THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE CALLED ME “A STUPID LITTLE MAID” WHEN I REFUSED TO BLAME HIS LATE MOTHER’S SEAMSTRESS—BUT ONE PHOTOGRAPH MADE NICO STOP THE ENGAGEMENT DINNER.

The drive back to the Bellini mansion felt like a death march.

I sat in the back of Bianca’s luxury sedan, my arm tightly wrapped around Leo. The little boy was shaking violently, his face buried in my side. Bianca sat in the front passenger seat, nervously tapping her manicured fingernails against the dashboard.

She had burned the photo, but she was terrified of the phantom ledger I had just invented.

"If this is a trick, Emma," Bianca said without turning around, her voice razor-sharp, "I will call the men at the shop and listen to your mother die over the phone."

"It's not a trick," I lied, keeping my voice flat.

My mind was spinning. There was no ledger. But I needed to get Bianca back to the mansion. I needed her inside Lucia Bellini’s sewing room.

Because I knew something Bianca didn't.

Before Mrs. Alvarez was threatened and humiliated at the dinner party, she had spent the entire afternoon packing up Lucia’s room. And Mrs. Alvarez was old-school loyal. She would never have left the mansion without ensuring Lucia’s most precious items were protected.

The heavy iron gates of the Bellini estate swung open. The mansion was dark, eerily quiet. The sixty-four guests were long gone. The driveway was empty.

"Get out," the guard grunted, pulling me and Leo from the car.

Bianca marched us up the grand marble staircase, straight to the west wing where Lucia’s suite was located. The double doors were wide open.

Inside, the room was a mess of half-packed cardboard boxes and overturned drawers. The movers Claire had hired had ransacked the place.

"Where is it?" Bianca demanded, crossing her arms.

"The large oak armoire in the corner," I pointed to the massive antique sewing cabinet. "There's a false panel behind the spool racks."

Bianca nodded to her guard. "Break it open."

The guard holstered his gun and grabbed a heavy brass fire poker from the hearth. He began smashing it against the beautiful oak paneling. The wood splintered with a sickening crack.

I pulled Leo back into the hallway, slowly inching toward the service elevator.

"Hey! Stay where I can see you," the second guard snapped, blocking the exit.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from inside the room.

"It's empty!" the first guard shouted. "There's no ledger! There's no false panel!"

Bianca spun around, her face twisting into absolute fury. She marched out of the room, raising her gun directly at my face.

"You stupid bitch," she hissed. "I'm going to enjoy this."

She reached into her pocket for her phone. "Kill them. I'm calling the shop to order the hit on her mother."

She dialed the number and put it on speaker.

It rang once. Twice.

Then, someone answered.

"Bianca."

It wasn't her guard. It was Nico.

Bianca froze, the color draining from her face. "Nico? Where are my men?"

"They're breathing through tubes, waiting for an ambulance," Nico’s voice was lethally calm over the speaker. "And I have your father's watch. The watch that places him at the scene of my brother's murder."

"The photograph is burned!" Bianca screamed, losing all composure. "A watch proves nothing to the police!"

"I'm not going to the police, Bianca," Nico said softly. "I called the Commission. The five families are waiting for me at the warehouse right now. When I show them this watch, and explain how your father broke the syndicate's oldest rule by killing a made man's family... the Rossis will be erased by morning."

Bianca staggered back, dropping the phone. The syndicate's rules were absolute. If the other families found out her father had ordered the hit on Matteo Bellini, they wouldn't just kill him. They would dismantle the entire Rossi bloodline.

"Stop him!" Bianca shrieked at her guards. "Get to the warehouse! We have to intercept him!"

The two guards immediately bolted down the hallway, leaving Bianca alone with me and Leo.

She turned to us, her eyes wild, cornered, and desperate. She raised her gun again, her hands shaking violently.

"You're coming with me," she snarled at me. "You're going to be my hostage. If Nico shows that watch to the Commission, I put a bullet in your head."

Before I could react, a shadow moved from the darkness of the adjacent guest room.

A heavy, brass candlestick swung through the air and connected squarely with the side of Bianca’s head.

Bianca crumpled to the floor instantly, out cold.

Standing over her, breathing heavily and gripping the candlestick with swollen, arthritic fingers, was Mrs. Alvarez.

"Mrs. Alvarez!" I gasped.

"She locked me in the pantry," the older woman panted, adjusting her glasses. "But I have the master keys. I came up the servant stairs when I heard shouting."

Mrs. Alvarez looked down at Bianca, then spat on the floor next to her designer coat. "Nobody ruins my lace and gets away with it."

I let out a hysterical breath of relief and hugged her.

"Come on," Mrs. Alvarez said, ushering me and Leo toward the servant stairs. "Mr. Bellini called me on the landline five minutes ago. He's not at the warehouse. It was a bluff to get her guards out of the house. He's pulling into the driveway right now."

We hurried down the narrow, hidden stairwell. As we reached the kitchen, the heavy oak front doors burst open.

Nico stormed in, flanked by ten of his own heavily armed men. When he saw me and Leo safe with Mrs. Alvarez, his broad shoulders dropped. The terrifying mafia boss disappeared, replaced by a man who looked like he had just been given his life back.

He walked straight past his men, crossed the kitchen, and pulled me and Leo into a crushing embrace.

"You're safe," Nico whispered into my hair. "It's over."

But as I hugged him back, I looked over his shoulder at the kitchen counter.

Lying there was a child's drawing. It was a picture of a house, a dog, and a woman holding a baby.

"Leo," I asked, pulling back slightly. "Did you draw this?"

Leo shook his head. "No. I found it in the silver box. Under the picture of the bad man."

Nico pulled away, frowning. He picked up the drawing. He turned it over.

On the back, in Lucia Bellini’s handwriting, was a date. October 14th, 2023.

That was six months after Matteo and his wife died.

And next to the date was a name.

Isabella.

Nico stared at the name, all the blood leaving his face. "My brother's wife... her name was Isabella. They told me she died in the fire. They told me she was pregnant and the baby died with her."