**MY DAUGHTER TURNED SEVEN TODAY.s I COULDN'T AFFORD A BIRTHDAY CAKE, SO I SAVED HER ONE SLICE FROM THE MAFIA BOSS'S ENGAGEMENT DINNER. HIS FIANCÉE OPENED MY LUNCHBOX IN FRONT OF THIRTY GUESTS AND CALLED ME A THIEF—BUT WHEN LUCA SAW SEVEN LITTLE CANDLES WRAPPED IN A NAPKIN, HE SLOWLY PUT DOWN HIS GLASS.**

The study was so silent I could hear the blood rushing in my ears.

“Luca, it’s me.”

I stared at the phone in Luca’s hand. My mind violently rejected what I had just heard, yet my heart hammered against my ribs with a desperate, terrifying hope.

“Matteo?” Luca breathed, his voice cracking, shedding every ounce of the ruthless Don persona.

“They have me, Luca,” Matteo gasped, his voice raspy, laced with pain. “Don’t trust Arthur. He set the fire in the car. He...”

There was a loud, sickening thud over the speaker, followed by a groan of agony from my husband.

“Mark!” I screamed, lunging toward the phone.

The line went silent for a terrifying second before Victor Volkov’s dark chuckle returned.

“Ah, the little housemaid is there too,” Victor purred. “How touching. A family reunion.”

“If you touch him again, Victor, I will wipe your entire bloodline off the face of the earth,” Luca roared, his face turning a lethal shade of pale.

“You won’t do anything, Don Moretti,” Victor sneered. “Because if you declare war on me, the man you thought was dead for five years will actually die tonight. In front of his wife.”

I grabbed Luca’s arm, tears streaming down my face. “Please,” I begged the phone. “Please don’t hurt him. Let him go.”

“He’s not yours to negotiate for, little mouse,” Victor mocked.

“What do you want, Victor?” Luca demanded, cutting through my panic with freezing authority.

“Arthur Bellini,” Victor stated bluntly. “He knows too much. He’s a loose end. Deliver Arthur to me at the old Navy Pier warehouse in one hour. Come alone. Hand him over, and I will give you back your brother.”

“And if I refuse?” Luca asked.

“Then I send Matteo to you in pieces,” Victor replied. “And tomorrow, I send a hit squad to finish the job on the housemaid and the little girl.”

The line went dead.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

I collapsed into the heavy leather chair Arthur had occupied moments earlier, burying my face in my hands. He was alive. For four years, I had mourned a grave that was empty. I had raised our daughter alone, believing he had abandoned us.

He hadn’t run. He had been a prisoner of the Russian mob.

Luca stood perfectly still, staring at the dead phone.

Then, he moved.

He walked to the mahogany desk, opened the bottom drawer, and pulled out a heavy black Glock 19. He checked the magazine, slammed it home, and racked the slide with a sharp, metallic clack.

He didn’t look like a man going to a negotiation. He looked like a man going to war.

“Luca, wait,” I said, jumping to my feet. “You can’t just hand Arthur over to them! Arthur is the only proof you have that Victor orchestrated the hit in the first place!”

“I don’t need proof anymore, Claire,” Luca said coldly, shoving the gun into his shoulder holster. “I have Matteo’s voice. Victor lied to my father. He stole our money. He kept my brother in a cage for five years. I’m going to end him tonight.”

“But it’s a trap!” I argued, grabbing his arm. “Victor knows you’re the Don now! He doesn’t just want Arthur. He wants you! If you go alone, they’ll kill you both!”

Luca looked down at my hand gripping his sleeve. His dark eyes softened for a fraction of a second.

“If I don’t go, Claire, Matteo dies,” Luca said softly. “He’s my blood. He’s the father of your child. I failed to protect him five years ago. I am not failing him again.”

He gently pulled his arm away and headed for the door.

“Marco!” Luca yelled into the hallway.

The security chief appeared instantly.

“Get Arthur Bellini out of the basement,” Luca ordered. “Put him in the trunk of my car. I’m driving to the Navy Pier alone.”

Marco frowned. “Alone? Boss, that’s suicide.”

“Do it,” Luca snapped, leaving no room for argument.

Marco nodded and hurried away.

Luca turned back to me.

“Stay in the master suite with Lily,” Luca instructed. “The estate is on full lockdown. If I don’t return by sunrise... Marco has instructions to transfer a trust fund into Lily’s name and move you both to Italy. You will be safe.”

Tears spilled over my lashes. I was a housemaid who had just asked for a slice of cake. Now, I was watching the most powerful man in the city walk to his death to save the man I loved.

“Bring him back to us, Luca,” I whispered.

Luca nodded once.

“I promise.”

He turned and walked out of the study.

I rushed upstairs to the master suite. Lily was still sound asleep, her small chest rising and falling peacefully. I sat on the edge of the bed, holding her little hand, praying to a God I hadn’t spoken to in years.

Ten minutes passed. Then twenty.

The silence of the mansion was maddening.

I couldn’t just sit there. If Luca died tonight, Victor would come for us next.

I stood up and began pacing the massive room. As I walked past Luca’s walk-in closet, I noticed the door was slightly ajar.

I pushed it open, looking for anything—a jacket, a blanket, something to keep my hands busy.

On the center island of the closet sat a small, open velvet box.

It was the engagement ring. The one Arthur had given Vanessa. The one Victor had stolen from Matteo.

I picked it up. The diamond was massive, glittering even in the dim light.

I turned it over in my fingers, my heart aching as I thought of Matteo keeping this in his pocket, planning to ask me to marry him.

But as I looked closely at the inside of the gold band, I noticed an engraving.

I squinted, holding it up to the light.

A.M. & E.M. 1982.

Antonio and Elena Moretti. Luca’s parents.

But right below that, scratched hastily into the gold with a sharp object, were three numbers.

4 - 1 - 9.

I frowned. What did that mean? A date? A code?

Suddenly, my bedroom door burst open.

I spun around, dropping the ring onto the island.

Standing in the doorway, panting heavily, was Vanessa Bellini.

Her red satin gown was torn, her makeup smeared, and she looked completely unhinged. In her hand, she held a small, silver revolver aimed directly at me.

“You ruined everything,” Vanessa hissed, her eyes wild with manic fury.

I stepped backward, shielding the view of the bed where Lily slept. “Vanessa, how did you get in here? The estate is on lockdown.”

“I paid a guard,” she sneered, stepping into the room and locking the door behind her. “My father is bankrupt. My engagement is broken. My life is over because of a pathetic little housemaid who wanted a piece of cake.”

She raised the gun, pointing it at my chest.

“Luca took my father to the Russians to die,” Vanessa said, tears of rage spilling down her face. “So I’m going to take something from him.”

She looked past me, spotting the sleeping child on the bed.

A cruel, twisted smile spread across her face.

“I heard Marco talking on the radio,” Vanessa whispered. “I know who she really is, Claire. I know she’s Matteo’s daughter.”

She aimed the revolver at Lily.

“Let’s see how much Luca likes losing another piece of his family.”

Before she could pull the trigger, the numbers engraved inside the ring flashed in my mind.

4 - 1 - 9.