“Her first husband.”

The air in the grand foyer was a powder keg, thick with the metallic scent of impending violence. Victor Reed thrashed wildly in Everett's iron grip, his arrogant facade completely shattering as he choked for air. The six Westbrook enforcers surrounding them tightened their grips on their automatic weapons, waiting for a single, subtle nod from Everett to paint the ivory walls red.

"Will you crawl back to your vehicles before I decide to keep you here as well?" Everett asked, his voice a lethal whisper as he violently threw Victor backward onto the polished marble.

Victor crashed to the floor, gasping frantically for air, clutching his bruised chest, his expensive overcoat ruined.

Marcus grabbed Victor by the collar and hauled him to his feet, shoving him roughly toward the heavy front doors. "Get out of here before the boss changes his mind."

Victor stumbled out the doors, coughing violently. As he reached his armored SUVs, he turned back, screaming a final, desperate threat into the freezing night. "You’re dead, Westbrook! You hear me? We’re coming for you tonight! I'll kill that old man and the maid who started this!"

The heavy oak doors slammed shut, sealing the mansion once more.

Everett stood in the center of the foyer, casually adjusting his collar. The confrontation had barely raised his heart rate, but the final threat directed at Josie ignited a dark, murderous rage deep within his chest.

"Did you secure the perimeter, Marcus?" Everett asked, turning to his underboss.

"Yes, Boss. We have twenty men on the walls and snipers on the roof," Marcus replied, pulling a heavy, suppressed pistol from his coat. "But the Reeds have numbers. If they mobilize their entire syndicate, they could breach the gates within the hour."

"Are the men heavily armed?" Everett inquired, walking toward a hidden biometric gun safe built into the marble wall.

"They have everything we have," Marcus warned, his voice grim. "It's going to be a bloodbath."

"Do you think I would hide in a vault while enemies stand on my front lawn?" Everett asked, pressing his thumb to the scanner. The safe hissed open, revealing an arsenal of tactical weaponry. He pulled out a heavy assault rifle, racking the slide with a terrifying, metallic clack.

Before Marcus could argue, a deafening roar shook the foundation of the estate. A massive explosion outside shattered the reinforced glass of the high foyer windows, raining crystalline shrapnel down upon the marble floor. The staccato rhythm of automatic gunfire immediately followed, echoing from the front gates.

The war had begun.

"Are you prepared to die on my doorstep, Victor?" Everett whispered to himself, his cold eyes blazing with lethal intent. He looked at Marcus. "Will you ensure the west wing remains impenetrable while I handle the vermin outside?"

The deafening barrage of gunfire outside the mansion escalated into a continuous, thunderous roar, shaking the gilded moldings of the luxurious estate. The cascading crystal chandeliers flickered ominously, casting erratic, strobe-like light across the marble floors. Everett moved through the chaos with terrifying, lethal precision, his assault rifle raised, his broad shoulders squared against the incoming assault.

"Are they breaching the eastern wall?" Everett yelled over the comms, taking cover behind a heavy stone pillar as a spray of bullets shattered a priceless antique mirror nearby.

"They used shaped charges, Boss!" a guard replied through the radio static. "We are holding them at the courtyard, but they have heavy suppression fire!"

In the private west wing, the sounds of the battle were muffled but unmistakably terrifying. Josie sat on the floor of the guest suite, her back pressed against the heavy oak door. She held a heavy brass candlestick she had taken from the mantle, her knuckles white. Arthur remained fast asleep, entirely exhausted, oblivious to the fact that an army of mafia hitmen were trying to burn his sanctuary down.

Josie’s sophisticated black maid dress was covered in dust that had shaken loose from the ceiling. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying for the imposing mafia boss who had promised to protect them.

Suddenly, the handle of the bedroom door rattled violently.

Josie gasped, scrambling backward, raising the heavy brass candlestick. "Who is it?" she cried out, her voice shaking.