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 blast shattered the silence, ripping a hole through the drywall just inches from Luca’s head.

Plaster and wood splinters rained down on the carpet.

Luca dove forward, hitting the floor and rolling behind the overturned couch. He returned fire blindly into the hallway, two quick, suppressed shots that sent our attacker scrambling for cover.

“Get down!” Luca yelled at me.

I threw myself onto the floor, covering my head as another shotgun blast obliterated the small kitchen window. Glass rained down on my back.

Julian didn't hide. He stood frozen in the center of the room, his eyes wide with a strange, sick realization.

“He’s not shooting at you, Luca,” Julian whispered.

“Get down, you idiot!” Luca roared.

But Julian just smiled. He looked toward the hallway.

“Are you here for your money, old man?” Julian yelled over the ringing in our ears.

A harsh, raspy voice echoed from the dark stairwell.

“I’m here for my daughter.”

My blood ran cold.

My father.

Vincenzo Romano was standing in the hallway.

“She’s in here!” Julian shouted back. “Come and get her!”

Before I could process what was happening, Julian reached down, grabbed me by the back of my uniform collar, and hauled me to my feet. He shoved his gun hard against my spine.

“Julian, stop!” Luca yelled, raising his pistol from behind the couch. But he couldn't fire. I was completely blocking Julian’s body.

“I’m walking out of here, Luca,” Julian said, backing toward the shattered kitchen window that led to the fire escape. “The old man wants his daughter. I want my life. We have a trade to make.”

“If you give her to him, he will kill you anyway!” Luca warned.

“We’ll see,” Julian muttered.

He kicked the remaining glass out of the window frame and shoved me out onto the rusted metal fire escape. The cold Chicago rain instantly soaked us.

“Move up,” Julian ordered, pointing his gun at the roof access ladder. “Go!”

I scrambled up the wet iron stairs, my shoes slipping on the grates. Below us, I heard Luca shout, followed by the sound of heavy boots entering the apartment.

When we reached the flat, tar-paper roof, the wind howled around us. The city skyline was a blur of neon and rain.

Julian dragged me to the center of the roof, looking frantically for an adjacent building to jump to. But the gap was too wide. We were trapped.

The heavy metal access door to the roof suddenly crashed open.

A man stepped out into the rain.

He was in his late sixties, tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a dark suit without a coat. His face was lined with deep scars, and his eyes were a piercing, icy blue. He held a pump-action shotgun in his hands.

I had never seen him before in my life.

But I knew instantly who he was.

“Let her go,” Vincenzo Romano commanded. His voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the storm like a blade.

Julian kept me firmly in front of him. “You want her? You let me walk to the street. You tell your men to stand down.”

Vincenzo slowly pumped the shotgun. The shuck-shuck sound was terrifying.

“I have no men,” Vincenzo said. “I came alone.”

“Liar!” Julian screamed. “You took the millions from Caroline’s box! You’ve been rebuilding the syndicate in the shadows!”

Vincenzo stopped. He lowered the shotgun slightly.

“I didn't take Caroline’s money,” Vincenzo said quietly.

Julian froze. “What?”

“Caroline gave me the key ten years ago to fake my death. I never used it. I left the money for her, in case she ever needed to escape the Morettis.” Vincenzo stepped closer. “When she died three years ago, I went to the bank to empty the box so I could disappear for good. But it was already empty.”

My mind raced. If Vincenzo didn't take the money, and Julian didn't take it… who did?

“You’re lying,” Julian sneered. “If you didn't have the money, how did you find my apartment tonight? How did you know I was coming here?”

“I didn't,” Vincenzo said, his icy eyes locking onto Julian. “I followed the woman who took the money.”

Suddenly, the roof access door slowly swung fully open.

Stepping out from the shadows of the stairwell was Vanessa Bellini.

She was soaking wet, still wearing her torn red evening gown. In her hands, she held a small, black leather ledger.

“Hello, Julian,” Vanessa said, her voice completely devoid of emotion.

Julian stared at her in absolute shock. “Vanessa? How… how did you get here?”

“I followed Luca’s car,” she said simply.

“And what are you doing with him?” Julian yelled, pointing his gun at Vincenzo.

Vanessa smiled, a sad, broken expression.

She reached into the neckline of her ruined dress and pulled out a small, laminated piece of paper. She tossed it onto the wet tar roof.

The wind caught it, blowing it across the puddle until it stopped right at my feet.

I looked down.

It was an old, faded train ticket. A one-way pass to Montreal.

Dated three years ago. The exact night Caroline Moretti died.

And printed on the ticket was a name.

Helen Bellini.

“My mother didn't take a picture of that iron key to blackmail me,” Vanessa whispered, tears finally mixing with the rain on her face. “She took a picture of it so she could have a copy made for herself.”

The world seemed to stop spinning.

“Your mother?” Julian breathed.

“My mother,” Vanessa nodded, her voice breaking. “Helen was the cleaning lady at the hospital. She heard Caroline talking about the money. She stole the real key, emptied the box, and bought a train ticket to flee the country.”

Vanessa looked at me, her eyes hollow.

“But before my mother could leave,” Vanessa said, “Caroline caught her at the train station. They fought in Caroline’s car. And my mother… my sweet, poor mother… she cut the brake lines so Caroline couldn't follow her.”

I gasped, covering my mouth. The sweet old woman in the faded cardigan. The woman who had just defended her granddaughter.

She was a murderer.

“But she didn't get away,” Vanessa continued, pulling a small silver revolver from the folds of her dress. “Because someone else was waiting at the train station that night. Someone who saw everything.”

Vanessa aimed the revolver directly at Julian’s chest.

“You saw her do it, didn't you, Julian?” Vanessa cried. “You saw my mother cut the brakes. And instead of stopping her, you let Caroline die so you could blackmail my mother for the five million dollars!”

Julian didn't deny it. He just stared at the barrel of Vanessa’s gun.

“Put the gun down, Vanessa,” Luca’s voice rang out.

Luca stepped onto the roof, his weapon aimed at Vanessa.

“She killed my wife,” Luca said, his voice shaking with a rage I had never heard before. “Helen killed Caroline. And Julian let it happen.”

“I know,” Vanessa sobbed. “And I’ve spent three years pretending to love this monster just to keep him from turning my mother in to the police.”

Vanessa cocked the hammer of her revolver.

“But I’m done playing,” she said.

Julian panicked. He shoved me violently toward Vanessa to block her shot, raising his own gun to fire.