HE THOUGHT THIS WAS A CORPORATE EVENT

The name echoed against the high ceilings of the living room.

Leo DeLuca.

Caroline stumbled backward until her spine hit the mahogany dining table. The crystal glasses rattled.

Mark, still standing awkwardly in his overcoat, looked entirely lost. “Leo is my son. Our son. Why does that paper say DeLuca?”

Vincent ignored him. His dark eyes were locked onto Caroline.

“I’ll ask you one more time,” Vincent said, his voice dropping into a register that made the hair on my arms stand up. “Who is Leo DeLuca?”

“It’s a mistake,” Caroline stammered, gripping the edge of the table. “A clerical error at the hospital. I swear to you, Vincent.”

Helen let out a dry, rattling cough from her wheelchair.

“Don’t lie to him, Caroline,” the older woman said softly. “You’ve been draining my private account to pay for his private school for two years. Under the threat that I would never see my grandson if I didn’t comply.”

The guests began to murmur. Vincent’s aunt put a hand over her mouth.

Vincent looked down at his mother. The fierce protector in his eyes warred with absolute shock. “Grandson? Mom, what are you talking about?”

“Your brother didn’t die in a car accident, Vincent,” Helen said. Her hands shook as she adjusted her pearl necklace. “He died in a hotel room in Boston. With her.”

I watched the color drain from Vincent’s face. He knew his older brother, Michael, had died tragically five years ago. It was the reason Vincent had taken over the family 'business.'

“Caroline told me she was pregnant with Michael’s child shortly after the funeral,” Helen continued, her voice gaining strength. “She married this poor man—” she gestured to Mark “—to give the boy a quiet life. But she never stopped asking me for money.”

Vincent turned slowly back to Caroline. The energy in the room had shifted from uncomfortable family drama to something deeply dangerous.

“You were with Michael,” Vincent stated.

“I can explain,” Caroline pleaded, tears finally spilling over her carefully powdered cheeks. “Michael left us nothing. I had to survive. I came to you because you owed us—”

“I didn’t even know you existed until a year ago,” Vincent cut her off.

“And I was going to tell you!” Caroline cried. “But then you proposed. And I realized… Leo could have everything. He could be the heir.”

Mark dropped the lease agreement on the floor. “You told me his name was Leo Mercer. You told me the father was a bartender.” He backed away toward the door. “You’re insane, Care. You’re actually insane.”

“Mark, wait!” Caroline reached for him.

But Mark was already turning around. As he grabbed the brass handle of the front door, he pulled it open.

Standing on the front step was a little boy.

He was no older than six or seven. He wore a neat private school blazer, his dark hair parted carefully to the side. He was holding the hand of one of Vincent’s security men from the front gate.

“Found him wandering near the outer gates, boss,” the guard said, gently guiding the boy inside. “Said his mom told him to wait in the car, but he got cold.”

The boy looked around the grand foyer, his eyes widening at the crowd of people. Then his gaze landed on Vincent.

My breath caught in my throat.

The boy had Vincent’s exact eyes. The dark, heavy-lidded stare of the DeLuca family.

“Mom?” the boy asked, looking at Caroline. “Are we moving into the big house today?”

Caroline didn’t answer. She was staring at the boy’s wrist.

I looked too.

Hanging loosely from the child’s small wrist was a heavy, gold Rolex watch.

Vincent stepped forward and knelt in front of the boy. He gently took the child’s wrist and examined the watch. I could see the inscription on the back from where I stood.

To Michael. Blood is forever.

“Where did you get this, Leo?” Vincent asked quietly.

The boy looked nervously at Caroline, then back to Vincent.