THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE ORDERED ME TO PUTs HIS PREGNANT DAUGHTER IN A CAB BEFORE THEIR ENGAGEMENT DINNER—BUT WHEN I WALKED HER INTO THE DINING ROOM, LUCA MORETTI DROPPED HIS FORK AND WHISPERED, “YOU’RE HAVING A BABY?”

The heavy silence of the study pressed against my ears. I stared at the faded piece of paper in my hand, the words written in Antonio Moretti's jagged handwriting burning into my mind.

If I am dead, Arthur Bellini ordered the hit. He stole the South Side shipping contracts. He poisoned my drink at the summit. My watch holds the proof.

"He knew he was dying," I whispered, tracing the dried blood on the gold casing of the watch. "He managed to write this and hide the watch before the poison took him."

"And Arthur’s men couldn't find it," Emily said, her voice shaking with a mixture of grief and profound realization. "The official story was a massive heart attack. Just like they did to my mother twenty-three years later."

My stomach churned violently. Arthur Bellini was a ghost, a master of quiet assassinations. He had murdered the father to steal his business, and then murdered the wife to keep his secret buried. And tonight, he had sat at Luca’s table, smiling, preparing to steal the entire empire through a forced marriage with his daughter.

"We have to give this to your father," I said, standing up quickly. "This proves everything. It gives him the justification he needs with the Commission to execute Arthur tonight."

"No," Emily said, grabbing my wrist.

I frowned, looking down at the pregnant woman. "Emily, what do you mean, no? This is the proof!"

"If I give this to my dad right now, he will walk into that dining room and put a bullet in Arthur’s head," Emily explained, her eyes wide with terror. "And if he does that, the Bellini syndicate will retaliate. They have an army, Claire. My dad doesn't have the numbers to fight a full-scale war right now. People will die. My baby..."

She rested her hand on her swollen stomach, tears slipping down her cheeks. "...my baby will be born into a bloodbath."

I understood her fear. The mafia wasn't just a business; it was an ecosystem built on precarious balance. Executing a boss without a formal sit-down with the Commission was a declaration of war against every family in Chicago.

"Then what do we do?" I asked, feeling entirely out of my depth. "We can't just hide it again."

Before Emily could answer, my cell phone buzzed in my apron pocket.

I jumped, startled by the sudden noise. I pulled it out.

It was an unknown number.

I hesitated, then answered it, putting it on speaker.

"Hello?" I said cautiously.

"Claire."

The voice on the other end was smooth, cold, and dripping with venom. It was Vanessa.

"Vanessa," I breathed, my heart hammering. "Where are you?"

"I’m outside the estate," she sneered. "My father’s men grabbed me during the chaos and pulled me out to the cars. We are currently sitting at the end of the driveway."

"Your father is locked in the dining room with Luca," I countered, trying to sound braver than I felt. "He’s a dead man."

"My father is a dead man if Luca kills him," Vanessa laughed, a harsh, jagged sound. "But Luca won't kill him. Because my father isn't an idiot. He doesn't go to dinner without an insurance policy."

"What are you talking about?"

"Look out the window, little maid," Vanessa instructed.

I walked over to the heavy velvet curtains covering the study window and pulled them back slightly. The window overlooked the front gates of the mansion.

Parked just outside the massive iron gates were four black SUVs.

But it wasn't the SUVs that made my blood run cold.

Standing in the pouring rain, illuminated by the headlights, were three men. Two of them were heavily armed Bellini enforcers.

The third man was kneeling on the wet asphalt, his hands zip-tied behind his back, a gun pressed against his temple.

He was wearing a simple jacket and glasses. He looked terrified.

Emily screamed.

"Michael!" she cried, rushing to the window, pressing her hands against the glass.

It was her fiancé. The baby’s father.

"We picked up the schoolteacher an hour ago," Vanessa purred through the phone, enjoying the terror in Emily’s voice. "He was remarkably easy to grab. Tell Emily that if she wants her baby to have a father, she needs to bring the gold watch out to the gates. Right now."

"You’re a monster," I whispered, tears springing to my eyes.

"I’m a survivor," Vanessa corrected coldly. "You have five minutes. If you tell Luca, or if you bring anyone else, we shoot the teacher and dump his body on your pristine lawn."

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone, my mind racing frantically.

"I have to go," Emily sobbed, grabbing the gold watch and the faded letter from the desk. "I have to give it to them."

"Emily, no!" I grabbed her arm, stopping her from moving toward the door. "If you go out there, they won't just take the watch. They’ll take you, too! You’re the only leverage they have left against your father!"

"I can't let them kill Michael!" she screamed, fighting against my grip. "He’s innocent! He doesn't know anything about this world!"

"I know," I pleaded, holding her tight. "I know, Emily. But Vanessa is lying. If she gets the proof that her father killed Antonio, she’ll execute Michael anyway to leave no witnesses. We have to tell Luca."

"Luca will start a war!"

"Luca will save Michael," I said firmly, looking her dead in the eye. "He’s your father, Emily. He bought a crib for a baby he didn't even know he was allowed to see. He loves you. Let him protect you."

Emily stopped fighting. She collapsed against me, sobbing uncontrollably.

I didn't waste another second. I grabbed the gold watch and the letter, unlocked the study door, and sprinted down the hallway toward the dining room.

The heavy mahogany doors were guarded by two of Marco’s men.

"I need to see Mr. Moretti," I gasped, out of breath. "It’s an absolute emergency."

The guards hesitated, but they had seen Luca defend me earlier. One of them cracked the door open and spoke quietly into the room.

A moment later, the door swung open.

Luca stood there, his suit jacket off, his tie loosened. His white shirt was splattered with a few drops of blood. He looked exhausted, lethal, and completely terrifying.

"Claire, what is it?" Luca asked, his voice sharp. "Is Emily okay?"

"Emily is fine," I panted, stepping into the room.

I looked past him. Arthur Bellini was sitting in a chair in the center of the room, tied down, his face badly bruised. Marco stood over him, holding a pair of heavy pliers.

"Vanessa has Michael," I blurted out, unable to hold it back.

Luca froze. "The baby’s father?"

"Yes," I nodded frantically. "She called my phone. They have him at the front gates. She said if Emily doesn't bring out the gold watch, they’ll execute him."

Arthur Bellini let out a bloody, arrogant laugh. "My daughter is smarter than she looks. You’re trapped, Luca. Let me go, and you get the teacher back. Keep me, and your grandchild grows up a bastard."

Luca didn't look at Arthur. He looked at me.

"What gold watch?" Luca asked quietly.

I opened my hand, revealing the bloodstained gold pocket watch and the faded letter.

"Emily found this in her mother’s cabinet," I explained, my voice trembling. "It belonged to your father, Antonio. The letter proves Arthur murdered him thirty years ago."

Luca stared at the watch. The crest of the roaring lion caught the light of the chandeliers.

He didn't yell. He didn't explode in a rage.

He reached out and gently took the watch and the letter from my hand. He read the faded ink.

I watched the man who had grieved his father for thirty years finally understand the truth of his death. A single, silent tear slipped down his cheek, cutting a clean line through the dust on his face.

He closed his hand around the watch, holding it tight against his chest.

Then, he turned slowly back to Arthur Bellini.

The calm, collected mafia boss vanished.

"Marco," Luca whispered, his voice a low, vibrating hum of pure, unadulterated violence.