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“When do we not?” I pour him a cup of coffee, slide it across the table, and motion at a chair.

“This is serious, Marco.”

“It always is.” I point to the seat. “Sit. You look like shit.”

He remains standing, pulling out his phone instead. “I’ve been monitoring the situation all night. The intel is… concerning.”

“Define concerning.” I take a sip of espresso.

“Your wife has been busy.” He scrolls through something on his screen. “Very busy. Last night, she made contact with every major arms dealer in the tri-state area.”

“And?”

“And she’s acquiring military-grade equipment. Assault rifles, body armor, explosives.”

I set down my coffee cup, finally giving him my full attention. “Go on.”

“She’s not just gathering weapons, boss. She’s recruiting soldiers. Ex-military, mercenaries, anyone willing to fight for the right price.” His voice drops lower. “Our sources estimate she’s assembled at least forty men. All combat-trained.”

The information settles over me like a warm blanket.

Pride, actually.

My brilliant, beautiful wife is building herself an army. She’s not playing games anymore—she’s preparing for real war.

A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “Will she?”

Nicolo stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Will she what?”

“Will she come for me?” I lean back in my chair. “With her forty soldiers and military-grade weapons. Will my wife finally stop hiding behind proxies and come for me herself?”

“Jesus Christ, Marco.” He rakes both hands through his hair. “This isn’t a joke. She’s coming to kill you. To kill all of us. This is war.”

“I know what it is.” I pick up a berry, chewing slowly. “The question is whether she has the guts to see it through.”

“She’s already seen it through!” His voice cracks with frustration. “She’s killed eighteen of our men. Stolen millions in cash. What more proof do you need that she’s serious?”

“Those were warm-ups.” I take another berry. “Foreplay. If Aria really wants to end this, she’ll come to the compound. She’ll come for me.”

Nicolo pulls out a chair and collapses into it. “You’re fucking insane. You know that, right? Your wife is assembling an army to destroy everything we’ve built, and you’re sitting here eating breakfast like it’s Christmas morning.”

“Because it is Christmas morning.” I lean forward, meeting his eyes. “For months, I’ve been trying to bring her home. Trying to make her see reason. But she’s stubborn. She wants to do this the hard way.”

“The hard way being armed conflict that could leave us all dead?”

“The hard way being her learning that Marco Bianchi doesn’t lose.” I set down my fork. “She wants to be a queen? Fine. Let her wear the crown. But when the smoke clears, she’ll remember who built the throne.”

He shakes his head. “This is about your ego.”

“This is about my family.” The words come out sharper than intended. “My wife. My child. Aria thinks she can build something better by tearing down what I’ve created. I’m going to prove her wrong.”

“And if she succeeds? If she actually manages to?—”

“She won’t.” I interrupt him. “But I respect her enough to give her the chance to try.”

Nicolo stares at me for a long moment. “There’s something else.”

“I’m listening.”