Seraphina let out a sharp, mocking laugh that cut through the low murmur of the dining room.

“You think you can just walk in here with a piece of paper and take fifty years of our lives?” she asked.

She leaned forward, her heavy diamond necklace catching the light.

“This is Romano property.”

“Actually, Mrs. Romano, it isn’t,” I said.

My hands were steady now, resting on the back of a vacant leather chair.

“The court agrees that the foundation of your ownership is built on fraud.”

Nico looked at me, his dark eyes narrowing into thin slits.

The charm was completely gone now, replaced by a cold, calculating stillness.

“Harper,” he said, using my name for the first time.

“You are a waitress.”

“You carry plates.”

“You do not run Philadelphia dynasties.”

“I run this one,” I said.

Denise stepped closer to Nico, tapping the blue-backed document with her index finger.

“The police are already on their way to assist with the orderly closing of the premises, Mr. Romano.”

“I suggest you instruct your security staff not to interfere.”

A phone buzzed on the table.