots in their sonar."

"You are my fiancée, Lydia," Lorenzo growled, standing up, his massive frame towering over her. "You are not going into a kill zone."

Mateo clicked his eye-tracker. A synthesized voice echoed from his speaker:

Lorenzo. She killed a hitman with a skillet and a blanket. Let her work.

Lydia smiled at Mateo, then looked back at Lorenzo, reaching out to wrap her soft hand around his tense forearm.

"I'm not asking for your permission, Lorenzo," she said softly, her thumb rubbing against his sleeve. "I'm offering you a victory. We do this together. Or not at all."

Lorenzo stared down at her—at her soft, beautiful face, her wide hazel eyes, and the unshakable courage that made his heart beat like a war drum.