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.

“Drop the gun, big guy,” the voice hissed behind me. “Or I blow my sister’s brains out.”

Marcus froze, his gun still raised but his eyes locked on me in horror. He slowly lowered the weapon, setting it on the scuffed hardwood floor, and kicked it away.

“Slide it over,” the woman commanded.

I couldn’t breathe. The cold steel pressed against the base of my skull was paralyzing, but the voice—that familiar, slightly raspy tone I hadn’t heard in ten years—shattered me completely.

“Chloe?” I whispered, tears immediately spilling over my eyelashes.

The gun barrel pulled back.

“Turn around, Claire,” she said softly.

I turned slowly.

Standing before me was a mirror image of myself, but aged by a decade of hard living. Chloe wore a black leather jacket, her hair cut shorter than mine, her eyes lined with heavy makeup. But she looked exhausted. The fierce, untouchable sister I remembered was gone, replaced by someone brittle and hunted.

“You’re alive,” I choked out, covering my mouth as a sob tore through my chest. “You’ve been alive this whole time. Why? Why didn't you come home?”

Chloe’s expression flickered with a pain so deep it made her lower the gun slightly.

“Because if I came home, they would have killed you too,” she said bitterly.

“Who?” Marcus demanded, stepping slightly closer.

Chloe instantly raised the gun back up, pointing it squarely at Marcus’s chest. “Stay back. I don't want to shoot you, Moretti dog, but I will.”

“Chloe, please,” I begged, reaching out a trembling hand. “Talk to me. Daniel said you were helping him steal the construction contract. He said you signed a two-million-dollar Rossi ledger in my name.”

Chloe let out a dark, humorless laugh.

“Daniel is a parasite,” she spat, pacing backward toward a small wooden desk by the window. “He didn't find me to help him. I found him. I’ve been using him to get close to the Morettis.”

I stared at her, completely lost. “Why do you care about the Morettis?”

Chloe looked at me, her identical eyes flashing with a mix of pity and anger.

“Because of Mom, Claire,” she said softly.

My heart skipped a beat. “Mom died in a car crash.”

“Mom was run off the road by Carlo Vane,” Chloe corrected, her voice trembling with a decade of repressed rage. “She worked as a bookkeeper for the Rossi family. She found out they were skimming from the top, and she was going to take the proof to Teresa Moretti in exchange for our protection. They killed her before she could make the drop.”

The room spun. My entire life, the tragedy that had defined my childhood—it was all a lie.

“I found her hidden files when we were eighteen,” Chloe continued, tears finally welling in her eyes. “I knew Vane was watching us. I faked the boating accident so I could go underground and finish what Mom started. I’ve spent ten years infiltrating the Rossi syndicate.”

She gestured with the gun toward the wall of photographs.

“I thought you were safe playing house with Daniel,” she said, her voice cracking. “But then I saw him at one of Vane’s underground poker games. I realized he was pawning Mom’s jewelry to pay his debts. He was bleeding you dry.”

“So you slept with him?” I asked, looking at the photo of them kissing. The betrayal still stung, even amidst the chaos.

Chloe sneered in disgust. “I played him. I let him think he was manipulating me. I signed the ledger in your name because I knew it would force Luca Moretti to get involved. I needed Luca’s power to finally crush Carlo Vane.”

She reached onto the desk and picked up a heavy, black leather book.

The original Rossi ledger.

“This is it,” Chloe said, tapping the cover with her gun. “This has every dirty transaction Vane has made for the last decade. It proves he’s been stealing from his own bosses, the Rossi dons.”

“Give it to me,” I said, taking a step forward. “Luca will protect us. Both of us. You don't have to hide anymore.”

Chloe shook her head, backing toward the fire escape window.

“I can't trust a Moretti,” she said bitterly. “Teresa knew Mom was in danger ten years ago and did nothing. I’m taking this to the feds.”

“Chloe, wait!” I pleaded.

Suddenly, the front door of the apartment exploded inward, splintering off its hinges.

Three men in dark suits burst into the room, brandishing automatic weapons.

Carlo Vane’s men.

Marcus roared, diving across the floor to grab his discarded pistol. A deafening exchange of gunfire erupted in the tiny apartment.

I screamed, dropping to the floor and covering my ears.

Plaster rained down on me as bullets chewed through the walls. I crawled toward the desk, desperately looking for my sister.

“Chloe!” I screamed over the gunfire.

I found her slumped against the radiator beneath the window, clutching her stomach. Blood was seeping rapidly through her fingers, staining her leather jacket a deep, sickening red.

“Claire,” she gasped, her face pale.

I crawled to her, ripping off my sweater and pressing it frantically against her wound. “Hold on! Marcus, call an ambulance!”

Marcus was crouched behind the sofa, firing controlled shots toward the hallway. Two of the gunmen were down, but a third was laying down heavy suppression fire from the corridor.

Chloe grabbed my wrist with surprising strength. Her hand was freezing.

She forced the black leather ledger into my chest.

“Take it,” she coughed, blood bubbling on her lips. “Daniel… Daniel is bringing Vane to the Moretti estate tonight. They’re using the dinner chaos to raid Luca’s vault.”

I stared at her in horror. The entire dinner, the accusations, Teresa’s collapse—it was all a distraction. Daniel had orchestrated the whole thing to clear the house so the Rossis could rob the Morettis blind.

“I’m not leaving you!” I cried, pressing harder on her wound.

Chloe smiled, a weak, heartbreaking smile that made her look like the teenager I had lost ten years ago.

She reached up and unclasped a silver pendant from her neck. She pressed it into my palm.

“Tell Mom I finished the job,” Chloe whispered.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and her hand went completely limp.

“No!” I screamed, shaking her shoulders. “Chloe, wake up! Please!”

But she didn't move.

Suddenly, Marcus grabbed me by the back of my shirt and hauled me to my feet. The third gunman was retreating down the stairs.

“We have to move, Claire!” Marcus yelled, pulling me toward the door. “Now!”

I clutched the ledger and the silver pendant to my chest, sobbing uncontrollably as Marcus dragged me out of the apartment, leaving my sister’s body behind.

We threw ourselves into the armored SUV. Marcus slammed on the gas, tearing away from the curb.

My phone vibrated violently in my pocket.