THE MAFIA BOSS DISCOVERS HIS FIANCÉE'S SICK SECRET

I stared at the rusted brass key dangling from Teresa’s trembling fingers.

The master suite was dead silent, save for the soft, rhythmic breathing of little Sophie asleep on the bed.

“Mrs. Moretti,” I whispered, my voice barely working. “You know what happened to Elena?”

Teresa’s eyes were swimming with tears. “I know what my husband found before he died. He locked it away. He told me never to open it unless Luca’s life was in danger.”

She pressed the cold key into my palm and folded my fingers over it.

“Go, Hannah. The old study is at the end of the east wing. Vanessa has been trying to pick that lock for months. You have to get what’s inside before she finds a way back into this house.”

I swallowed hard. “Luca told us not to leave this room.”

“Luca is outside looking for threats in the driveway,” Teresa said firmly. “The real threat is buried in that desk.”

I knew she was right.

I tucked the key and the torn photograph deep into my apron pocket. “Lock the door behind me. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

I slipped out of the safe room, hearing the heavy deadbolts click into place behind me.

The hallway was eerily quiet. The crystal sconces cast long, creeping shadows against the floral wallpaper. The east wing had been largely abandoned since Luca’s father passed away. It always smelled faintly of lemon polish and old leather.

I hurried down the corridor, my rubber-soled shoes making no sound.

The door to the old study groaned softly as I pushed it open.

Moonlight spilled through the heavy velvet drapes, illuminating the massive mahogany desk in the center of the room. It looked like a monument.

I rushed behind the desk and dropped to my knees.

There were three drawers on the right side. The top two opened easily, filled with dusty ledger books and dried-out pens.

The bottom drawer was locked.

My hands shook as I pulled out the brass key. I slid it into the keyhole. It was stiff, resisting at first, but with a hard twist, I heard a sharp clack.

I pulled the drawer open.

It wasn't filled with legal documents or financial records.

It was almost entirely taken up by a thick, heavy bundle wrapped in plastic.

I pulled it out, resting it on the carpet. The plastic crackled loudly in the quiet room as I ripped the tape away.

Inside was a man’s black cashmere winter coat.

I frowned. Why would Luca’s father lock away a coat?

I picked it up by the shoulders. As it unfolded, something slipped out of the pocket and fluttered to the floor.

It was a piece of white construction paper. A child’s drawing.

I picked it up and held it toward the moonlight.

It was drawn in bright, messy crayons. It showed a little girl with yellow hair holding hands with a woman. Beside them was a big black car.

But underneath the car, someone had drawn thick red lines. And a man with angry, scribbled-out eyes standing next to a tire.

In the corner, written in clumsy eight-year-old handwriting, were the words: Dominic made Mommy’s car sick.

My breath caught in my throat.

Sophie had seen it. She had been outside when Dominic tampered with the brakes. She hadn't understood what she was seeing at the time, but she had drawn it.

I looked back down at the cashmere coat in my lap.

I turned it over.

The entire left sleeve was stiff and crusted with dark, dried blood.

I brought the fabric closer to my face. The scent of a very specific, expensive cologne still clung to the wool. Cedar and bergamot.

It was the exact same cologne Dominic Bellini had been wearing tonight.

My mind raced, trying to piece the nightmare together. Elena’s accident had been brutal. But if Dominic had tampered with the car, why was his coat covered in blood? Was he at the scene of the crash? Did he pull her out? Did he make sure she didn't survive?

I had to show this to Luca.

I hurriedly folded the coat back into a bundle and grabbed the drawing.

But as I stood up to turn toward the door, my heart nearly stopped.

A dark figure was standing in the doorway.

The moonlight caught the gleam of a silver pistol hanging at the man's side.

I froze, terror paralyzing my legs.

“I told you not to leave the safe room, Hannah.”

It was Luca.

His voice wasn’t angry. It was horribly, completely hollow.

He stepped into the room, kicking the heavy wooden door shut behind him. The sound echoed like a gunshot.

“Mr. Moretti,” I stammered, my grip tightening on the bloody coat. “I… your mother gave me the key. You have to see this.”

Luca didn’t look at the coat. He didn't look at the drawing in my hand.

He walked slowly toward me, his dark eyes fixed on my face.

“Do you know why I hired you, Hannah?” he asked quietly.

I blinked, completely thrown by the question. “Because… because I had good references. From the agency.”

Luca let out a dry, humorless laugh.

He reached into his own suit jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He tossed it onto the mahogany desk.

“You didn’t come from an agency.”

I stared at the paper.

“I know who you are, Hannah,” Luca said, taking another step closer. The pistol gleamed at his side. “I’ve known since the day you walked into my house.”

My blood turned to ice.

“I know about the hospital bills,” he continued smoothly. “I know about your mother’s surgery.”

He stopped directly in front of me.