“PUT THAT PEN DOWN! HE DOESN’T EVEN REMEMBER HIS OWN SON!” THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE HUMILIATED HIS 48-YEAR-OLD NURSE FOR HELPING HIS ELDERLY FATHER SIGN THE FAMILY GUESTBOOK—BUT WHEN THE OLD MAN SCRATCHED THREE WORDS ACROSS THE PAGE, DOMINIC ROMANO STOPPED THE MUSIC. “CELESTE… WHAT IS IN THE BLUE BOTTLE?”

“Get down!” Dominic roared.

Despite the bullet in his shoulder, Dominic launched himself across the space between us. He hit me hard, tackling me to the floor just as Arthur fired again.

The bullet shattered the marble tile exactly where I had been kneeling.

Julian pulled his own weapon and returned fire, forcing Arthur to duck back into the dark study.

“Secure the doors! Get the guests down!” Julian yelled to the guards, instantly taking command like he had been raised in the family.

Dominic groaned, rolling off me. His hand was clamped over his shoulder, blood leaking between his fingers.

“Sir,” I gasped, scrambling to my knees. I tore the bottom hem of my uniform apron and pressed it hard against his wound. “Keep pressure on it. Don’t move.”

“I’m fine,” Dominic gritted through his teeth, though his face was pale. He looked at his father. Dr. Harris was kneeling over Salvatore, administering oxygen from a small emergency canister.

“He’s stabilizing,” Dr. Harris said, looking at Dominic. “But we need to get him to a hospital.”

“No hospitals,” Dominic said sharply. “Arthur has cops on his payroll. The moment we leave the estate, we’re exposed.”

Arthur’s voice echoed from the dark study.

“You’re exposed right here, Dominic!” Arthur yelled, the sound bouncing off the high ceilings. “The estate’s security system is offline. My men are coming through the front gates right now.”

Dominic leaned against the wall, pulling me closer so I was shielded by his body.

“Arthur,” Dominic called out, his voice dangerously steady. “You’ve eaten at my table. You know what happens to people who betray this family.”

Arthur laughed. It was a hollow, desperate sound.

“I spent twenty years cleaning up your messes, Dominic! I built the legal shield that keeps you out of prison! But when it came time to name a successor, Salvatore chose you. A brute. A thug in a custom suit.”

I kept my hands pressed firmly against Dominic’s shoulder. His blood was warm and sticky on my fingers. He looked down at me, his dark eyes intense, scanning my face to make sure I wasn’t hurt.

I felt a strange flutter in my chest. He was bleeding, his empire was under attack, and his only concern was whether his nurse had been grazed by a bullet.

“Why did you kill my husband, Arthur?” I shouted, unable to hold the question back anymore.

Silence hung for a moment. Then Arthur’s voice drifted back.

“David was brilliant, Grace. I hired him privately to develop a neuro-stimulant to help Salvatore’s memory after his first stroke. But David realized the formula could be altered. He realized it could mimic dementia if the dosage was wrong.”

Tears blurred my vision. “David would never do that.”

“He didn’t want to,” Arthur admitted coldly. “But I told him if he didn’t synthesize the poison for me, I would make sure your daughter’s car brakes failed on her way to college.”

A cold horror washed over me.

David didn’t betray his morals. He sacrificed himself to protect Lily.

“When David threatened to go to the police anyway,” Arthur continued, “I had to remove him. It was a tragic car accident, Grace. Just like the one that’s going to happen to you tonight.”

Dominic’s jaw clenched so hard I thought his teeth would crack.

“Julian,” Dominic whispered.

Julian slid across the floor, crouching beside us.

“Take Grace and my father through the servant’s tunnel to the safe room,” Dominic ordered. “Take the guards. Hold the line there.”

“What about you?” Julian asked.

“I’m going to kill Arthur,” Dominic said simply.

“No!” I grabbed Dominic’s good arm. “You’re losing too much blood. You’ll go into shock in less than ten minutes if I don’t suture that artery.”

Salvatore weakly pushed Dr. Harris aside. The old man’s hands were shaking, but his eyes were sharp. He reached into the pocket of his velvet smoking jacket and pulled out a small, intricately carved wooden chess piece. The White King.

He pressed it into my blood-stained hand.

“Checkmate,” Salvatore whispered.

I looked at the chess piece. I had played against him twice a week. He always played black. I always played white. But this piece wasn’t from our set. The base was loose.

I twisted the bottom of the wooden king. It unscrewed.

Inside the hollowed-out base was a tiny, rolled-up piece of parchment.

I pulled it out and unrolled it. It was a list of offshore bank account numbers and passcodes.

“What is this?” I asked.

Dominic looked at the paper, his eyes widening.

“It’s Arthur’s embezzlement ledger,” Dominic said. “My father knew. He knew Arthur was stealing from the family accounts. That’s why Arthur had to declare him incompetent.”

Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of the dining room rattled violently.

Arthur’s men had arrived. They were trying to batter the doors down from the hallway.

“Time’s up, Dominic,” Arthur sneered from the study.

Dominic grabbed the white king from my hand. He looked at Julian.