The Mafia Boss's Son Reached For Me At His Wedding—Then I Looked Up At His Dead Wife’s Face

Forty minutes later, the iron gates of the Whitmore compound stood wide open, bathed in the blinding glare of floodlights. Armed men in black suits—men loyal to Lucas’s payroll—were stationed every ten paces along the driveway, assault rifles held at low ready.

I stepped out of the black SUV alone.

I was wearing Eleanor’s ivory silk trench coat that Martha had kept preserved in the mansion's master closet. My hair was tied up exactly like the woman in the portrait above the ballroom fireplace. With every step I took across the rain-slicked gravel, I channeled all the fury, grief, and defiance of the Bennett family.

As soon as the guards saw my face, their weapons lowered slightly in pure shock.

""Is that... Mrs. Whitmore?"" one whispered, frantically tapping his comms earpiece.

""She’s dead, you idiot!"" another replied, his voice cracking with fear. ""Who the hell is that?""

""Tell Lucas his master has returned,"" I said, my voice ringing clear and steady through the night air.

The heavy double doors of the mansion swung open. Standing in the grand foyer was Lucas Whitmore, dressed in an immaculate charcoal three-piece suit, holding an antique gold pocket watch. Beside him was Victoria, her wedding dress torn at the hem, mascara streaked down her trembling cheeks.

""Well, well,"" Lucas chuckled softly, stepping down the marble steps. ""I have to admit, sister-in-law, you have more lives than a feral cat. How did you walk away from two hundred pounds of thermite?""

I didn't answer his question. I took three steps forward, stopping at the base of the marble staircase. ""Where is the baby, Lucas?""

Victoria stepped forward, her voice shrill with hysterics. ""It’s not Eleanor, Lucas! It’s Claire! The twin! I told you she was working catering in D.C.! She’s an imposter!""

Lucas raised an eyebrow, tilting his head as he studied my face. ""Twin or wife, it makes no difference to the Whitmore trust. You both have Eleanor’s blood. And as long as a single Bennett draws breath, Oliver’s legal guardianship remains contested.""

Lucas snapped his fingers, and two guards stepped out from the library, dragging Martha between them. Upstairs on the landing, another guard stood by the railing, holding Oliver in a portable car seat. The baby was crying, his little arms flailing desperately.

""Hand over your phone and kneel on the marble, little twin,"" Lucas said, pulling a snub-nosed revolver from his jacket. ""You made a very brave entrance, but you forgot one small detail: Alexander isn't here to save you. He died in the sanitarium fire along with the rest of your hope.""