The billionaire’s wife saw the shooter before anyone else did.

The Moretti fortress in Old Westbury was built like a modern medieval castle—reinforced concrete walls, bulletproof glass, and an automated turret system overlooking three acres of private forest.

Inside the grand sitting room, Donna Isabella Moretti—Gabriel’s regal sixty-year-old mother—sat beside Mara’s bed, holding a warm cup of broth.

"Drink a little more, mia figlia," Isabella said gently, brushing a strand of dark hair from Mara’s forehead.

Mara smiled weakly, sitting propped up against silk pillows. "I'm fine, Donna Isabella. Really. The doctor said the shoulder is healing."

"Nonsense," Isabella snapped with maternal authority. "You took a bullet for my son and saved my life from that snake Tomas. In this house, you are not 'Donna Isabella' to me. You call me Mother."

Mara’s eyes widened slightly in emotional shock. For three years, Isabella had maintained a polite, distant formality toward her. Now, the matriarch looked at her with pure, unyielding affection.

The heavy oak doors opened, and Gabriel walked into the room, flanked by Dominic. Gabriel had changed into a dark tactical uniform, two silver handguns holstered at his hips.

Isabella stood up, her face turning serious. "What is the situation outside?"

"Victor Valenti and Tomas have joined forces," Gabriel reported, stepping over to Mara’s bedside and kissing her cheek softly. "They’ve assembled over eighty men. They know if they don't strike the fortress tonight, I will hunt them down one by one tomorrow."

"Eighty men?" Mara asked, her pulse quickening with anxiety. "Gabriel... the perimeter guard only has thirty soldiers."

"Thirty Moretti soldiers inside a fortified position are worth a hundred street thugs," Gabriel said with absolute confidence. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a sleek silver flash drive—the one Mara had recovered from Tomas's safe. "This drive contained all of Valenti's financial accounts and police bribes. Dominic just leaked it to the federal prosecutor."

"So Valenti is desperate," Mara realized, her sharp mind piecing the tactical picture together instantly. "He has no choice but to attack now before the FBI freezes his assets."

"Exactly," Gabriel nodded, looking at her with growing admiration. "He thinks he can overwhelm us with raw numbers."

"He will try to use the old service tunnels," Mara suddenly spoke up, her hazel eyes sharp.

Gabriel paused. "What service tunnels?"

Mara pointed toward the estate blueprint laid out on the side table. "When I was restoring the estate's historical gardens last year, I found the original architectural drawings from 1920. There’s an unmapped drainage tunnel under the east fountain. Tomas worked here for thirty years—he knows about it. He won't hit the front gates. He’ll send a strike team through the east garden to flank you from inside."

Gabriel and Dominic exchanged a look of pure shock.

Dominic let out a low whistle. "Boss... if Tomas got inside through that tunnel, we would have been caught in a crossfire."

Gabriel leaned down, cupping Mara’s face with both hands, his thumb stroking her cheek with intense pride. "You just saved our lives a second time, my Queen."