SMILE, SWEETHEART. HE'S AN IMPORTANT GUEST

The study was suffocatingly silent.

I held the child’s drawing, staring at the date. Last week.

Luca’s nephew, Leo, was supposed to have died in the same car crash that took his brother's life five years ago.

Luca looked at the drawing in my hands. His hand holding the gun trembled for a fraction of a second.

“Where is he?” Luca asked. His voice wasn't a roar. It was a terrifying, hollow whisper.

Richard smiled, adjusting his cuffs.

“Safe. Hidden. He’s been a very valuable insurance policy for me and Vanessa.”

“You took him,” Luca breathed. “You faked his death.”

“Vanessa’s idea, actually,” Richard chuckled. “She thought having the true heir to the Moretti empire in our pocket would be useful. If you ever got out of line, we could just replace you with a puppet king.”

Luca took a step forward. He pressed the barrel of his gun directly against Richard’s forehead.

“Tell me where he is. Now.”

“Kill me, and the boy dies,” Richard stated calmly. “My men have orders. If I don't check in every two hours, they eliminate the asset.”

I watched the most powerful man in Chicago freeze.

Luca was trapped. He couldn't pull the trigger.

I looked down at the desk. At the open bottom drawer. At the silver rosary resting there.

“Mr. Moretti,” I said softly.

Luca didn't look away from Richard. “Stay back, Emma.”

I didn't stay back. I picked up the silver rosary.

“Richard,” I said. “Is this yours?”

Richard glanced at me. His eyes darted to the rosary, and for the first time, his arrogant smile slipped.

“Where did you get that?” he demanded.

“It was in the desk,” I lied. I held it up. “It looks just like Vanessa’s.”

Richard’s jaw tightened.

I noticed something etched into the silver cross.

I looked closer.

It wasn't a religious inscription. It was a series of numbers. Coordinates.

“There are numbers on this,” I said out loud.

Richard lunged for me.

He didn't care about Luca’s gun anymore. He moved with desperate, manic speed.

Luca didn't shoot him in the head. He shot him in the kneecap.

Richard screamed, collapsing onto the Persian rug.

Luca kicked the man’s weapon away and turned to me.

“Read the numbers, Emma.”

I read them aloud.

Luca recognized them instantly.

“That’s an old hunting cabin in Wisconsin. My father bought it thirty years ago. It’s off the grid.”

Luca grabbed Richard by the collar, hauling him halfway off the floor.

“Is he there?” Luca roared.

Richard groaned in agony, clutching his shattered knee.

“Vanessa put him there,” Richard gasped. “She didn't trust my men.”

Luca dropped him.

He turned to his radio.

“Marco. Get the med-team for Daniel. Lock Richard in the vault. We’re moving out.”

Luca looked at me and Katie.

“You two are coming with me.”

“To a shootout?” Katie panicked.

“To keep you safe,” Luca corrected. “I can't leave you here. The house is compromised.”

Ten minutes later, we were in the back of an armored SUV, tearing down the highway toward the Wisconsin border.

The rain had started, drumming heavily against the bulletproof glass.

I held Katie’s hand, staring out into the darkness.

Luca sat in the front passenger seat, cleaning his weapons with methodical, terrifying precision.

He turned around and looked at me.

“You saved my nephew’s life today, Emma.”

“We haven't found him yet.”

“We will.”

Luca reached into his coat and pulled something out.

He handed it to me.

It was a heavy, silver key.

“If anything happens to me tonight,” Luca said quietly, “this key opens the main vault at the downtown bank. There is enough money in there to keep you, your sister, and your mother safe for the rest of your lives.”

I stared at the key.

“Why are you giving this to me? I'm just a maid.”

Luca looked deeply into my eyes.

“You were never just a maid, Emma. You're the bravest person I know.”

Before I could answer, the SUV slammed on its brakes.

We were thrown forward against our seatbelts.

The driver shouted, “Boss! Roadblock!”

Standing in the middle of the dark, rain-slicked highway, blocking our path, was Vanessa Bellini.