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

The rain began to subside as dawn broke over the Brooklyn waterfront.

The Valenti crime syndicate was in absolute ruins. Federal agents had raided Victor Valenti's Manhattan penthouse at 4:00 AM based on the decrypted files Mara had provided, arresting the entire executive board on charges of racketeering, treason, and murder.

Inside Warehouse 14—the site of the previous ambush—Victor Valenti sat bound to a heavy wooden chair, surrounded by Moretti enforcers.

Gabriel walked into the warehouse, his face clean, wearing a bespoke charcoal suit. Behind him walked Mara, wearing an elegant emerald-green coat that perfectly complemented her dark auburn hair and radiant complexion.

Victor Valenti looked up, his face bruised and pale. He glared at Mara with bitter hatred.

"So this is the girl," Victor spat, blood dripping from his lip. "The chubby little nobody who broke my family."

Gabriel stopped right in front of Victor. Without saying a word, Gabriel reached into his jacket, pulled out a heavy silver handgun, and racked the slide with a loud, metallic CLACK.

"Say her name with respect," Gabriel whispered, the barrel resting against Victor’s forehead. "Or I won't wait for the FBI to take you."

Victor swallowed hard, the arrogance evaporating from his eyes. "Forgive me... Mrs. Moretti."

Mara walked up beside Gabriel, placing a hand gently on her husband's arm. Gabriel instantly lowered the weapon, his tense shoulders relaxing at her soft touch.

"The federal marshals are outside, Gabriel," Mara said softly, looking down at the defeated rival boss. "Let the law take what’s left of him. We have a home to build."

Gabriel stared at Victor for three seconds before turning his back. "Dominic. Hand him over to the feds."

"Yes, Don Moretti."

As they walked out into the crisp morning air of the harbor, Gabriel pulled Mara into his arms, wrapping his heavy coat around her to protect her from the ocean breeze.