**THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE ORDERED ME TO SEND HIS FATHER’S FIRST EMPLOYEE HOME BEFORE THEIR ENGAGEMENT DINNER—BUT WHEN I WALKED HIM INTO THE DINING ROOM CARRYING HIS DENTED LUNCHBOX, LUCA MORETTI LOOKED AT HIS EMPTY BELT AND ASKED, “FRANK… WHO TOOK YOUR KEYS?”** “Put him in a cab.”

For a moment, I thought Vanessa was going to faint.

The high-society princess of the Bellini crime family, publicly humiliated and evicted by a handyman holding a dented lunchbox.

Her enforcers grabbed her by the arms and dragged her toward the front door. She didn’t fight them. She just stared at Luca with a look of pure, venomous hatred.

“This isn’t over, Moretti,” she hissed as the heavy oak doors closed behind her.

As the lock clicked in place, the tension in the hallway shattered. The Moretti guards lowered their shotguns. The fire alarm finally shut off, leaving only the sound of dripping water from the sprinklers.

Luca turned around. He looked at the chaos of his ruined mansion, but there was no anger in his eyes. Only relief.

He walked over to Frank.

“You okay, old man?” Luca asked.

Frank managed a weak smile. “I’ve had quieter Tuesdays, kid.”

Julian tugged on Frank’s pant leg. “Is the mean lady gone?”

“She’s gone, buddy,” Frank said, ruffling the boy’s hair.

Then, Marco Rossi groaned.

He slid down the wall, clutching his ribs, his breathing turning ragged.

“Marco!” I yelled, running to his side. Luca and Frank were right behind me.

Marco’s face was pale, his lips turning blue. The beating he had taken from Vanessa’s men was worse than we thought.

“I need to call an ambulance,” I said, pulling out my phone.

Marco weakly grabbed my wrist. “No police. No hospitals.”

“Marco, you’re bleeding internally,” Frank said, his voice laced with panic. “You need a doctor.”

“Luca has a private doctor on payroll,” I remembered. “I’ll call him.” I stepped away to dial the number.

While I waited for the doctor to answer, Marco looked up at Luca.

“Luca,” Marco wheezed. “Before… before I lose consciousness. There’s something else. Something you need to know.”

Luca knelt beside him. “Save your strength, Marco. You’re safe now.”

“No,” Marco insisted, grabbing Luca’s lapel with a bloodied hand. “You need to know the truth about the night your father died.”

The hallway went completely still.

“I know the truth,” Luca said softly. “The Bellinis put a hit out on him. A hit-and-run.”

“Yes,” Marco coughed. “But they didn’t want to kill Antonio.”

Luca frowned. “What do you mean?”

Marco looked past Luca. He looked directly at Frank.

“Tell him, Frank,” Marco whispered. “It’s time.”

Luca turned to look at the old handyman.

Frank was trembling. The strong, stoic man who had just evicted a mafia princess was suddenly shrinking before our eyes. He looked down at his boots, tears freely spilling over his weathered cheeks.

“Frank?” Luca asked, his voice breaking. “What is he talking about?”

Frank took a shuddering breath.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the old, faded photograph that was always in his lunchbox. The one of Antonio, Frank, and nine-year-old Luca in the workshop.

“They weren’t aiming for your father, Luca,” Frank sobbed, handing the photograph to the mafia boss.

Luca looked at the picture.

“The night Antonio died,” Frank cried, his voice echoing in the wet, ruined hallway. “We were walking back from a diner. We were arguing about the port. A black town car sped around the corner. It didn’t swerve toward Antonio.”

Frank fell to his knees on the wet marble floor.

“It swerved toward me.”

Luca stared at him, paralyzed.

“Don Bellini knew Antonio wouldn’t sign the port over,” Frank wept. “But he knew Antonio loved me like a brother. He thought if he killed me, it would break Antonio’s spirit.”

“Frank…” Luca whispered.

“I froze, Luca,” Frank bawled, burying his face in his hands. “I saw the headlights and I couldn’t move. But your father… Antonio didn’t hesitate.”

Frank looked up, his eyes filled with thirteen years of unbearable guilt.

“He shoved me out of the way. He took the hit for me. He died because of me, Luca. I killed your father.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy and devastating.

I covered my mouth, tears streaming down my own face.

Luca stood perfectly still, looking at the man who had taught him how to hold a hammer. The man who had protected him, watched over him, and guarded his family’s secrets for nearly four decades.

Luca slowly lowered the photograph.

He took a step toward Frank.

His fists were clenched at his sides.

I held my breath, terrified of what the mafia boss would do to the man who caused his father’s death.

Luca stopped right in front of Frank.

He looked down at the weeping old man.

Then, Luca reached out.