I watched the city wake up—people heading to work, grabbing coffee, living normal lives. I envied them. Once, I had been among them. Their biggest worry was traffic or a difficult boss. Not whether a dangerous man walked free.
"What happens if he's released?" I asked quietly.
Cesare didn't sugarcoat it. "He'll come after us. Immediately. He's patient but he's also vindictive, and he knows we’re up to something in the shadows. We’ve humiliated him, cost him money and power. More than once. He'll want revenge."
"So we go into hiding?"
"We fortify. The penthouse is secure. We increase security, limit exposure, and wait for him to make a move."
"That sounds like we’d be putting ourselves in a prison."
"It's survival. Until we can neutralize him permanently."
The words hung heavy.Neutralize. A polite word for kill.
My hand drifted to my stomach. Was this the world I was bringing a child into? Violence and fear and constant threat?
But looking at Cesare—strong despite his injuries, determined despite the odds—I knew the answer.
This wasourworld. And we'd make it as safe as we could. Together. If that meant killing people to ensure that our child was protected, then so be it.
The federal courthouse was imposing—stone and glass, flags waving, steps leading to justice or injustice depending on the day.
The media was already there. Cameras. Reporters. Word must have leaked about the hearing.
"Don't answer questions," Giulio instructed. "Don't engage. Just get inside."
We exited the vehicle. Immediately the shouts began:
"Mr. Monti! Is it true you were shot at Pier 76?"
"Mrs. Monti! How does it feel to be married to a mafia boss?"
"Is Viktor Kozlov being released today?"
I kept my head down, stayed close to Cesare. His hand was firm on my back—protective, grounding.
We climbed the courthouse steps. Cameras flashed. Questions assaulted us from all sides.
At the top, Cesare paused. Turned. Looked directly at the cameras.
"What are you doing?" I whispered.
"Sending a message."
He didn't speak. Just let them photograph him—standing tall despite the injuries, me at his side, unbroken and defiant.
Then we disappeared inside.
The courthouse interior was all marble and echoes. We were ushered through a security screening with metal detectors, my purse searched thoroughly.
Agent Muñoz met us inside—professional, concerned, clearly stressed.
"Mr. Monti. Mrs. Monti. I'm glad you're here despite everything."
"What's the situation?" Cesare asked.
"Viktor's team is already inside. The surprise witness arrived ten minutes ago—came in through a side entrance, heavily protected."
