I WAS POURING CHAMPAGNE WHEN LUCA MORETTI’S SISTER TOOK THE MICROPHONE AND SAID TO HIS LATE BROTHER’S WIDO

The ash from the ruined mansion coated my gloves, but my hands were shaking so violently I couldn’t feel the cold.

I stared at the photograph in the locket.

Michael and Siena.

The saintly husband and the treacherous fiancée.

The entire narrative we had just bled for was a lie. Marcus hadn’t killed a man who was trying to save his family. Marcus had killed a man who was preparing to abandon his wife and run away with his brother’s future bride.

“Emma? Did you find something?”

I jumped, slamming the locket shut.

Luca was walking through the charred remains of the study, wearing heavy work boots and a thick coat. He looked exhausted. The last three days had been spent dealing with lawyers, police, and securing Marcus in a federal cell.

He stopped a few feet away, noticing my pale face.

“What is it?” Luca asked, his voice instantly tightening with concern.

I looked down at the lockbox. I could bury it. I could throw it into the dumpster and let Rachel keep the pure memory of the husband who supposedly died protecting her.

But Luca had offered me a place in this family because I was honest.

I swallowed hard and handed him the gold locket.

Luca wiped the soot from his hands and took it. He recognized the jewelry instantly. He had bought it for Siena for her birthday.

He popped the clasp open.

I watched the man’s heart break all over again.

Luca stared at the photo of his dead brother and his imprisoned fiancée. He slowly turned the photo over and read the handwritten promise.

I promise I’ll leave her. Just wait for me.

“When was this taken?” Luca whispered. The deadly calm of the mafia boss was gone. He just sounded like a younger brother who had been entirely fooled.

“The timestamp on the passports in the box is from two years ago, sir,” I said quietly. “Six months before he died.”

Luca dropped the locket into his pocket. He stared at the ruined floorboards.

“Michael wasn’t leaving the business because of the danger,” Luca realized, the awful truth washing over him. “He was leaving Rachel. He was liquidating the offshore accounts to fund a new life with Siena.”

“But… why did Siena stay with you, then?” I asked, confused. “If they loved each other, and Michael was getting the money, why did she betray him to Marcus?”

Luca’s eyes darkened.

“Because Siena doesn’t love anyone,” he said bitterly. “She plays the winning side. If Michael was struggling to get the money out past Marcus, she probably realized Marcus was the safer bet. She helped Marcus kill the man she was sleeping with, just to secure her cut.”

It was monstrous.

“Does Rachel know?” I asked, my heart breaking for the widow who had fought so fiercely to defend her husband’s honor.

“No,” Luca said immediately. “And she never will. Michael was a coward and a cheat. But Rachel is a good woman, and Ethan deserves to keep the hero he thinks his father was.”

He picked up the metal lockbox, passports, and cash, and tossed them into a burning barrel used by the salvage crew.

“Let the dead stay dead, Emma,” Luca said firmly.

He turned to walk away.

But as the heat of the fire curled the edges of the fake passports, I saw something slip out from between the pages of one of the booklets.

It fluttered to the ground, untouched by the flames.

I bent down and picked it up.

It was a small, folded piece of thick stationary.

It was a letter, dated the night before Michael died.

I unfolded it quickly, my eyes scanning the hurried handwriting.

Siena, I know what you are doing. I know you went to Marcus. You thought I was blinded by you, but I’ve been tracking the wire transfers. You are going to help him kill me tomorrow. I’m writing this so when the time comes, I have proof to destroy you both. I’m not running away with you. I’m taking the money, and I’m taking Rachel and Ethan, and I’m letting you and Marcus rot. If I survive tomorrow, you are dead.

I stopped breathing.

Michael hadn’t been fooled by Siena. He knew she was a traitor. He knew the crash was coming.

“Luca!” I called out, running toward him. “Look at this!”

I handed him the letter.

Luca read it twice. His brow furrowed in deep confusion.

“If Michael knew Marcus and Siena were going to sabotage his car,” Luca murmured, “why did he get in the car the next morning?”

It made no sense. If you knew the brakes were cut, you didn’t drive the car.

Unless.

“Unless the brakes weren’t cut,” I whispered.

Luca looked at me, realization dawning in his dark eyes.

“Marcus confessed to taking the watch from the burning car,” Luca said slowly. “But what if Marcus didn't cause the crash? What if he just took credit for it because he arrived after it happened?”

“But Bianca said she gave him the keys to cut the brakes,” I argued.

“Bianca is an idiot who believed whatever Marcus told her,” Luca snapped, his mind racing. “Marcus wanted Michael dead. Siena wanted Michael dead. But Michael knew they were coming for him.”

Luca pulled out his phone and dialed his head of security.

“Get the police file on my brother’s accident,” Luca ordered. “I want the original coroner’s report. Not the one Marcus paid for. The raw data.”

He hung up and looked at me, the terrifying energy of the mafia boss returning in full force.