My Billionaire Mafia Husband Banished Me For Treason—Then His Dying Bodyguard Brought The Video Proving I Bleed Only For Him

Below on the main floor, the gunfire had ceased. Lorenzo’s soldiers had methodically neutralized Albert’s guards, disarming the survivors and securing the perimeter.

Evelyn walked slowly to the base of the gantry stairs, her boots crunching over spent shell casings and shattered glass. She looked up at the two men suspended against the dark sky.

Albert looked down, catching sight of her intact, breathing form.

"She's a witch, Darius!" Albert shrieked, spitting blood onto his lapel. "She manipulated the ledgers! She seduced Romano! She set you up from the very beginning!"

"Shut your mouth," Darius growled, thumbing back the hammer of his weapon with an audible, chilling click.

"Wait," Evelyn called out from the bottom of the stairs. Her voice was clear, ringing with quiet, absolute authority.

Darius paused, glancing down over the rail. "He doesn't deserve another breath, Evelyn."

"Don't shoot him yet," she said, climbing the metal stairs one deliberate step at a time. "He hasn't answered the only question that matters."

She reached the gantry landing, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with her husband. The smell of cordite, hot metal, and blood hung heavy between the three of them.

Evelyn looked directly into Albert’s bulging, frantic eyes. "The digital blackout on the heart monitor at Mount Sinai three years ago. The nurse on duty who signed off on the sudden ventricular failure... it was Sister Beatrice in the palliative ward, wasn't it?"

Albert stared at her, his lips trembling violently.

"She bought a condo in Boca Raton three weeks later with cash from a shell corporation," Evelyn continued, her voice clinical and precise. "You paid a nurse half a million dollars to inject potassium chloride into your brother's IV line while he slept."

"He was weak!" Albert suddenly screamed, dropping all pretense of innocence as his madness boiled over. "He was giving away our docks to the unions! He was going to name Darius head of the council before Darius was even thirty! It belonged to me! I built this empire with these hands!"

Darius’s face twisted into an expression of profound, agonizing horror. Every memory of his father’s final gasps in that hospital room inverted itself into a murder scene orchestrated by the man who had delivered the eulogy.

"You sat at my kitchen table," Darius said, tears burning tracks through the soot on his cheeks. "You ate bread baked by my wife. You told me you would die before you let harm come to this house."

"Family is a currency, boy!" Albert spat, venom dripping from his words. "And you spent yours on an emergency room stray!"

Darius didn't shout. He didn't curse.

He slowly lowered the gun from Albert’s chin, stepping back half a foot.

Albert let out a ragged, triumphant gasp, believing for a split second that his nephew’s legendary mercy had resurfaced. "Thank you, Darius. Blood always recognizes blood—"

Darius swung his right fist with the full weight of his body behind it.

The punch shattered Albert’s jaw with the force of a sledgehammer. Albert’s head snapped back, his limp body slipping over the waist-high iron rail of the gantry.