Driving her heel into Victor’s foot to tear violently free, Valentina dived fully clothed into the pond

The sub-basement of the Morello estate was a stark, freezing contrast to the opulent luxury of the upper floors. It was a damp, concrete bunker, illuminated only by harsh, caged bulbs. Valentina descended the heavy metal stairs, her stocking feet making no sound.

Victor and Celeste were exactly where the bodyguards had left them. They were zip-tied to massive structural columns, sitting on the freezing concrete floor, shivering violently in their ruined formal wear.

When they heard Valentina's footsteps, they both looked up. Their fair, rosy faces were pale and drawn, completely stripped of their arrogant, aristocratic entitlement.

"Valentina," Victor rasped, his voice weak and trembling. "We heard the gunfire. What happened?"

"Chicago came to collect," Valentina stated smoothly, stepping into the dim light. She exuded a terrifying, sociopathic detachment. "They sent an assassination squad to the front gates, and a strike team to the docks."

"You... you survived?" Celeste whimpered, her luxurious gown torn and stained, the red welt from Valentina's slap still burning on her cheek.

"I didn't just survive, Celeste," Valentina replied, her voice dropping into a low, mesmerizing hum. "I eradicated them. The docks are secure. The estate is secure. Chicago's forces are dead or captured."

Victor stared at his niece, profound, unadulterated terror finally breaking through his stubborn pride. He realized that his grand, Machiavellian plot had not only failed but had unleashed a monster far more capable and ruthless than he had ever anticipated.

"What are you going to do to us?" Victor asked, his voice cracking.

"You invited an invading army into my home," Valentina said, pacing slowly in front of them. "You provided them with the blueprints to my estate. And you attempted to murder my three-year-old son to pave their way."