Claudia depraved enough to rip a child’s handmade gift from her hands and banish a barefoot

The guests, an assembly of hardened mafia lieutenants and their wives, instinctively backed away, forming a wide perimeter around the center of the lounge. The bright, elegant lighting felt interrogative now, offering no shadows for Mark or Claudia to hide within.

Mark leaned heavily against a marble pillar, using his sleeve to wipe the blood from his mouth. His rosy complexion was pale and clammy. "The trust fund? Dad, what are you talking about? Lily’s trust is perfectly fine. I manage it just like you asked."

"Do not lie to me, Mark," Richard warned, taking a slow, predatory step closer. "I received a call from the Swiss bankers three days ago. The account established for Lily after her mother died... the one holding ten million dollars for her future. It has been drained. Every last cent."

Claudia gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. She looked at her husband with wide, panicked eyes. "Mark! You told me that money was from a new shipping contract! You said the real estate investments paid off!"

Richard slowly turned his cold, intimidating eyes toward his daughter-in-law. "So, you spent my granddaughter's inheritance on those diamonds around your neck, Claudia? While she wears clothes fit for a beggar?"

"I didn't know!" Claudia cried out, desperately trying to untangle herself from the ruined wrapping paper. "I swear to God, Richard, I didn't know where the money came from! He handles the finances! He told me Lily was just acting out, that she ruined her good clothes on purpose to make me look bad!"

"Shut up, Claudia!" Mark yelled, pointing a bloody finger at her. "You hated the kid from day one! You told the maids to stop washing her clothes! You told the cooks to stop bringing her meals!"

"Because she's a reminder of your perfect first wife!" Claudia screamed back, abandoning all pretense of elegance. "You never look at me the way you looked at her mother!"

"Enough," Richard's voice wasn't loud, but it cut through their bickering like a guillotine blade.

He stepped directly in front of Mark. "You stole from your own child to fund your lifestyle. You starved her to appease a jealous woman. You locked her in the snow. You have disgraced the Bellacorte name."

"I am your heir!" Mark pleaded, his voice cracking. "Dad, please! I can put the money back! I have a deal lined up with the Chicago outfit! We’re going to run the new distribution lines! I was going to replace the trust tenfold!"

Richard’s eyes narrowed, the sharp, defined lines of his face hardening into absolute stone. "The Chicago outfit? You brought outside business into my territory without my authorization to cover your theft?"

Mark realized his fatal mistake the moment the words left his mouth. The capos watching from the perimeter exchanged dark, murderous glances. Dealing with a rival syndicate without the Don's permission was high treason.

"Dad, I was trying to prove myself!" Mark stammered, backing away until he hit the glass doors leading to the terrace. "I was trying to show you I could earn!"