THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE CALLED A DEAF WAITER A THIEF—THEN A MAID SIGNED ONE QUESTION, AND THE BOSS SAID, “TRANSLATE HIS ANSWER.”

The vault was pitch black.

Luca pulled his phone from his pocket, turning on the flashlight. The narrow beam cut through the dusty air.

He didn't panic. He packed the leather journal and the birth certificates into his jacket.

“Anna, grab my hand,” Luca said.

I grabbed his hand, gripping it tightly.

We moved to the back of the vault. Just as Mateo had said, behind a row of empty deposit boxes was a heavy iron grate. Luca braced his boots against the wall and pulled with all his strength.

The grate groaned, rusted metal snapping, and swung open.

We crawled into a narrow, damp stone tunnel. The air smelled of ancient earth and salt water. We were under the streets of Palermo, in the ancient catacombs.

Above us, muffled but distinct, we heard the sound of gunfire.

The New York hit squad had arrived at the bank.

“Keep moving,” Luca whispered, pulling me forward through the dark tunnels.

We navigated the labyrinth of the catacombs for what felt like hours, the distant sounds of the city above filtering down through air grates. Finally, we saw a sliver of moonlight.

We emerged through an old iron door set into the sea wall, right on the edge of the Mediterranean.

The cool ocean breeze hit my face. We were safe.

Luca pulled out his encrypted satellite phone and made a call.

“We need extraction,” Luca said into the phone. “Palermo harbor. Ten minutes.”

He hung up and looked at me. His face was smudged with dirt, but his eyes were blazing with a new, fierce purpose.

He pulled the leather journal from his jacket.

“Mateo saved hundreds of lives,” Luca said, staring at the book. “Children who grew up normal, safe, completely unaware that their fathers were monsters.”

“Like me,” I whispered.

Luca looked at me, softening. He touched my cheek.

“Yes. Like you.”

He looked out at the dark ocean.

“The Commission wants this ledger so they can hunt them down. Erase the rival bloodlines forever.”

“What are we going to do with it?” I asked.

Luca didn't answer immediately. He looked at the book, then at the ocean, and then at me.

“We’re going to burn it,” Luca said.

I gasped. “Burn it? But Mateo—”

“Mateo wanted me to protect them,” Luca interrupted softly. “If I keep this book, they are never truly safe. The only way to guarantee that the Commission never finds them… is to ensure that the record no longer exists.”

He pulled a silver lighter from his pocket. The same lighter he had carried for twenty years.

He flicked it open. The flame illuminated the darkness.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

Luca smiled. “I’m a legitimate businessman now, Anna. I don't keep black books.”

He touched the flame to the edge of the leather journal.

The old, dry paper caught instantly. We stood on the edge of the sea wall, watching the flames consume the names, the locations, the secret histories of a hundred saved children.

When the fire reached his fingers, Luca dropped the burning book onto the stones. We watched it turn to ash, scattering into the wind and blowing out over the Mediterranean Sea.

The past was gone.

Ten minutes later, a sleek black speedboat pulled up to the sea wall. Luca’s men.

We climbed aboard. As the boat sped away into the night, carrying us toward a private airstrip and our flight home, Luca wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady, strong beat of his heart.

“We’re going home,” Luca whispered, kissing the top of my head.