PUT THAT LITTLE GIRL ON THE FLOOR! SHE DOESN'T BELONG AT MY DINNER TABLE!” THE MAFIA BOSS'S FIANCÉE SCREAMED, YANKING MY FIVE-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER OUT OF A CHAIR IN FRONT OF THIRTY WEALTHY GUESTS. I BEGGED HER TO STOP, BUT SHE ORDERED US BOTH OUT OF THE MANSION.

“She started it.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. I stumbled back, shaking my head.

“No. No, that’s impossible,” I stammered, pulling Sophie closer to my leg. “My mother told me we barely escaped. She said she woke up and the nursery was already burning.”

Adrian held up the piece of paper. It was a faded, handwritten letter. The ink was smudged with age, but the handwriting was unmistakably my mother’s elegant script.

“Read it, Elena,” Adrian said softly, handing it to me.

My hands shook as I took the fragile paper.

My dearest Adrian,

If you are reading this, I am gone, and Elena has finally found her way back to you. I never wanted you to know the truth, but if Carlo is still alive, you must understand what I did to protect you.

I found the photograph of Carlo and the Mayor standing over the old Don’s body. Carlo caught me looking at it. He told me that if I spoke a word, he would kill my children. He said he was going to take over the family, and your father was too weak to stop him.

I knew we couldn't run. Carlo owned the police. He owned the airports. The only way to escape a monster is to make him believe you are already dead.

I poured the gasoline. I struck the match. I set the nursery on fire.

I stopped reading. My vision blurred with tears. The mother I knew—the gentle woman who sang lullabies to my daughter—had intentionally set fire to the home her children slept in.

“She burned me,” Adrian whispered, looking down at the jagged, white scar across his palm. “She set the fire, knowing I would run in to save my baby sister. She knew the burns would make the hospital records look authentic.”

“She swapped the dental records at the morgue with a child who died earlier that night,” Matteo rumbled, stepping closer. “That’s why Carlo believed you were both dead. It was a masterpiece of deception. But why leave this letter? Why confess after twenty years?”

I forced myself to read the rest of the letter.

I couldn't take you with me, Adrian. Carlo would have hunted us to the ends of the earth if the heir survived. I had to leave you with your father. It is the greatest regret of my life. But I didn't leave you defenseless.

The photograph of Carlo wasn't the only thing I stole from his safe. I took the ledger. The Black Book. Every bribe, every murder, every politician Carlo bought is recorded inside. I hid it where Carlo would never dare to look.

Seek the angel with the broken wing.

Forever your mother, Lucia.

I lowered the letter.

“The angel with the broken wing,” I repeated. “What does that mean?”

Adrian’s jaw tightened. He folded the letter and put it in his pocket. “It means my mother was a genius.”

“You know where it is?” Matteo asked.

“I know exactly where it is,” Adrian said. “But we can't go there tonight. The sun is coming up, and Carlo will have men blanketing the city.”

Adrian picked up Sophie, who was rubbing her sleepy eyes. “We need a place to hide for the day. Somewhere Carlo doesn't know exists.”

“I have a place,” Matteo said gruffly. “An old safehouse in the meatpacking district. Nobody’s used it in a decade.”

We drove through the early morning streets, the neon signs of Chicago reflecting in the puddles from a brief rainstorm.

Matteo’s safehouse was a dusty, cramped apartment above an abandoned butcher shop. It smelled like old copper and dust.

I laid Sophie on a faded floral couch, covering her with my mother’s heavy coat. She fell asleep instantly.

I walked into the small kitchen. Adrian was leaning against the counter, staring at his scarred hand.

“She left me behind,” Adrian whispered, his voice cracking. “She saved you, but she left me in a house with a murderer.”

I stepped toward him. For the first time in my life, I felt the pull of a sibling bond. I reached out and gently placed my hand over his scarred palm.

“She didn't leave you because she didn't love you, Adrian,” I said softly. “She left you because you were the heir. Carlo would never stop looking for you. If she took you, we all would have died. She sacrificed her own son to save him.”

Adrian closed his eyes. A single tear slipped down his cheek. “I spent twenty years hating her memory because I thought she was careless with the candles.”

“She gave up everything,” I said. “And now she’s given us the weapon to destroy Carlo.”

Suddenly, the burner phone Matteo had left on the table buzzed violently.

Adrian picked it up. He answered on speaker.

“Hello, nephew.”

Carlo’s voice slithered through the tiny speaker.

Adrian froze. “How did you get this number?”

“I have the Mayor’s surveillance grid at my disposal,” Carlo chuckled. “But that doesn't matter. I’m calling to tell you that your little maid lied to me. I sent men to the bank. There is no safety deposit box under her mother’s name.”

“Then you know you’re out of time,” Adrian bluffed flawlessly. “The Commission will have the proof by noon.”

“Oh, I don't think so,” Carlo said smoothly. “Because Vanessa remembered something very interesting about your new sister. She remembered that the maid didn't just come to work at the mansion alone every day.”

My blood turned entirely to ice.

“She told me about the little girl’s babysitter,” Carlo continued. “Mrs. Higgins, I believe? The sweet old lady who lives down the street from the servant quarters?”

A strangled cry escaped my throat. Mrs. Higgins. The woman who had watched Sophie when I worked late shifts. She was like a grandmother to us.

“I have Mrs. Higgins sitting right in front of me,” Carlo said, the smile evident in his voice. “She’s very frightened, Adrian. And she tells me that Elena kept a secondary bag of documents hidden under the floorboards of her apartment. Just in case.”

“Don't touch her!” I screamed at the phone.

“Bring me the ledger, Elena,” Carlo ordered. “The real one. Bring it to the old steel mill on the river at midnight. Come alone. If Adrian comes with you, or if you bring Matteo, the old woman burns.”

The line went dead.

I collapsed against the counter, sobbing into my hands.

“He has her,” I cried. “He’s going to kill her because of me.”

Adrian grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to look at him. His eyes were burning with a terrifying, absolute resolve.

“He’s not killing anyone,” Adrian swore. “We are going to get the ledger. And tonight, Uncle Carlo dies.”

He turned to Matteo.

“We need weapons. And we need to go to the cemetery.”

I looked up, confused. “The cemetery? Why?”