STOP HELPING HIM! HE'S THIRTY-TWO YEARS OLD, NOT A TODDLER, AND NOBODY WANTS TO LISTEN TO HIM STUTTER!” THE MAFIA BOSS'S FIANCÉE HUMILIATED HIS 27-YEAR-OLD MAID FOR HELPING A NERVOUS MAN PREPARE A TOAST—BUT WHEN THE MAN WHISPERED, “I RAISED HER AFTER MOM DIED,” MATTEO RUSSO SLOWLY PUT DOWN HIS GLASS

“Don't point that at him!” Andrew screamed, throwing his own body over his father’s chest.

Matteo’s gun didn’t lower. His eyes were dark, calculating, searching for a trap.

“The watch, Andrew,” Matteo said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “Where did he get it?”

“I don't know!” Andrew sobbed, desperately pressing his hands against Arthur’s chest. “He’s had it since I was a kid! Please, call an ambulance!”

I looked down at the old man. His lips were turning blue.

“Matteo, put the gun away!” I yelled. “He’s having a heart attack. If you let him die here, you’ll never get your answers!”

Matteo stared at me. He saw the fierce determination in my green eyes—eyes that mirrored his own father’s.

He lowered the gun and pulled out his phone.

“Get the private medical team up here,” he ordered into the receiver. “Now.”

Within seconds, three men in scrubs rushed into the room carrying oxygen and a defibrillator. They pushed us aside and went to work on Arthur.

I picked up the silver pocket watch from the floor.

The metal was heavy and cold. The Moretti crest—a coiled snake around a sword—was unmistakable.

“He’s not a mafia man, Mr. Russo,” I whispered, looking at Arthur’s cheap, scuffed shoes. “Look at him. He’s a hardware store owner. He doesn't have the money or the power to be involved with the Morettis.”

“Then why does he carry their crest?” Matteo demanded.

Victoria, who had been sobbing quietly in the corner, suddenly laughed. It was a broken, hysterical sound.

“You idiots,” she spat, wiping her mascara-stained cheeks.

We all turned to her.

“He didn't buy that watch,” Victoria said, staring at her unconscious father with bitter resentment. “He stole it.”

Andrew stood up, his fists shaking. “Don't talk about Dad like that! He never stole a thing in his life!”

“Oh, please,” Victoria sneered. “You think you know him, Andrew? You think he’s some perfect, hardworking saint?”

She pointed at the watch in my hand.

“He didn't hurt his back in a factory accident, Andrew. He got shot.”

Andrew froze. “What?”

“Twelve years ago,” Victoria said. “He tried to rob a pawn shop downtown to pay off his gambling debts. The shop was owned by the Moretti family. They caught him, shot him in the spine, and took everything we had. That’s why we were poor. That’s why Mom died of a stress-induced stroke.”

Andrew backed away, shaking his head violently. “No. No, Dad wouldn't—”

“He took the watch from the shop before he ran,” Victoria said, her voice dripping with venom. “He kept it as a trophy. He’s a pathetic, lying thief. Just like I’m a thief. It runs in the family.”

Matteo’s jaw clenched. “So the Morettis didn't just find out about Grace. They’ve been blackmailing you because of your father’s debt.”

“Yes!” Victoria cried. “They told me if I didn't pay them the half-million, they would kill him! I took his money to save his life, you ungrateful bastards!”

The medical team lifted Arthur onto a stretcher. “We have a pulse, sir,” the lead medic told Matteo. “But we need to get him to the underground clinic immediately.”

“Take him,” Matteo ordered.

As the medics wheeled Arthur away, Andrew stared at his sister, his entire world shattered.

“You lied to me for twelve years,” Andrew whispered.

Victoria crossed her arms, trying to maintain her dignity. “I protected you.”

I looked at the silver watch in my hand.

Something was wrong.

The casing was thick. Too thick for a standard pocket watch.

I pried my fingernail into a small seam along the side.

With a soft click, a hidden compartment popped open.

A small, folded piece of paper fell out onto the rug.

Matteo snatched it up and unfolded it.

His eyes widened in shock.