SHE ABANDONED THIS FAMILY FIFTEEN YEARS AGO. DON'T YOU DARE OFFER HER A SEAT!” THE MAFIA BOSS'S AUNT HUMILIATED HIS 25-YEAR-OLD MAID FOR HELPING A POORLY DRESSED WOMAN AT HIS BIRTHDAY DINNER—BUT WHEN LUCA MORETTI RECOGNIZED THE WOMAN STANDING BEHIND HIS MAID, HE ASKED ONE QUESTION THAT MADE HIS AUNT DROP HER CHAMPAGNE GLASS

The sound of shattering crystal echoed like a gunshot.

Celia stared at the broken glass, then at me. The aristocratic mask had entirely melted away, leaving only raw, desperate panic.

"She's lying," Celia hissed, pointing a manicured finger at me. "The maid is lying for attention! Luca, throw her out!"

Luca didn't even blink. He reached into his tailored jacket, pulled out his phone, and dialed a number.

"Rossi," Luca said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "Bring the cars to the front. We are taking a trip to the South Side clinic. And lock down the estate. Nobody leaves."

He hung up and looked at his aunt.

"If you try to walk out that door, Celia, my men will restrain you," Luca promised.

Anna was trembling so hard she could barely stand. I gently guided Grace toward her. The thirteen-year-old girl hesitated for a fraction of a second before throwing her arms around the woman in the faded green dress. Anna collapsed to her knees, burying her face in her daughter's dark curls, sobbing uncontrollably.

I felt a heavy lump in my throat. I thought of my own mother, struggling to pay the bills, and realized I would scrub a thousand floors to protect her. Anna had lost thirteen years.

Ten minutes later, I was sitting in the back of an armored SUV.

I hadn't expected to come. But Grace had grabbed my hand in the foyer and refused to let go. She was terrified of her aunt, overwhelmed by her mother, and somehow, the maid who had defended her felt like her only anchor. Luca had nodded once, signaling me to get in the car.

Luca sat in the passenger seat. Anna and Grace sat beside me in the back. Celia was in the SUV behind us, flanked by two massive security guards.

The drive to the South Side was agonizingly tense. The glittering high-rises of downtown Chicago faded into brick storefronts and flickering streetlights.

We pulled up to the clinic. It was a rundown building squeezed between a laundromat and a boarded-up diner.

Luca's security chief, Rossi, kicked the clinic door open.

The waiting room was empty, smelling of cheap bleach and old magazines. A terrified receptionist pointed toward the back office.

Luca walked down the narrow hallway, kicking the peeling wooden door open.

Dr. Thomas Evans was an older man, heavily balding, with hands that shook slightly as he poured a cup of cheap coffee. When he looked up and saw Luca Moretti standing in his doorway, he dropped the mug.

"Mr. Moretti," the doctor whispered, his face draining of color.

Luca stepped into the cramped office. "Thirteen years ago, my sister gave birth at St. Jude's Hospital. You signed the birth certificate. And then you signed a death certificate for the mother."

Dr. Evans backed up until he hit his filing cabinet. He looked past Luca and saw Anna standing in the hallway.

"She's alive," the doctor breathed, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Thank God."

"Why did you do it?" Luca demanded, slamming his hand onto the desk. "Why did you help my aunt steal a child?"

"I didn't help her steal a child!" the doctor cried out, his voice cracking. "I helped her save the child's life!"

Luca frowned. "From who?"

"From your father," Dr. Evans said.

The hallway went dead silent. Luca's father, Vincenzo Moretti, had been a ruthless boss who ruled Chicago with an iron fist until his death ten years ago.

Dr. Evans opened his bottom drawer, his hands shaking violently. He pulled out a small, locked metal cash box.

"Your father found out who Anna was sleeping with," the doctor explained, unlocking the box. "He came to the hospital the night Grace was born. He told me to inject Anna with a lethal dose of morphine, and to leave the baby in an incubator with the oxygen turned off."

Anna gasped, clutching Grace tighter.

"Celia found out," the doctor continued, pulling out a stack of yellowed, original hospital records. "She intercepted him. She paid me half a million dollars to forge Anna's death certificate so your father wouldn't hunt her down. But Celia said Anna couldn't keep the baby. She said the only way to protect Grace from Vincenzo was to raise her under Celia's name, where your father wouldn't dare touch her."

We stared at the doctor in stunned disbelief.

Celia hadn't stolen Grace out of malice. She had stolen Grace to save both mother and child from being murdered by the patriarch of the family.

I looked back at the hallway. Celia was standing there between the guards, tears streaming down her perfectly powdered face.

"I was trying to keep you both alive," Celia whispered to Anna.

I felt a wave of confusion. If Celia was the hero, why did she treat Anna so cruelly tonight? Why did she continue the lie for ten years after Vincenzo died?

Then, Dr. Evans pulled one last item out of the metal box.

It was a heavy, ornate silver pocket watch.

"Your father didn't leave empty-handed that night," Dr. Evans said softly, handing the watch to Luca. "He took this off the father's dead body before he came to the hospital. He left it as a warning."

Luca looked down at the watch. His eyes widened in absolute horror.

"This belongs to Marco Romano," Luca whispered.

Anna closed her eyes.

"Marco Romano," Luca said, his voice rising in panic. "Anna... is Grace the daughter of the Romano syndicate?"

Anna nodded weakly. "Yes."

"But Marco Romano isn't dead," Luca said, staring at the pocket watch. "He took over the family five years ago."