My mafia boss husband's mistress had destroyed my marriage. My pregnant sister had threatened my son. And now, in the darkness of our mansion, a woman was telling me that my mother was still alive.

“Step away from him, Evelyn,” Dominic ordered, stepping over the splintered remains of the front door.

His expensive suit was ruined, covered in dirt and Vincent’s blood. His eyes, usually so charming and calm at family dinners, were wild and frantic.

I didn’t move. I kept my hands pressed firmly against Vincent’s bleeding shoulder.

“Is he dead?” Dominic asked, nudging Vincent’s leg with the barrel of his rifle.

“He’s bleeding out,” I spat, tears of pure hatred burning my cheeks. “You killed him, Dominic. You killed the man who trusted you.”

Dominic let out a breathless, manic laugh.

“Trusted me? Vincent used me to do his dirty work for ten years while he played the honorable boss. And your father used me as a pawn to keep the Morettis in line.”

He looked at my mother, who was trembling violently by the couch.

“Hello, stepmother,” Dominic sneered. “Long time no see.”

“Dominic, please,” my mother begged, her hands raised. “Let Evelyn go. Take the documents. Just let my daughter go.”

“I don’t want the documents,” Dominic snapped. “Claire wants the documents. Claire wants the syndicate. I just want out.”

He walked toward us, his boots crunching on the broken glass of Rose’s dropped gun.

“Your father is insane, Evelyn,” Dominic said, his voice dropping into a terrified whisper. “He found out Claire double-crossed him. He’s burning down the entire city to find the boy.”

“Where is Anthony?” I screamed, stepping between him and my unconscious husband.

“Claire has him at the lake cabin,” Dominic said. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a heavy set of car keys. “She’s using the kid as leverage against the Commission. But I’m not sticking around for the slaughter.”

He pointed the rifle directly at my mother’s chest.

“I need insurance,” Dominic said coldly. “Your father loves this woman more than he loves his own empire. If I have her, he won’t send his hitmen after me.”

“No!” I lunged forward.

Dominic backhanded me across the face with the heavy stock of the rifle.

The impact sent me crashing to the floor. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, and my vision swam.

“Evelyn!” my mother screamed.

She didn’t run. She didn’t beg.

Instead, my mother reached behind her neck and unclasped the vintage diamond pendant she had worn every day of her life.

Vintage diamond pendant necklace. Nguồn: TorriPhoto / Getty Images

“Take it,” my mother said, dropping the necklace into my lap as I struggled to sit up.

“Mom, what are you doing?” I choked out, wiping the blood from my mouth.

“Your father gave me that on our wedding day,” she whispered, her eyes filled with a fierce, terrifying resolve. “It’s the key, Evelyn. To everything.”

She turned to Dominic, her chin held high.

“I’ll go with you, Dominic,” she said calmly. “But if you touch my daughter again, I swear to God I will throw myself out of the moving car, and you will have nothing to bargain with.”

Dominic hesitated, his eyes darting between me, Vincent’s unconscious body, and my mother.

“Fine,” he growled. “Let’s go.”

He grabbed her arm and dragged her out into the dark night.

I scrambled to the door, watching the taillights of his SUV tear away down the quiet suburban street.

I was entirely alone.

My son was kidnapped by my twisted sister. My mother was a hostage to my half-brother. And my husband was bleeding to death on the living room floor.

I looked down at the diamond pendant resting in my bloody palm.

I turned it over.

The back of the silver setting had a tiny seam. I dug my thumbnail into it, prying it open.

Inside wasn’t a diamond.

It was a micro-SD card.

“Evie…”

I spun around.

Vincent was awake. His eyes were glazed over with pain, but he was desperately trying to push himself up with his good arm.

“Vincent, don’t move!” I rushed to his side.

“The necklace,” he coughed, his breath rattling in his chest. “What’s on it?”

“I don’t know,” I sobbed, holding it up.

Vincent grabbed my hand, his grip surprisingly strong.

“It’s the ledger,” he whispered. “Your father’s private accounts. The politicians he owns. The judges he bought. It’s the only thing that can destroy him.”

He looked up at me, his dark eyes filled with a profound, breaking sorrow.

“Leave me, Evelyn.”

“No,” I cried, shaking my head. “I’m calling an ambulance.”

“If you call an ambulance, the cops will arrest me,” he said. “And your father’s men will kill me in a hospital bed before morning.”

He reached out, his bloody fingers gently touching my bruised cheek.

“I failed you,” Vincent whispered. “I tried to play the game to protect you, but I just broke your heart instead. Please… let me do one thing right.”

He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and pressed it into my hand.

“Go to the cabin,” Vincent ordered, his voice suddenly filled with the authority of the man who ruled Chicago. “Save our son. And when you have him… plug that card into a computer and send the files to the FBI.”

“I can’t leave you to die!” I screamed.

Vincent offered a sad, bloody smile.

“I’m already dead, Evie.”

He closed his eyes, his breathing slowing to a shallow rasp.

I sat there for ten agonizing seconds, the weight of the diamond necklace pressing into my palm.

I looked at the man I had loved for seven years. The man who had broken me, and yet, had taken a bullet for our child.

I kissed his forehead.

Then, I stood up, grabbed his dropped pistol from the floor, and ran out into the night.

Forty minutes later, I parked Vincent’s hidden sedan deep in the woods surrounding the old Moretti family cabin.

The rain had started to fall, heavy and cold.

I crept through the trees, the heavy pistol shaking in my grip.

The cabin was brightly lit.