"SHE WANTED ME TO CALL YOU BEFORE THE WEDDING AND TELL YOU I NEVER WANTED TO BE YOUR DAUGHTER AGAIN."

I backed against the open safe, my heart racing so fast it made my injured ribs scream in protest.

Vanessa didn't draw a weapon. She didn't have to.

Two massive guards in tailored suits stepped into the closet behind her, blocking the only exit.

"How did you know I was here?" I demanded, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

Vanessa sighed, tossing my mother's gold necklace onto a velvet ottoman as if it were cheap costume jewelry.

"I didn't know you were here, darling," Vanessa said smoothly. "I just knew you would eventually try to play the hero. The working class always has such a predictable martyr complex."

She walked over to a vanity mirror, adjusting a diamond hairpin in her immaculate blonde updo.

"I emptied the safe an hour ago," she continued, admiring her reflection. "The forged documents are already in the hands of my family's attorney. The moment I say 'I do' at the altar, they will be filed with the state. Mia is effectively disinherited."

I swallowed hard. "Luca knows who you are. He knows about the bomb."

Vanessa laughed, a bright, genuinely amused sound.

"Of course he does. And he's going to marry me anyway. Because Luca is weak when it comes to the people he loves. He'll sacrifice his empire to save a house full of servants and an old housekeeper."

She turned to face me, her smile dropping into a mask of pure venom.

"But I didn't want him to marry me out of duty, Rachel. I want him to suffer. The way my father suffered when Thomas Bennett stole our family's ledger and handed our territory over to the Morettis."

"My father stopped a massacre," I spat back, standing taller despite the pain.

"Your father made us beggars in our own city!" Vanessa hissed, stepping so close I could smell her expensive jasmine perfume. "And today, I take it all back."

She looked me up and down, taking in my plain black uniform and white apron.

"I was going to have my men quietly kill you in the basement," Vanessa mused, her tone turning sickeningly sweet. "But I think I have a better role for you today."

She snapped her fingers.

One of the guards stepped forward, holding a silver serving tray.

On the tray rested two crystal champagne flutes, filled with golden liquid.

"The post-wedding toast," Vanessa explained. "A tradition in the syndicate. The new bride and groom drink from the same vintage to seal the union."

She reached into the bodice of her wedding dress and pulled out a tiny glass vial.

She uncorked it and poured three drops of clear liquid into one of the flutes.

"Odorless. Tasteless," Vanessa smiled. "A specialized paralytic. It mimics a massive heart attack. It takes exactly three minutes to stop a human heart."

My blood ran cold. "You're going to kill him at the altar."

"No, Rachel," Vanessa corrected, handing the tray to the guard. "I'm going to watch you kill him at the altar."

I stared at her in absolute horror.

"You are going to serve us this champagne," Vanessa ordered, her eyes dead and cold. "If you refuse, or if you try to warn him, my men will trigger the explosives beneath the chapel. Luca dies, and three hundred guests die with him."

She leaned in, her lips inches from my ear.

"But if you serve him the poisoned glass, he dies a natural death. The bomb doesn't go off. The guests live. You get to walk away."

I felt a wave of nausea crash over me.

She was forcing me to be his executioner to save the innocent people in the house.

"Take her to the kitchen," Vanessa instructed her guards. "Do not let her out of your sight until the ceremony concludes."

The guards grabbed my arms, roughly shoving me forward. I bit my lip to keep from screaming as the pressure hit my fractured ribs.

I was escorted down to the massive estate kitchens.

The room was a whirlwind of activity. Caterers were plating hors d'oeuvres, florists were rushing past with white roses, and Mrs. Carter was shouting orders over the din.

When she saw me flanked by two enormous men in dark suits, her face went pale.

I couldn't speak. The guard's hand was clamped tightly around my upper arm.

They pushed me into a corner near the service doors, handing me the silver tray with the two champagne flutes.

"Don't move," the guard whispered, his hand resting on the bulge of a weapon under his jacket.

At exactly 10:00 AM, the music began.

A string quartet started playing in the grand chapel attached to the east wing of the mansion.

Through the open double doors of the kitchen, I could see the aisle.

The pews were packed with Chicago's most powerful, dangerous men. The syndicate bosses.

Then, Luca walked down the aisle.

He wore a perfectly tailored black tuxedo. He looked impossibly handsome, but his face was carved from stone. He looked like a man walking to his own execution.

He stood at the altar, waiting.

As the bridal march played, Vanessa appeared. She was radiant, smiling tearfully at the guests, playing the perfect, innocent bride.

Luca didn't look at her.

As Vanessa reached the altar, Luca slowly turned his head.

His dark eyes scanned the room, looking past the guests, past the flowers, directly through the open service doors.

He locked eyes with me.

And then, very slowly, Luca raised his left hand and adjusted his cufflink.

Once. Twice.

My breath caught.