GET THAT WOMAN OUT OF HERE! SHE'S NOT FAMILY, AND IF YOU LET HER NEAR MY TABLE AGAIN, YOU'RE FIRED!” THE MAFIA BOSS'S FIANCÉE HUMILIATED HIS

The car swerved on the wet pavement.

“My father is dead,” I choked out, fighting the steering wheel to keep us on the road. “He died in the syndicate wars ten years ago! My mother showed me his death certificate!”

“A piece of paper bought and paid for,” Julian sneered, his eyes frantically scanning the rearview mirror. “Drive faster. If he finds her before we do, we’re both dead.”

I slammed my foot on the gas pedal. My mind was spinning out of control.

I grew up believing my father was a traveling salesman who died of a heart attack. It wasn't until I was twenty-four, packing up my mother’s old apartment after her diagnosis, that I found the lockbox. Inside were clippings of the Romano crime family, a marriage certificate, and a letter explaining the truth.

She told me my father, Don Vincenzo Romano, was assassinated by the Morettis. She told me she fled to give me a normal life.

But if he was alive… why did he never come for us?

Fifteen minutes later, I pulled the Mercedes into the dark, rain-soaked alley behind my mother’s apartment building. It was a rundown brick complex in the South Loop.

“Turn off the headlights,” Julian ordered.

I killed the lights. The engine idled quietly.

“We go up together,” Julian said, pressing the gun to my ribs. “You unlock the door. If you scream, I kill you, and then I kill her. Understand?”

I nodded, tears mixing with the rain on my face.

We hurried out of the car and into the dimly lit back stairwell. My mother lived on the third floor. With every step, my heart pounded louder against my ribs.

When we reached the third-floor landing, I froze.

The door to my mother’s apartment was wide open.

The deadbolt had been blown out of the wood frame, shattered splinters littering the cheap hallway carpet.

Julian pushed me behind him, raising his weapon. He kicked the door fully open and swept into the room.

I followed closely, my hands covering my mouth to muffle a scream.

The apartment was completely destroyed.

The couch was overturned. The bookshelves were emptied, pages torn and scattered across the floor. The small kitchen table was smashed in half.

“Mom!” I cried out, rushing into the bedroom.

Empty.

The bathroom.

Empty.

“She’s gone,” Julian whispered, standing in the center of the living room. His gun hand dropped slightly. “He took her.”

“Who took her?!” I screamed, turning on him. “Where is my mother, Julian?!”

Julian didn't answer. He was staring at something on the floor near the overturned couch.

I followed his gaze.

Resting amid the broken glass and torn books was a man’s heavy wool trench coat.

It was charcoal gray, soaked with rain, and completely out of place in my mother’s modest apartment.

I walked over and knelt beside it. My hands trembled as I picked it up. It felt heavy. Expensive.

“Don't touch it,” Julian warned.

But I didn't listen. I reached into the coat’s deep pocket, feeling something smooth and hard inside.

I pulled it out.

It was a beautiful, ornate silver rosary.

I gasped, dropping it onto the carpet.

“You recognize it,” Julian said softly.

“It’s my mother’s,” I whispered, tears blurring my vision. “She never takes it off. She was holding it when she went into surgery. Why is it in this coat?”

“Because that coat belongs to the man who took her,” a deep voice said from the doorway.

Julian spun around, raising his gun.

Standing in the shattered doorway, silhouetted by the flickering hallway light, was Luca Moretti.

His black suit was soaked with rain. He held a suppressed pistol casually in his right hand, but it wasn't aimed at Julian. It was aimed at the floor.

“Luca,” Julian breathed, taking a step back. “How did you find us?”

“You think I don't track my own vehicles?” Luca stepped into the apartment, his eyes locking onto mine. “Are you hurt, Hannah?”

“No,” I sobbed. “But my mother is gone.”

Luca looked at the charcoal coat on the floor. His jaw tightened.

“Drop the gun, Julian,” Luca ordered.

“If I drop it, you kill me!” Julian shouted, raising the weapon to aim squarely at Luca’s chest.

“If you don't drop it, I shoot you in the knee and leave you for the Romanos,” Luca replied, his voice terrifyingly calm. “Because Vincenzo Romano is alive. And he’s the one who took her.”

Julian’s hands shook. “You knew? You knew he was alive this whole time?”

“I found out three years ago,” Luca said. “The night Caroline died.”

I stared at Luca. “What does my father have to do with your wife?”

Luca didn't look at me. He kept his eyes on Julian.

“Tell her, Julian,” Luca said. “Tell Hannah why Vincenzo Romano didn't die ten years ago. Tell her who helped him fake his death.”

Julian swallowed hard. He looked at me, then at the coat.

“It was Caroline,” Julian whispered.

My world stopped spinning and completely shattered.

“Luca’s wife?” I asked, my voice barely a breath. “Caroline helped my father?”

“Caroline was a peacemaker,” Luca said softly, his voice thick with old grief. “Ten years ago, the war was destroying both our families. She secretly met with your father. She helped him fake his death so he could walk away from the syndicate, allowing his men to stand down. She saved hundreds of lives. And she paid off the right people to keep your mother hidden.”

“Then why did she die?” I cried.

Luca’s eyes finally met mine, and the sorrow in them was absolute.

“Because someone found out Caroline was hiding the Romano fortune in a central station safety deposit box to fund Vincenzo’s escape,” Luca said. “Someone who wanted that money for themselves.”

Luca slowly raised his gun, aiming it directly at his best friend’s head.

“Where is my wife’s money, Julian?”

Julian laughed hysterically. He lowered his gun, letting it hang by his side.

“I don't have it, Luca,” Julian smiled, a mad, desperate grin. “I never got it.”

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the rusted iron key.

He tossed it onto the carpet next to the charcoal coat.

“The box was already empty when I got there,” Julian said.

Luca frowned. “Empty? Who took it?”

Before Julian could answer, the floorboards in the hallway creaked.

A shadow moved in the doorway behind Luca.

I saw the glint of a metal barrel.

“Luca, look out!” I screamed.