“GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF MY SON! YOU'RE A MAID, NOT HIS MOTHER!” THE MAFIA BOSS'S FIANCÉE SLAPPED HIS 24-YEAR-OLD HOUSEMAID IN FRONT OF SIXTY DINNER GUESTS—BUT WHEN HIS SIX-YEAR-OLD SON PULLED A BLOODSTAINED LETTER FROM HIS TEDDY BEAR AND WHISPERED FIVE WORDS, MATTEO RICCI ORDERED THE ENTIRE MANSION SEALED.**

“GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF MY SON! YOU'RE A MAID, NOT HIS MOTHER!”

The mafia boss's fiancée slapped his 24-year-old housemaid in front of sixty dinner guests—but when his six-year-old son pulled a bloodstained letter from his teddy bear and whispered five words, Matteo Ricci ordered the entire mansion sealed.

“Did you honestly think wearing his dead mother's necklace would make you part of this family?”

Serena DeLuca grabbed the silver chain around my neck.

Before I could answer, she slapped me.

Hard.

My cheek burned.

Sixty guests stood frozen beneath the chandeliers of the Ricci mansion.

And beside me, a little boy began to cry.

“Don't hurt Emma!”

Six-year-old Oliver Ricci wrapped both arms around my waist.

Serena laughed bitterly.

“Look at that. She's even taught him to defend her.”

My name is Emma Parker.

I'm twenty-four years old, and I've been working at the Ricci estate in Connecticut for ten months.

I wasn't supposed to be in the dining room tonight.

I was supposed to be upstairs, helping Oliver fall asleep.

But he'd woken from another nightmare.

The same nightmare he'd been having for almost a year.

A woman screaming.

Breaking glass.

And someone locking a door.

“Emma.”

Matteo Ricci's voice came from the head of the table.

Thirty-five years old. Black hair. A perfectly tailored suit.

A man powerful enough to make grown men tremble simply by entering a room.

But tonight, he wasn't looking at Serena.

He was looking at my face.

“Who hit you?”

Serena immediately reached for his arm.

“Darling, please. You know how manipulative she's become.”

Matteo didn't move.

“I asked a question.”

“She stole something from your late wife!”

Every eye turned toward the necklace.

A tiny silver locket shaped like a heart.

I touched it instinctively.

“I didn't steal it.”

Serena scoffed.

“Then explain why you're wearing something that belonged to Isabella.”

I looked down at Oliver.

His little hands were shaking.

“He gave it to me,” I whispered.

Serena burst into laughter.

“A six-year-old child? That's your defense?”

“Oliver found it in his mother's old jewelry box.”

“And you accepted it?”

“He asked me to wear it.”

“Why?”

I swallowed.

“Because he said his mommy wanted me to have it.”

The room fell silent.

Matteo slowly pushed back his chair.

“What did you just say?”

Serena stepped forward.

“She is clearly putting these ridiculous ideas into his head.”

But Matteo ignored her.

He knelt in front of Oliver.

“Buddy, did you give Emma Mommy's necklace?”

Oliver nodded.

“Why?”

The little boy stared at the floor.

Then he whispered something that made Matteo's expression change.

“Because Emma listens.”

Matteo blinked.

“What do you mean?”

Oliver wiped his nose with his sleeve.

“When I talk about Mommy, Emma doesn't tell me to stop.”

Nobody moved.

Serena folded her arms.

“Matteo, we've discussed this. The child needs to move on.”

Matteo slowly stood.

“My son is six years old.”

“And?”

“He lost his mother.”

Serena rolled her eyes.

“Almost a year ago. At some point, we have to stop letting him live in the past.”

Matteo looked at her.

“Leave him alone.”

Three words.

Quiet.

Absolute.

Serena's mouth tightened.

But she stepped back.

I thought that was the end of it.

Until Oliver pulled at my apron.

“Emma?”

I knelt beside him.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Can I show Daddy now?”

My stomach tightened.

For three weeks, Oliver had been asking me the same question.

And every time, I'd told him he could show his father whenever he felt ready.

I knew he was frightened.

I just didn't know why.

“Show me what?” Matteo asked.

Oliver looked toward Serena.

Then he shook his head.

“Not if she's here.”

Serena's face reddened.

“Excuse me?”

Matteo crouched again.

“Oliver, look at me.”

His son hesitated.

“You can tell me anything.”

Oliver's lower lip trembled.

“Even if someone gets angry?”

Matteo's expression darkened.

“Especially then.”

For several seconds, Oliver didn't move.

Then he reached for the worn brown teddy bear tucked beneath his arm.

Mr. Buttons.

The same bear he'd slept with since he was two.

The same bear he'd refused to let anyone wash.

Oliver turned it over.

And carefully pulled open a small tear along its back.

Something white slipped onto the carpet.

A folded envelope.

Its edges stained a dark reddish brown.

Matteo picked it up.

“What is this?”

Oliver began crying again.

“Mommy told me to hide it.”

Serena made a sharp sound.

“Oh, for God's sake. Now we're inventing messages from dead people?”

Matteo didn't even glance at her.

“Oliver, when did Mommy give you this?”

“The night before she went away.”

Matteo froze.

His wife, Isabella Ricci, had died eleven months earlier.

According to the police report, she'd lost control of her car on a rain-soaked mountain road.

The vehicle had caught fire.

Her death had been ruled an accident.

Matteo had barely spoken about that night since.

But Oliver remembered.

He remembered more than anyone knew.

“Daddy,” he whispered.

Matteo reached for him.

“I'm here.”

Oliver pointed toward the envelope.

Then he said five words so softly I almost missed them.

“Mommy said don't trust Serena.”

A glass shattered somewhere behind us.

Serena had dropped her champagne.

Matteo slowly turned.

“What?”

Serena shook her head.

“No. Absolutely not. That woman was paranoid, Matteo. You know how she was before the accident.”

Matteo looked back at the envelope.

His hands were trembling.

He opened it.

Inside was a handwritten letter.

Isabella's handwriting.

I recognized it immediately.

I'd seen her notes tucked inside Oliver's storybooks.

Matteo unfolded the page.

He read the first sentence.

And stopped breathing.

“What does it say?” Serena demanded.

He didn't answer.

“Matteo?”

He read further.

Then slowly lifted his eyes.

“Where were you the night Isabella died?”

Serena went pale.

“You know where I was.”

“Tell me again.”

“At my sister's apartment.”

Matteo looked toward the head of security standing beside the doorway.

“Dante.”

“Yes, boss?”

“Get the security recordings from that night.”

Serena laughed nervously.

“Matteo, those recordings were deleted months ago.”

He turned toward her.

“How would you know that?”

Silence.

Serena opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

Then Oliver suddenly grabbed my hand.

“Emma.”

I looked down.

His face had gone white.

“What's wrong, sweetheart?”

He pointed toward Serena.

“She's wearing it.”

I followed his finger.

Around Serena's wrist was a delicate gold bracelet with three tiny emeralds.

I'd seen it before.

In a photograph beside Oliver's bed.

Isabella had been wearing it the day before she died.

Matteo noticed where Oliver was pointing.

His expression changed.

“Serena.”

She instinctively covered the bracelet.

“Where did you get that?”

She forced a smile.

“You gave it to me.”

“No.”

His voice was dangerously calm.

“I gave you a diamond bracelet for your birthday. That one belonged to my wife.”

Serena stepped backward.

“Matteo, please. You're frightening everyone.”

He unfolded the letter again.

And this time, he read aloud.

“If anything happens to me, look inside the blue music box. Serena knows what she put in Oliver's medicine.”

My blood went cold.

Oliver's medicine.

The little bottle Serena insisted he take every night.

The medicine that always made him so sleepy he could barely keep his eyes open.

I'd questioned it once.

Serena had threatened to fire me.

Matteo looked at me.

“Emma.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Has Oliver been taking medication?”

I nodded slowly.

“Every evening.”

“Prescribed by whom?”

I couldn't answer.

Because I'd never seen a prescription.

Serena rushed forward.

“He has anxiety! His doctor recommended it!”

“Which doctor?”

She stopped.

Matteo stepped toward her.

“Give me his name.”

Serena's eyes filled with tears.

“Please, Matteo. I did everything for this family.”

Dante appeared in the doorway.

“Boss.”

Matteo didn't turn.

“What?”

“We found the blue music box in the old nursery.”

Matteo went completely still.

“And?”

Dante swallowed.

“There's something inside you need to see.”

He handed Matteo a small black recording device.

Attached to it was a note.

Three words.

PLAY THIS FIRST.

Matteo pressed the button.

Static filled the dining room.

Then a woman's voice began speaking.

Isabella's voice.

Shaking.

Terrified.

“Matteo, if you're hearing this, Serena has already found out what I know.”

Serena screamed.

“TURN THAT OFF!”

But Matteo kept listening.

“She's been giving Oliver something that isn't prescribed. I found the bottles hidden in her bathroom. And when I confronted her, she told me I'd never live long enough to tell you.”

Matteo's face went white.

The recording continued.

“But Serena isn't working alone.”

A long pause.

Then Isabella began crying.

“The person helping her is someone you trust more than anyone.”

Matteo looked toward Dante.

For the first time that evening, his head of security refused to meet his eyes.

And then the recording spoke one final sentence.

“Matteo, the man who ordered my death is standing beside you every single day.”

Dante's hand slowly moved toward the inside of his jacket.

Matteo saw it.