"Of course I love him. Why else would I have stayed by his side for ten years? We clawed our way out of hell together. But love and power are two different currencies. Love can numb the pain, but power is what keeps you alive. You can live without love. You die without power."

Just as I finished, my phone vibrated. Dmitri glanced at his own and reported, "Message confirmed. Your brothers in Chicago... they all met with 'accidents.'"

"Mm," I responded, my voice devoid of emotion.

Dmitri took an involuntary step forward, his voice laced with confusion. "You're... not surprised? They were your family."

A corner of my mouth twitched. "Why would I be? I arranged it."

Dmitri’s eyes widened, the color draining from his face.

I met his gaze calmly, my tone as casual as if discussing the weather. "Anyone who stands in my way will be removed. I don't care who it is. Even my own blood." I stubbed out my cigarette. "Any other questions?"

Dmitri lowered his head, not daring to utter another word.

I picked up the gun from the table and glanced toward a side room. "Nico wants Bianca to stay? Fine. Let her stay. I could use the entertainment."

Footsteps echoed from the foyer. Bianca's cloying voice drifted in, ordering Nico's men around. "Be careful! Nico bought all of these for me at auction! You couldn't afford to replace one if you dropped it!"

Her gaze swept across the opulent estate, her greed and provocation unconcealed. Then, she saw me, sitting on the sofa with my back to her, flipping through a file.

She sashayed over. "Anya. Nico said the fresh air out here would be good for me. He told me to move in so we could get to know each other. You don't mind, do you?"

Without looking up, I turned a page of the financial report, my voice flat. "I do."

Bianca hadn't expected such a blunt reply. She faltered for a second, then her laughter became even more arrogant. "Well, it doesn't matter if you do. It's an order from the Don. He said I'll be replacing you soon enough. Then I'll be the one running this house."

She walked to the liquor cabinet and picked up my personal crystal glass. "This is a lovely glass. It's mine now."

When I continued to ignore her, Bianca perched on the arm of the sofa, making a show of stroking her collarbone. "Nico said the Griffin family crest on his chest will be re-inked for me soon. Your time is over, Anya."

She snatched the document from my hand, its sharp edge slicing my finger.

Only then did I finally look up, my gaze pinning her in place as if she were already a corpse. It had been a long time since I'd met someone so eager to die.

"Who let you in?"

"Nico, of course! Did you really think—"

I cut her off, my voice quiet but absolute. "There is only one mistress of this estate. And it is me."

Bianca flinched at my tone but quickly regained her bravado, puffing out her chest. "You wouldn't dare touch me. Nico said he let you off easy last night. If you do anything to me again, he'll throw you out of this house himself!"

A cold laugh escaped me, and I saw her shiver. I rose, drew the gun from my hip, and racked the slide in front of her.

"Touch you? Far too much trouble."

I lunged, my hand clamping around her throat, and slammed her down onto the sofa. Amidst her frantic scratching and muffled screams, I didn't aim the gun at her head. I shoved the barrel violently into her mouth. The cold steel pressed against the root of her tongue. Her terrified whimpers and gags filled the room as saliva dribbled onto the expensive leather.

Paralyzed with fear, Bianca went limp, her face a blotchy red.

"The glass she touched," I said to Dmitri without turning. "It's contaminated. Get rid of it." He nodded instantly.

I leaned close to Bianca's trembling form, my lips brushing her ear. "The last person who was this arrogant with me was named Silvio. Last night, I crippled one of his hands. If you doubt me, I have no problem arranging a meeting with your maker."

Straightening up, I pulled out my phone, dialed Nico's number, and put it on speaker.

"You have ten minutes to get your woman and her trash out of my house. If she’s not gone when the timer runs out, you can start planning her funeral."

Eight minutes later, the shriek of tires echoed from the driveway.

Nico burst into the room with his most trusted Capo, his face thunderous. When he saw Bianca collapsed on the floor, drool and tears streaking her face, and the disheveled sofa behind her, his anger flared.

Seeing Nico, Bianca scrambled into his arms as if he were her savior, sobbing, "Nico, she… she tried to throw me out! She used a gun… I was so scared…"

Nico muttered reassurances to her, then his sharp gaze snapped to me. "Anya, what the hell is this? I warned you last night! Bianca is still weak!"

I remained on the sofa, unmoving, merely lifting my head to meet his furious glare with an unnerving calm. "The meaning? I thought I was perfectly clear on the phone."

My indifference enraged him further. "This is my house, Anya! I am the Don! You don't make the decisions here!"

A bitter, humorless laugh escaped my lips. I remembered the first time he brought me here, his voice electric with excitement. Anya, this is our home. You are the mistress of this house! And now, he wanted me to let his whore move in.

I stood. "Your house? I think you've forgotten, Nico, whose name is on the deed. Or who controls the offshore accounts you use for laundering."