Page 126 of The Art of Ruin

Coincidence is possible, but improbable.

I don’t believe in it.

The agent starts issuing instructions behind me, officers moving through the office while employees outside pretend not to stare and fail completely. I can already feel the ripple effect spreading through the building—the fear, the speculation, thehumiliation of federal agents walking through a company we spent years building from the ground up.

Through legitimate work.

Legitimate sacrifice.

My mother’s initials sit on every floor of this building.

Every contract.

Every ship.

Every hotel.

Every employee badge.

We’ve worked our asses off to keep this business clean. To keep the stink of our family name from tainting even an inch of it. We walked away from our mafia legacy for my mother, for my father, and still it follows us.

And now some arrogant bastard thinks he can drag her name through the dirt because he’s angry Casey walked away from him.

Rage settles low and heavy in my chest.

Not explosive.

Worse.

Focused, calculated.

Nico moves to my side, his voice low enough not to carry. “You know who this is?”

“Yes.”

“You know, or you suspect?”

I hand him the warrant instead of answering immediately.

He reads the judge’s name.

“Jasper has links to that Judge.”

His jaw tightens instantly. “Ah,” he says softly.

Exactly.

Across the room, Matteo is pacing now, one hand shoved through his hair while two agents search filing cabinets they’ll find absolutely nothing in.

“You won’t find anything,” he snaps.

“Obviously,” Nico replies, trying to calm our younger brother.

“That’s not the point. This is a warning, a move on the chessboard.”

Yes.

It is. The point is disruption.