FRANK, DON'T TOUCH THE BRAKES. JUST MAKE SURE THE CAR LOOKS PERFECT WHEN ISABELLA GETS IN.

"Leo!" Emily lunged forward.

Luca caught her waist, pulling her hard against his chest and putting himself between her and the gun.

"Let the boy go, Vanessa," Luca said, his voice dangerously low. "You have what you want."

Vanessa smiled. It wasn't the beautiful, polished smile she had worn at dinner. It was the smile of a snake.

"I don't have everything I want, Luca," she said softly. "But I do have the truth. Tell the maid, Luca. Tell her why her precious father is in that photograph."

Emily looked up at Luca, her heart pounding against her ribs.

Luca didn't take his eyes off Vanessa.

"Arthur Carter wasn't a schoolteacher," Vanessa sneered. "Thirty years ago, he was the Moretti family’s chief accountant. He cooked the books. He hid the blood money."

Emily shook her head, tears blurring her vision. "No. No, my dad is a good man. He raised us in a tiny apartment. He never had money."

"Because he made a deal," Luca said quietly, his grip on Emily tightening to keep her steady. "When he wanted out to raise his daughters, my father let him walk away cleanly. He gave up the money for his life. But he left behind a fail-safe."

"The ledger," Vanessa said, tapping her coat pocket. "Written by your father, Emily. Every dirty secret the Morettis ever had. It’s all right here in his handwriting."

Vanessa pulled Leo closer. The little boy whimpered, clutching a small, plastic dinosaur in his hands.

"If I kill you tonight, Luca, the Moretti family falls to the Romanos. But if I kill Emily..." Vanessa tilted her head. "It’s just poetic justice. A loose end tied up."

"You want revenge for your father," Luca said calmly, slowly inching his hand toward his waist. "I killed him. This is between you and me. The girl and the boy have nothing to do with it. Let them walk out of here."

"I don't leave witnesses," Vanessa said, raising the gun.

"Neither do I," a voice boomed from the stairwell.

Vanessa flinched.

Isabella Moretti, seventy-four years old, stepped into the light.

She was wearing a thick black coat over her nightgown. Beside her stood Daniel, and behind him, a dozen armed men.

Vanessa’s eyes darted around. She was trapped.

"You should have used the poison in my tea this morning, Vanessa," Isabella said, her voice dripping with aristocratic disdain. "It would have been cleaner than tampering with Frank’s brakes."

Vanessa’s hand trembled. She pointed the gun directly at Leo’s head.

"Back off! I’ll kill him!"

Emily screamed, ripping herself from Luca’s grasp.

She didn't run away. She ran directly at Vanessa.

Vanessa panicked. She swung the gun toward Emily.

Bang.

The shot echoed deafeningly in the stone vault.

Emily fell to the floor.

"NO!" Luca roared.

He drew his weapon in a blur of motion and fired twice.

Vanessa dropped her gun, screaming as both her knees gave out. She collapsed to the marble floor, the ledger spilling from her pocket.

Leo broke free and ran.

But he didn't run to Luca.

He ran to Emily, who was lying motionless on the floor, clutching her chest.

Luca threw his gun to Daniel and dropped to his knees next to Emily.

His hands were covered in blood.

But as he pulled her hands away, he saw it.

The bullet hadn't hit her heart.

It had struck the thick, brass-bound clasp of the canvas bag she was wearing across her chest—the bag she had frantically packed back at the estate.

The bullet was lodged deep in the metal.

Emily gasped for air, the wind knocked out of her.

"Auntie Em!" Leo wailed, burying his face in her neck.

Emily wrapped her arms around the boy, sobbing hysterically. "I've got you, baby. I've got you."

Luca slumped back against the vault door, letting out a breath he felt like he’d been holding for a year.

He reached out and gently rested his hand on Emily’s head, stroking her hair as she cried into her nephew’s shoulder.

Daniel stepped over Vanessa, who was writhing and cursing on the floor. He kicked her gun away and picked up the ledger.

Isabella walked slowly toward Emily.

The old woman looked down at the bleeding maid, the terrified child, and her hardened son, who was looking at the girl like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

Isabella reached into her coat.

She pulled out a small, heavy silver key.

Not for a vault.

"Emily," Isabella said softly.

Emily looked up, her eyes wide with shock and pain.