“HE'S STEALING FOOD FROM OUR GUESTS! SEARCH HIS POCKETS!” THE MAFIA BOSS'S FIANCÉE SCREAMED WHEN SHE CAUGHT AN 82-YEAR-OLD MAN HIDING A SLICE OF WEDDING CAKE IN HIS JACKET—BUT WHEN HIS 27-YEAR-OLD MAID KNELT TO WIPE THE FROSTING FROM HIS TREMBLING HANDS, THE OLD MAN BEGAN CRYING. “PLEASE, SWEETHEART

"Henry!"

I dropped to my knees beside the old man, pressing two fingers to his neck. His pulse was weak, but steady. A nasty purple bruise was already forming on his temple where Evelyn must have struck him.

Matteo rushed into the room, taking in the empty bed and the shattered window.

"She took June down the fire escape," Matteo said, his voice deadly calm. "Dante! Lock down the perimeter. Nobody gets off this property."

I looked at the floor. The fake pearl necklace June wore every single day had snapped. The small white beads were scattered across the carpet, leading out onto the wrought-iron balcony.

"She's leaving a trail," I realized. "June is dropping them on purpose."

Matteo and I climbed out the window and hurried down the metal stairs into the freezing rain.

The fire from the cottage was dying down, but the smoke still stung our eyes.

I kept my flashlight pointed at the mud.

"There," I pointed. Another pearl. And another.

The trail led away from the burning cottage, wrapping around the massive stone foundation of the main house.

"She's heading for the old wine cellar," Matteo realized. "It's the only place with a heavy enough door to barricade from the inside."

We sprinted toward the heavy iron doors built into the hillside.

They were shut tight.

Matteo grabbed the handle and yanked. It was locked from the inside.

"Evelyn!" Matteo roared, banging his fists against the iron. "Open this door!"

"Go away, Matteo!" Evelyn's voice echoed through the thick metal, frantic and shrill. "If you try to break in, I'll inject her right now!"

My stomach plummeted. She really was going to kill June.

"Evelyn, listen to me," Matteo tried to negotiate, forcing his voice to remain steady. "You don't want to do this. You're holding a woman with Alzheimer's. She can't hurt you. Let her go."

A hysterical laugh drifted through the door.

"She can't hurt me?" Evelyn shrieked. "She's the only one who CAN hurt me!"

Matteo frowned, looking at me in confusion. "What is she talking about?"

"She saw me, Matteo!" Evelyn screamed from inside. "Three years ago! When your father was on his deathbed!"

Matteo froze.

"I couldn't wait for him to die naturally," Evelyn continued, her voice echoing off the stone walls. "My family needed the Russo money immediately. So I went into his room... and I unplugged his oxygen machine."

The flashlight slipped from my hand, rolling into the mud.

"I watched him suffocate," Evelyn said proudly. "But when I turned around to leave... that old bat was standing in the doorway."

Matteo stepped back from the door, his face completely drained of color.

His father hadn't succumbed to his illness. Evelyn murdered him.

"I thought nobody would ever believe her," Evelyn sneered. "She already had dementia. But then she started having moments of clarity. She told Henry she saw a blonde woman hurting you, Matteo. That's why I had to get rid of them. And now, I'm going to finish the job."

"Abigail," Matteo whispered, his voice trembling with a rage so deep it terrified me. "Stand back."

Matteo didn't try the handle again. He didn't yell.

He took three steps back in the mud, raised his heavy boot, and kicked the locking mechanism of the old iron door with the force of a freight train.

The rusted iron groaned.

He kicked it again. The deadbolt snapped.

The door swung open, revealing the damp, dimly lit cellar.

Evelyn was standing in the center of the room. She had one arm wrapped tightly around June’s frail neck, and in her other hand, she held a large medical syringe filled with clear liquid.

June looked terrified, her eyes wide and confused.

"I said stay back!" Evelyn screamed, pressing the needle against June’s neck.

Matteo raised his gun, aiming directly at Evelyn's head.

"Drop it," Matteo commanded. "Or I put a bullet between your eyes."

Evelyn hesitated. She looked at the gun, then at Matteo’s eyes. She knew he wasn't bluffing.

But instead of dropping the syringe, Evelyn smirked.

She threw the syringe onto the stone floor, shattering it.

"Fine," she spat. "I don't need the old lady."

Before we could react, Evelyn reached behind her back and pulled out a small, silver pistol.

But she didn't point it at Matteo.

She pointed it directly at my chest.

"Like mother, like daughter," Evelyn sneered, pulling the hammer back. "Say goodbye to your precious maid, Matteo."