I crashed my treacherous sister's luxury wedding wearing dirty medical bandages to prove I didn't die in the fire she used to steal my life.
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Chapter 63 / 115
Chapter 55
That evening, Marco Rossi’s private helicopter touched down on the villa’s helipad. Marco stepped out, looking older but every bit as dangerous as he had in New York. He walked straight onto the terrace where Dominic was pouring two glasses of scotch. "Vance’s remnants didn't die out in Marseille," Marco said without preamble, accepting the glass. "A new syndicate faction—calling themselves the Syndicate of the North—is trying to consolidate power across Geneva and Paris. And they've set their sights on your sons."
