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“Where is she?” asked Lydia, staring at the four men in front of her. They were her most trusted men and the only ones who understood the importance of finding the woman.

“We’re not sure, ma’am. After the attack at the convent, she disappeared. The men thought they saw her briefly on the cameras at the house, but when they went back to check the footage, there was nothing there.”

“Burn the house to the ground. There’s nothing we need there any longer.

Burn it and sell the land to the damn developer.

” She started to turn away from the men, then turned back.

“Wait. There will be a box somewhere in that house. I’m sure of it.

It will have papers inside it. Don’t open it but get me that damn box. ”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Have you checked her attorneys of record?” she asked thoughtfully. The men all shook their heads. “Do it. Her court case was taken over by a different legal team. Find out who they are and where they are located.”

“Of course.”

She gave a curt nod, and the men left the room. If she didn’t find that woman and end her, it could ruin everything she’d worked so hard to build.

Anthony might have been a brilliant businessman, but he was weak in every other way. She’d never been happier than the day he died. It was as if the weight was nearly gone from around her neck.

Now, she was the ruler of this empire, and in time, she would control everything throughout Europe.

Time. It was the one thing she didn’t have an abundance of or an ability to control. At eighty-five, she was on the downhill side of her life. Very downhill. She was healthy, she was active, she was still in her right mind, and her thoughts were clear.

She just wished she could have another twenty or twenty-five years, but she’d be lucky if she got another ten.

Standing from the massive mahogany desk, she walked around it to stare out the back windows of her villa.

Below the veranda stretched along the Tyrrhenian Sea.

To the left and right were rows and rows of olive trees and grapevines.

Her land was fertile, fruitful, producing some of the world’s best wines and olive oils.

It had been her personal mission to make sure that the land would always give back to her. The businesses that Anthony built were ever-changing.

Drugs. More drugs. Less drugs. Weapons. No weapons. More weapons. Bigger weapons. Tanks. And now, they were asking for military aircraft. The world was going to destroy itself, and she was more than happy to provide the tools for it to do so.

Opening the French doors, she stepped out onto the veranda and was immediately met by a member of the kitchen staff.

“Are you ready for lunch, ma’am?” asked the older man.

“I think so, Roberto. Do you have some of the tapenade you made last night leftover?”

“Of course, ma’am. I made a larger batch to ensure you could enjoy it today.”

“Lovely. I’ll start with that and some fresh bread. Then, well, surprise me with whatever you have.”

“I’ll be right back,” he nodded.

She demanded loyalty from her staff, and Roberto had been with her for nearly thirty years now. His father had been with her before him.

She waited until he was out of earshot and then muttered to herself.

“Surprises. I don’t tolerate them unless they’re about food.”