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 gunshot cracked like thunder against the Chicago skyline.

I slammed into the wet tar of the roof, bracing for the burning agony of a bullet.

But the pain didn't come.

I opened my eyes.

Julian was standing a few feet away, his gun still raised, smoke curling from the barrel.

Vanessa stood perfectly still. The silver revolver in her hand slowly drooped toward the ground.

A dark, blooming stain appeared on the center of her red silk gown.

“Vanessa!” Luca screamed.

She swayed, her eyes wide with shock, and collapsed backward onto the roof.

“No!” I cried, scrambling toward her.

Julian had shot her. He had used me as a human shield to buy himself the half-second he needed to fire first.

Vincenzo Romano roared. He pumped his shotgun, aiming it squarely at Julian’s head.

“Drop it!” Vincenzo commanded.

But Julian didn't drop it. He lunged forward with terrifying speed, wrapping his arm around my throat and hauling me violently to my feet again. He jammed the hot barrel of his gun directly into my temple.

“Shoot me, and she dies!” Julian screamed, his voice cracking with total panic.

Vincenzo froze. His finger hovered over the trigger, his icy blue eyes fixed on my terrified face. He was a ruthless mafia Don, a man who had ordered the deaths of dozens. But looking at me—the daughter he had abandoned to keep safe—his hands trembled.

“Let her go,” Vincenzo said, his voice lowering to a desperate growl. “Take me. I am the head of the Romano family. The old bosses will pay you double for my head.”

“I don't want the old bosses!” Julian shouted, dragging me backward toward the edge of the roof. The five-story drop loomed behind us. “I want out!”

Luca ran to Vanessa’s side. He dropped to his knees, pressing both hands hard against her chest wound. Blood soaked through his fingers.

“Stay with me, Vanessa,” Luca ordered, his face pale. “Look at me.”

Vanessa coughed, a thin trail of blood leaking from the corner of her mouth. She reached a trembling hand up and gripped Luca’s wet collar.

“Lily,” she gasped, her voice barely a whisper. “Please, Luca… my baby.”

“I’ll protect her,” Luca swore, tears finally mixing with the rain on his face. “I promise you, I’ll protect her.”

Vanessa’s eyes fluttered, losing focus. Her grip on his collar weakened.

And then, her hand fell limp onto the wet roof.

“Vanessa!” Luca yelled, shaking her shoulders.

She didn't move.

Luca stared at her lifeless body for a long, agonizing second. Then he slowly stood up.

He didn't look at his dead wife’s blackmailer. He didn't look at the rival Don.

He looked at the man who had been his best friend for twenty years.

Luca raised his pistol. His hand was completely steady.

“Julian,” Luca said quietly.

Julian swallowed, backing up until his heels hit the small concrete lip at the edge of the roof. “Stay back, Luca! I swear to God I’ll pull the trigger!”

“You’re out of leverage,” Luca said, taking a slow step forward. “Vanessa is dead. Helen is going to prison for the rest of her life for murdering Caroline. You have nothing left to blackmail.”

“I have the girl!” Julian screamed, pressing the gun harder into my temple. “I’ll kill her!”

“No, you won't.”

The voice didn't come from Luca.

It came from Vincenzo.

The old Don slowly lowered his shotgun. He placed it carefully on the wet tar. He raised his hands, showing he was unarmed.

“You want out, Julian?” Vincenzo asked, stepping forward. “I can give you out.”

Julian sneered. “You have nothing.”

“I have the five million dollars,” Vincenzo said calmly.

The wind seemed to stop howling.

Luca frowned. “You said you didn't take the money.”

“I didn't take it three years ago,” Vincenzo corrected. He looked at Julian. “But when I realized Helen Bellini took it, I tracked her down. I’ve been living in her building for six months, watching her. Waiting for the right time to reclaim it.”

I stared at Vincenzo. The pieces suddenly clicked into place. The strange, quiet man who moved into the apartment down the hall from my mother. The man who always kept his head down. It was my father. He had been close this entire time, not just to watch Helen, but to watch my mother. To watch me.

“Where is the money?” Julian demanded, his grip on my neck loosening slightly out of greed.

“It’s in a duffel bag in the trunk of my car,” Vincenzo lied. I could see the bluff in his eyes, but Julian couldn't. Julian was too desperate. “Let the girl walk over to Luca. You and I walk down to the alley. I give you the keys. You drive away.”

Julian stared at Vincenzo, his mind racing. He looked at the five-story drop behind him. He looked at Luca’s gun.

“Slide the car keys over here first,” Julian demanded.

Vincenzo slowly reached into his suit pocket.

But as he pulled his hand out, a sudden, blinding light washed over the roof.

A police helicopter roared overhead, its spotlight pinning us in a harsh white glare. The sound of approaching sirens wailed from the streets below. The neighbors had called the cops after the shotgun blast in the apartment.

Julian panicked.

The blinding light broke his focus. He flinched, shielding his eyes with his free hand.

It was the only opening Vincenzo needed.

The old Don didn't throw car keys. He threw a heavy, silver object with terrifying precision.

It was my mother’s rosary.

The heavy metal crucifix struck Julian squarely in the right eye.

Julian screamed, dropping his gun and stumbling backward.

I broke free from his grip, throwing myself onto the wet roof and scrambling toward Luca.

Julian grabbed his face, completely blinded and disoriented. His heel slipped on the wet concrete lip.

He windmilled his arms, trying to catch his balance.

“Luca!” Julian screamed, reaching out toward his oldest friend.

Luca didn't move. He stood perfectly still, his gun lowered, and watched.

Julian slipped backward over the edge of the roof.

His scream faded into the dark alley below, followed by a sickening, final thud.

Silence fell over the roof, broken only by the rain and the chopping blades of the helicopter above.

I sat on the tar, shaking violently, gasping for air.

Vincenzo walked over to me. He knelt down, his icy blue eyes softening with a paternal warmth I had never known. He reached out and gently touched my cheek.

“Are you hurt, Hannah?” my father asked softly.

“No,” I cried, throwing my arms around his neck. He smelled like rain and old wool.

Luca stood nearby, watching us. He lowered his gun and looked down at Vanessa’s body.

The police burst through the roof access door, flashlights cutting through the rain, screaming for everyone to put their hands up.

It was over.

But as an officer handcuffed Vincenzo, pulling him away from me, my father looked back over his shoulder.

“Hannah,” Vincenzo called out, his voice urgent.

“Dad?” I yelled back.