SHE'S LYING, LUCA! THAT OLD WOMAN STOLE FROM ME, AND YOUR MAID IS HELPING HER COVER IT UP!” THE MAFIA BOSS'S FIANCÉE HUMILIATED HIS 25-YEAR-OLD HOUSEKEEPER IN FRONT OF FORTY GUESTS—

Vanessa’s confident, aristocratic mask shattered into a million pieces. She stared at the yellow pharmacy bag in Luca’s hand as if it were a live grenade.

“That’s impossible,” Vanessa breathed, taking a frantic step backward. She pulled her cell phone from her purse, her manicured fingers trembling as she stared at the dark screen. “I heard them on the phone! Dominic had them in the boxcar!”

“You heard the wind on the phone, Vanessa,” Luca corrected, his voice hardening into steel. “You didn't hear a train. You heard the wind off Lake Michigan.”

Luca looked down at the receipt.

Filled: 8:15 AM. Customer: Marco Rossi.

The name hit the room like a thunderclap.

Marco.

Luca’s massive head of security. The man who had been guarding the dining room door. The man who was supposedly orchestrating the lockdown right now.

Luca’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto the heavy oak doors where Marco had stood just minutes ago.

“Marco!” Luca roared, his voice echoing violently through the mansion.

The heavy doors swung open. Marco stepped inside. His face was a mask of grim determination, his right hand resting cautiously on his holstered weapon.

“Boss,” Marco said quietly.

“You bought the inhaler,” Luca stated, holding up the yellow bag. It wasn't a question.

Marco didn't flinch. He looked at Vanessa, who was staring at him with pure, venomous hatred, and then back to Luca.

“Yes, Boss,” Marco admitted, his deep voice steady. “Yesterday afternoon, when Matteo brought Sofia and the boy to the guest room, I recognized her. Sofia begged me for help. She told me Vanessa was planning to have them killed at the rail yard.”

Vanessa shrieked, lunging toward the massive security chief. “You traitorous piece of garbage! My family paid you half a million dollars to handle the boxcar!”

Marco effortlessly caught Vanessa by the wrist, twisting her arm just enough to make her gasp in pain, and shoved her back toward the table.

“Your family paid me to turn a blind eye,” Marco growled. “But I don't murder children. And I don't betray the man who saved my life in the streets twenty years ago.”

Tears of profound relief sprang to Luca’s eyes. He walked over to his head of security and gripped his shoulder tightly.

“Where are they, Marco?” Luca asked, his voice thick with emotion. “Where are my sister and my nephew?”

“I hid them in the old Bellini estate,” Marco replied. “The one Vanessa’s father abandoned a decade ago. It was the only place her men wouldn't think to look. I faked the phone call tonight using a recording app and a wind machine to buy us time to expose her.”

Matteo, still cowering on the floor, let out a pathetic, shuddering breath. “Thank God. Thank God they’re alive.”

Luca turned slowly, looking down at the brother who had destroyed his life.

“You don't get to thank God,” Luca said, his voice devoid of any mercy. “You don't get to speak their names ever again.”

Luca turned back to Marco. “Lock Matteo in the basement holding cell. Have two men watch him. If he tries to escape, break his legs.”

“Yes, Boss,” Marco nodded. He grabbed Matteo by the collar of his suit and dragged him out of the room. Matteo didn't fight back; he just wept, the reality of his destroyed life finally crushing him.

Luca turned his attention back to Vanessa.

The beautiful fiancée was completely cornered. Her blackmail had failed. Her kidnapping plot was exposed. She was alone in a room with a mafia boss she had tried to extort.

But Vanessa Bellini didn't beg. She wasn't built like Matteo.

Instead, a slow, dark smile spread across her face. She smoothed down the front of her red silk dress and casually picked up her champagne flute.

“Well,” Vanessa sighed, taking a sip. “I suppose the wedding is off.”

“You’re going to prison for the rest of your miserable life,” Luca promised, stepping toward her. “Kidnapping. Extortion. Conspiracy to commit murder.”

“Am I?” Vanessa challenged, raising an eyebrow. She reached into her evening bag one last time and pulled out a heavy, brass key.

She tossed it onto the dining table. It clattered against the fine china.

“Do you know what that key opens, Luca?” Vanessa asked smoothly.

Luca stared at the brass key. He didn't answer.

“It opens a safety deposit box at the First Fidelity Bank downtown,” Vanessa smiled, her eyes gleaming with wicked triumph. “A box containing the original, signed confessions of every illegal transaction your father made to build this empire. The bribes, the hits, the money laundering. Everything.”

The blood drained from Luca’s face.

“If I don't enter a passcode on my phone by midnight,” Vanessa continued, examining her nails, “an automated email sends the location and the access codes to the FBI, the District Attorney, and the Chicago Tribune.”

Vanessa took a step closer to Luca, her red lips curving into a cruel sneer.

“I may not get your estate tonight, darling,” Vanessa whispered. “But if you try to lock me in a basement or hand me over to the police, I will burn the Moretti legacy to the ground. You will spend the rest of your life in a federal penitentiary, and your precious nephew will grow up visiting you through reinforced glass.”

The room was suffocatingly quiet. Vanessa had played her final, devastating card. She was offering a stalemate. Her freedom, in exchange for the family’s survival.

Luca’s fists clenched. He was trapped.

But as Vanessa turned to leave, her heels clicking victoriously on the marble floor, Rosa Caruso stood up.

The seventy-nine-year-old nanny walked slowly toward the dining table. Her hands weren't trembling anymore.

“You can send the emails, Vanessa,” Rosa said softly, picking up the brass key from the table.

Vanessa stopped, turning around with a look of utter confusion.

Rosa looked at Luca, her faded blue eyes filled with a fierce, protective fire.