MY EX-HUSBAND PULLED MY CHAIR AWAY AT THE MAFIA BOSS’S DINNER AND TOLD EVERYONE I WAS “MENTALLY UNSTABLE”—BUT WHEN LUCA MORETTI ASKED HIS MOTHER ONE QUESTION, MY EX STOPPED SMILING.

“Daniel didn’t forge her signature, Luca. He didn’t forge it.”

Teresa’s words hung in the air, heavier than the silence that followed.

Then her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed completely against Luca’s chest.

Chaos erupted.

Luca lifted his mother into his arms like she weighed nothing, shouting orders at his security detail. I stayed right beside him, holding Teresa’s hand, feeling her faint, erratic pulse as we rushed toward the waiting SUV.

“Claire, stay here,” Luca ordered as he placed his mother in the back seat.

“I’m coming with you,” I insisted, refusing to let go of her hand. “I know her medical history. I know her medications. Let me help.”

Luca looked at me, his dark eyes searching my face for a fraction of a second before he nodded sharply. “Get in.”

The ride to Chicago General was a blur of flashing lights and screeching tires. We bypassed the waiting room entirely; the Moretti name opened doors before we even knocked. Doctors swarmed Teresa, pulling her behind heavy double doors into the emergency bay.

I stood in the sterile white hallway, my hands covered in Teresa’s cold sweat, shaking uncontrollably.

Luca stood a few feet away. He hadn't said a word in twenty minutes. He was staring at the wooden rosary still clutched in his fist.

I took a shaky breath and approached him.

“Luca,” I said softly.

He didn’t look up. “She’s having a myocardial infarction. A stress-induced heart attack.”

“She’s strong,” I said, my voice cracking. “She survived the hip surgery. She’ll survive this.”

Finally, Luca turned to me. The raw vulnerability in his eyes broke my heart. The ruthless mafia boss was gone; in his place was just a terrified son.

“What did she mean, Claire?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion. “She said Daniel didn't forge your signature. How is that possible? I know you didn't sign a mob ledger.”

“I don't know,” I whispered, hugging myself. “I swear to you, Luca. I don't know anything about the Rossi family. I just scrubbed floors. I just wanted to survive.”

Luca stepped closer. Before I realized what he was doing, he reached out and gently wrapped his arms around me.

I froze for a second, then melted into his chest. He smelled like expensive cologne and rain. For the first time in years, I felt entirely safe.

“I believe you,” Luca murmured into my hair. “I will protect you, Claire. Nobody is touching you. Not Daniel. Not the Rossis. You belong with us.”

The words you belong with us sent a warm shiver down my spine.

Suddenly, Marcus, the head of security, marched down the hallway. His face was grim.

Luca pulled back slightly, instantly slipping back into boss mode. “What is it? Did you lock down the estate?”

“Yes, boss,” Marcus said, glancing nervously at me. “Daniel is locked in the wine cellar under guard. The guests have been escorted out. But we found something in Claire’s room.”

My stomach dropped. “My room?”

Marcus nodded. He held up a clear plastic evidence bag.

Inside the bag was a navy blue wool coat.

I gasped.

“That’s mine,” I said, stepping forward. “But I gave that away months ago.”

“To who?” Luca demanded.

“To Sarah,” I answered, my mind racing. “She’s a junior maid. She was freezing waiting for the bus last winter, so I gave her my old coat. Why was it in my room?”

“It was laid out on your bed,” Marcus explained grimly. “And we found this inside the left pocket.”

Marcus flipped the bag over.

Pressed against the plastic was an old, faded Amtrak train ticket.

The destination printed on it was Denver, Colorado. The date was from four years ago.

All the air left my lungs. I stumbled backward, hitting the hospital wall.

“Claire?” Luca asked, stepping toward me, his brow furrowed in concern. “What does this mean?”

“Four years ago,” I whispered, tears spilling hot and fast down my cheeks. “Before Daniel and I got married, he got violent for the first time. I bought a train ticket to Denver to run away.”

I looked at Luca, absolute terror gripping me.

“He caught me at the station,” I sobbed. “He ripped the ticket out of my hand and dragged me home. He told me if I ever tried to leave him again, he would kill me.”

Luca’s expression turned utterly lethal.

“Daniel kept the ticket,” I cried, pointing at the bag. “He put it in my room tonight. He’s telling me there’s nowhere I can run. He has eyes inside your house, Luca.”

Luca stared at the ticket, then turned to Marcus. The fury radiating from him was terrifying.

“Find the maid named Sarah,” Luca ordered, his voice echoing coldly down the hospital corridor. “Bring her to the cellar. And tell the guards to pull the cameras from the staff quarters.”

“Boss,” Marcus hesitated. “Sarah didn't report for her shift tonight. She’s missing.”

Luca’s jaw clenched. He looked at me, then back at Marcus.

“She isn't missing,” a new voice echoed from the end of the hall.

We all turned.

Walking toward us was an older man in a sharply tailored suit, flanked by two massive bodyguards. It was Rebecca’s father, Richard.

But he wasn't looking at Luca. He was looking at me.

He held up a brown manila folder.

“Sarah didn't put that coat on your bed, Claire,” Richard said, his voice trembling with anger. “Daniel didn't either. I know who put it there, because I know who really signed that two-million-dollar ledger.”

He threw the folder onto the floor at my feet.

“Open it,” Richard commanded.

I fell to my knees with shaking hands and opened the file.

Inside was a photograph of a woman signing a document. She looked exactly like me. She had my hair, my profile, my posture.

But she wasn't me.

I stared at the photograph, the breath completely knocked out of my body.

“Who is that?” Luca asked, kneeling beside me.