AT THE BIRTHDAY PARTY, MY HUSBAND HUNG ME FROM THE CEILING BEAM AND WHPPED ME 30 TIMES, JUST BECAUSE I HAD STAINED HIS MISTRESS'S CLOTHES. I CALLED MY FIVE GANGSTER BROTHERS: "MAKE HIS ENTIRE FAMILY LIVE A FATE WORSE THAN DETH."

At 8:30 a.m. in the Vale mansion, Adrian Vale woke up with a pounding migraine and a throbbing wrist wrapped in an elastic bandage.

He rolled over, expecting the scent of lavender and the soft rustle of Anna making coffee downstairs. Instead, he smelled burnt toast and heard Vanessa shrieking from the bathroom.

"Adrian! Adrian, get in here right now!"

Adrian dragged himself out of bed, swearing under his breath. His wrist was swollen to the size of a grapefruit where Marco had twisted it. "What is it, Vanessa? Stop screaming, my head is splitting."

Vanessa stood in the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, staring in horror at her smartphone.

"My black card declined," she stammered, her face white. "I was trying to finalize the order for the couture fall collection for my boutique, and the bank rejected the transaction! It said 'Account Suspended by Creditor Notice!'"

Adrian scoffed, waving his good hand dismissively. "It’s a glitch. The system goes down on Sunday mornings. I’ll call the branch manager at J.P. Morgan."

He reached for his phone on the nightstand. There were forty-seven missed calls.

Thirty-two from the chief financial officer of Vale Enterprises. Twelve from his father. Three from his mother.

Before he could dial, the bedroom door swung open without a knock. Richard Vale stood there, his silk tie undone, his silver hair completely uncombed. The patriarch looked as if he had aged ten years overnight.

"Dad?" Adrian frowned. "What’s going on? Who the hell were those thugs who broke in last night? We need to call the commissioner—"

*SLAP.*

Richard’s palm struck Adrian’s face with enough force to spin him into the dresser. Perfume bottles shattered onto the floor.

"You arrogant, brainless bastard," Richard snarled, his chest heaving. "What did you do to Anna?!"

Adrian rubbed his cheek, stunned. "Anna? She spilled wine on Vanessa’s dress! She insulted our guests! I put her in her place! You were there, Dad! You sat right there and had a scotch while I handled it!"

"Do you know who called me at seven this morning?" Richard stepped forward, pointing a trembling, ink-stained finger at his son's chest. "Hudson Continental Bank. They called the entire three-hundred-and-forty-million-dollar development loan on the Palm Beach project. In cash. Due by Monday at four o'clock."

Adrian laughed nervously. "That’s impossible. Hudson Continental has held our paper for twenty years. They can’t just call a loan without a default event!"

"They invoked the moral turpitude clause, you imbecile!" Richard bellowed. "They have video! They have audio! They have a formal police report filed by Leo Moretti!"

Adrian paused, his brow furrowing. "Moretti? That ambulance-chasing lawyer who works out of Queens? Anna’s brother? What does he have to do with Hudson Continental?"

"Anna’s brother is the managing partner of the biggest maritime litigation firm on the eastern seaboard!" Richard screamed. "And his brother Dante owns the holding corporation that bought Hudson Continental’s bad debt two hours before dawn! They own our mortgages, Adrian! They own the yacht! They own the hangar at Westchester airport! They own the very roof over this goddamn house!"

Vanessa dropped her phone. The screen cracked across the tile.

"That’s... that’s not true," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Anna was an orphan from Brooklyn. She grew up in an apartment above a bakery. Adrian told me her family was dead or in jail!"

"Adrian is an idiot who never bothered to read her background check!" Richard spat. "Her father was Antonio Moretti! The man who controlled every freight crane from Red Hook to Newark! When he died, his sons took that empire and cleaned it through private equity and global logistics. They don't make headlines because they buy the companies that own the newspapers!"

Just then, the sound of multiple sirens wailed in the distance, climbing the private driveway of the estate.

Adrian ran to the window.

Four black-and-white state police cruisers, accompanied by two unmarked black SUVs, were coming up the drive. Behind them was a flatbed tow truck.

"What is that?" Adrian whispered, his stomach dropping into a bottomless pit.

Richard closed his eyes, leaning his head against the wall.