“Any Last Wish?” The Fiancée Sneered At The Maid — Unaware The Mafia Boss Was Listening

"Drop your weapons!" Dominic, Adrienne’s chief lieutenant, barked from the iron balcony above, his red laser sight locked directly onto Frank Rossi’s forehead.

Frank Rossi looked at the eight assault rifles pointed at his head, looked at his boss being held by the throat, and slowly raised his hands in the air. He unbuckled his holster, letting his heavy silenced pistol drop to the marble floor with a loud thud. His two mercenaries immediately followed suit, dropping their guns and raising their hands.

"Smart man, Frank," Adrienne said, releasing his grip on Victoria’s throat.

Victoria collapsed onto the stone floor, gasping for air, clutching her neck, her expensive crimson silk robe stained with water from the fountain.

Adrienne looked down at her with pure, unadulterated disgust.

"Dominic," Adrienne ordered without breaking eye contact with Victoria. "Take Frank and his men down to the cellar. Call the Laurent estate in Chicago. Tell Victoria’s father that if he wants his daughter back alive, he will sign over fifty-one percent of his Midwestern shipping routes to the Valente Syndicate by dawn."

"Right away, Boss," Dominic said, waving his men down to disarm and secure the Chicago mercenaries.

Within two minutes, Frank Rossi and his men were stripped of their weapons and dragged out of the conservatory in heavy zip-ties, leaving only Adrienne, Elena, and the weeping Victoria on the marble floor.

Victoria looked up, her hair ruined, her mascara running down her pale cheeks in black tracks. The proud, arrogant woman who had marched into the mansion three weeks ago was completely broken.

"Adrienne... please," Victoria sobbed, reaching out toward his polished boot. "Don't do this. My father will ruin you... the Marcones will—"

"The Marcones are currently being raided by federal agents," Adrienne interrupted flatly. "I leaked their Forty-Fourth Street warehouse coordinates to the FBI two hours ago. By morning, the Marcone family won't exist in New York."

Victoria stared at him, her mouth open in silent terror. She had thought she was playing chess, unaware that Adrienne had owned the board, the pieces, and the room from the very beginning.

Adrienne turned his head, looking at Elena.

"Elena," Adrienne said softly, his voice instantly softening as he addressed her. "What do you want done with her?"

Victoria froze. She slowly turned her head, looking up at the maid she had humiliated, threatened, and tried to execute.

"Any last wish?" Victoria sneered through her tears, trying desperately to cling to a final piece of her shattered pride, unaware that the Don was listening to every breath. "Are you going to have him kill me, maid?"

Elena walked forward slowly. Her sneakers made no sound on the stone floor. She stopped right beside Adrienne, looking down at Victoria Laurent sitting in the puddle of fountain water.

Elena didn't look angry. She didn't look gloating.

She looked at Victoria with quiet, profound pity.

"I don't want you dead, Victoria," Elena said, her voice rich, calm, and resonant. "Death is too easy. I want you to go back to Chicago. I want you to sit in your father's house and remember every single day that a maid took your crown, saved your life, and gave you the mercy you never offered anyone else."

Victoria stared at her, her jaw trembling, completely destroyed by the sheer, unyielding grace of the woman she had despised.

Adrienne looked at Elena, his amber eyes burning with an intense, fierce pride that radiated like a sun in the dark room.

"You heard her," Adrienne commanded his guards standing near the doors. "Lock Victoria in the east guest room until the contract transfers are signed at dawn. Then put her on a private plane to Chicago and make sure she never steps foot in New York again."