“Boss,” Silvio said, his voice hesitant.

“It is done, Silvio,” I said. “There is no more empire to protect.”

Silvio looked at me for a long moment, then nodded once and led his men toward the elevator.

The federal agents led Tony and his remaining loyalists out of the room.

The penthouse grew quiet, save for the hum of the air conditioning and the steady patter of the rain.

Elena remained standing by the broken glass, her tactical vest dark against the city lights.

“You have twenty-four hours to sign the papers,” she said.

“My lawyers will want to fight it,” I said.

“Your lawyers do not have the files I took from the safe,” she replied.

I walked over to the desk and picked up a crystal tumbler that had survived the struggle.

It was empty, dry, and cold to the touch.

“You were a good maid, Elena,” I said, putting the glass down.

“I hated the dusting,” she said, a faint smile touching her lips before her professional mask returned.

“But you did it well,” I said.