Chapter 2

Marco stripped off his coat and wrapped it around Dani, his voice cracking with barely controlled emotion: "Don't be afraid... I'm your father. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I came too late."

The word "father" shattered what little defense the little girl had left.

Dani threw herself into Marco's arms, sobbing weakly: "Papa... save John... please save John..."

"Where is he?"

Marco didn't care about the mud and filth covering his daughter. He scooped her up with one arm and kicked open the rotting door, storming into the pathetic shelter made of scrap wood and prayer.

In the corner—where rain dripped through holes in the ceiling—lay a boy about Dani's age, dressed in equally tattered rags.

He was curled up on a pile of moldy straw, motionless. Barely breathing.

Dani stared at John—the brother she'd fought to keep alive—and the fragile calm she'd been holding onto disintegrated.

"John! John, no—he's not... he's not dead, is he?!" The little girl broke down completely, clutching her father's shirt. "Papa! Please! Save John! Save him!"

"He's not dying." Marco's eyes burned crimson. "I won't let him die."

He spun toward the door and roared like a beast unleashed: "MEDICAL TEAM! Get every top surgeon the family has on payroll to the hospital NOW! MOVE!!!"

Newark. Bonanno Family Private Hospital.

After a chaotic emergency resuscitation, the doctors confirmed that both children—aside from severe malnutrition and high fever—were out of immediate danger.

Only then did the steel cable of tension in Marco's spine finally snap loose.

But the relief didn't bring peace.

Instead, the images from the slum replayed in his mind with brutal clarity:

The garbage mountain. His flesh and blood living like stray dogs. His son curled up in a corner, half-dead. His daughter clutching that filthy piece of bread like it was gold.

"Don!"

Mike, his first lieutenant, approached quickly, his face ashen. He handed over a classified file, freshly compiled. "We've got everything. Ms. Dyson was forcibly taken yesterday by the Dyson family and locked up. Behind her back, they dumped the kids in the landfill to die."

Mike took a steadying breath. "They're using her sick brother's medical bills as leverage. They're forcing her to attend a banquet tonight at the Diamond Oasis Hotel—an arranged marriage with that old bastard David Davis."

"Diamond Oasis Hotel..."

Marco turned slowly. The killing intent radiating off him was so thick the air itself seemed to freeze.

"Tonight," he said, his voice coming from somewhere deep and hellish, "the Diamond Oasis Hotel runs red."

Meanwhile. Diamond Oasis Hotel. Third Floor Ballroom.

Newark's two most powerful families—the Dysons and the Davises—were hosting an alliance banquet, packed with every wealthy vulture in the tri-state area.

David Davis was currently fawning over Gianna's half-brother, Halse Dyson, pouring him whiskey with trembling, eager hands.

"Halse, I've heard so much about your sister Gianna. They say she's a real beauty."

David's face was flushed an unnatural red, his pupils dilated with lust. He was practically vibrating with anticipation.

"You'll see her soon enough," Halse sneered, his expression twisted with malice. "Or if you want a preview... I could arrange something. Father won't care. She's just a bargaining chip anyway."

"A preview would be perfect." David grinned and pulled out a small plastic baggie filled with white powder. He handed it to a waiter with explicit instructions. "Make sure this gets into her drink."

Outside the ballroom.

Gianna stood alone in the hallway, adjusting an ill-fitting secondhand gown that hung awkwardly on her thin frame.

Half an hour ago, she'd been locked in a room, begging—begging—just to see her children.

All she got was her stepmother's venomous phone call:

"Listen to me, you little bitch. Think about your brother Philip lying in that hospital bed waiting for dialysis. If you don't show up tonight, I'm cutting off his treatment tomorrow. No money, no medicine. Start planning his funeral."

For Philip's life. For the chance to see Dani and John again.

She had no choice.

Gianna pressed her fingers to her temples, exhaustion washing over her.

She was just a woman. If her mother were still alive... if she had someone—anyone—strong enough to protect her...

A blurred, towering figure flickered through her mind.

Gianna's lips twisted into a bitter smile.

Who in this world can you really rely on? Who stays?

She shook her head, took a deep breath, and pushed open the gilded doors.

What greeted her wasn't kindness.

It was a firing squad of socialites, their laughter sharp as knives.

"Oh my God, look who it is! Gianna Dyson! I thought she'd be too ashamed to ever show her face in polite society again."

"Nineteen years old and knocked up by some random nobody. She gave birth to bastards and didn't even know who the father was. The 'golden child' of Newark turned into a slum rat. If I were her, I'd have disappeared permanently."

"Shh, darling, don't be cruel. Some people just have a taste for cheap thrills. What we call degrading, she probably calls fun..."

Gianna had vanished for six years, but her absence only made her more legendary. And that drove these women insane with jealousy.

In six years, not one of them had managed to outshine her.

David's eyes locked onto Gianna the second she appeared.

A waiter glided forward smoothly, offering her a crystal flute of champagne on a silver tray.

The drugged one.

Gianna accepted the glass, immediately sensing the predatory stares crawling over her skin.

Disgusting. Greedy. Shameless.

Her stomach turned.