Genevieve held Chloe trapped on the stone steps

Marcus gently guided Maya to sit on the edge of the cot, his jaw clenching as he took in the full extent of her captivity. He removed his custom-tailored ivory jacket and draped it carefully over her shivering shoulders.

"Tell me," Marcus said quietly, his volume low but demanding absolute focus.

Maya clutched the lapels of the jacket. "It’s the Chicago syndicate. Julian made a deal with them. They wanted our shipping routes on the eastern seaboard, but they knew you would never negotiate. Genevieve drugged my tea six months ago. When I woke up, I was down here. Julian forged my signature to drain the dummy accounts so it would look like I fled with the money."

"And the men upstairs?" Marcus asked, his tactical mind immediately analyzing the threat level on the terrace.

"Julian brought them in today," Maya explained, her voice gaining strength as the adrenaline fueled her. "The party is a trap, Marcus. Half the bodyguards out there aren't yours. They are Chicago mercenaries dressed in our suits. Julian was supposed to assassinate you during the toast this afternoon and claim control of the family as Genevieve's proxy."

Marcus stood up slowly. He looked at Genevieve, who had backed herself into the far corner of the concrete room, pressing her hands against the damp wall.

"You brought mercenaries into a house where my three-year-old daughter sleeps," Marcus stated. It wasn't a question. It was a death sentence.

"Julian promised they wouldn't hurt Chloe!" Genevieve pleaded, tears streaming down her face. "He said if you were dead, we could just raise her! We would have the money and the power! Marcus, I loved you!"

"You love nothing," Marcus replied, his voice entirely devoid of emotion.

He reached into his waistband and withdrew a heavy, suppressed tactical pistol. He didn't point it at her. He didn't need to. The sheer implication of the weapon in his tattooed hand made Genevieve slide down the wall, weeping hysterically into her knees.

"Can you walk?" Marcus asked, turning back to Maya.

"I can walk," Maya said fiercely, standing up. The ivory jacket swallowed her thin frame, but the fire in her eyes was identical to the fire that had drawn Marcus to her years ago.

"Good," Marcus said. He pressed a button on the earpiece hidden in his ear, opening a secure, encrypted channel to his most loyal capo, a man named Dante who was currently securing the terrace above.

"Dante," Marcus spoke softly into the mic. "Status."

"We have the guests cordoned off, Boss," Dante's voice crackled back. "But things are getting tense. Some of Julian's guys are getting restless. They are demanding to know where you took Genevieve."

"Dante, listen to me very carefully," Marcus instructed, his words precise and lethal. "The men wearing silver tie clips are Chicago mercenaries. Do not alert them. Keep your weapons lowered until I step out of the passage. When I give the signal, you execute every man wearing silver. Do you understand?"