THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE ORDERED THE 25-YEAR-OLD MAID TO POISON HIS GRANDMOTHER—BUT WHAT THE MAID DID AT THE ENGAGEMENT

The ballroom was so quiet I could hear my own rapid heartbeat.

Sloane’s smile wasn't panicked. It wasn't defensive. It was a slow, calculating smirk that made the blood freeze in my veins.

Nico Bellini didn't look at the two hundred guests. He didn't look at his grandmother. He kept his dark, piercing eyes locked entirely on the woman wearing his diamond engagement ring.

“Why are you smiling, Sloane?” Nico asked. His voice was a low, terrifying whisper that echoed across the marble floor.

Sloane adjusted her silk shawl, stepping away from the spilled tea.

“Because, darling,” Sloane said smoothly, “your maid is far more dangerous than she looks. I didn't order the transfer of her mother. I tried to stop it.”

“What are you talking about?” I cried, my hands trembling. “The hospital said you authorized it!”

“The hospital was given a forged signature,” Sloane countered effortlessly. She looked at Nico, her eyes wide with manufactured concern. “Nico, I caught Nora in your private study yesterday. She was going through your father’s old files.”

“That’s a lie!” I screamed.

“Is it?” Sloane stepped closer to Nico. “Her mother didn't just have a stroke, Nico. Her mother has been hiding in Chicago for twenty years. Evelyn Bennett used to work for your parents. She was the housekeeper on duty the night they were murdered.”

The air left my lungs.

My mother? Working for the Bellinis?

“My mother was a public school teacher!” I said frantically, looking at Nico. “She never worked for your family! I didn't even know who you were until I applied for this job!”

Nico stared at me. His expression was completely unreadable.

“It’s true, Nico,” Sloane insisted softly, placing a manicured hand on his chest. “Evelyn Bennett changed her name. She went into hiding because she saw who cut the brakes on your parents' car. And she’s been blackmailing my family ever since to keep quiet.”

“She had a stroke!” I yelled, tears spilling hot over my cheeks. “She can barely speak! How could she blackmail anyone?”

“Because she passed the information to you,” Sloane said coldly. “You took this job to infiltrate this house. You poisoned Teresa’s tea to create a distraction so your accomplices could move your mother out of the hospital before my security team could question her.”

It was a masterclass in manipulation. Sloane was taking every truth, every piece of evidence, and twisting it perfectly to frame me.

Nico looked down at the small glass bottle of poison resting on the silver tray.

Then he looked at his grandmother, Teresa, who was trembling in her wheelchair.

“Nico,” Teresa whispered, her voice frail. “Nora is a good girl. She didn't do this.”

“Nonna, she has you completely fooled,” Sloane sighed. She turned to the head of security, a massive man named Marco. “Marco. Take Nora to the basement. Do not let her leave. We need to find out where she moved her mother.”

Marco stepped forward, his heavy hand grabbing my upper arm.

“No!” I sobbed, struggling against his grip. “Mr. Bellini, please! She’s lying! She’s going to kill my mother!”

Nico didn't move. He stood perfectly still, his hands in his pockets, his face carved from stone.

“Take her down, Marco,” Nico ordered quietly.

My heart shattered. He believed her.

“Nico, no!” Teresa cried out, but Marco was already dragging me toward the service doors.

I fought, kicking and screaming, but the security chief was too strong. He pulled me through the kitchen, down the concrete stairs, and into the dark, windowless wine cellar.

He threw me onto the cold stone floor.

“Please,” I begged, crawling toward his boots. “You have to let me find her.”

Marco didn't say a word. He stepped back, pulled the heavy steel door shut, and locked it.

I was plunged into total darkness.

I sat on the freezing floor, pulling my knees to my chest, sobbing uncontrollably. My mother was gone. The woman who had sacrificed everything to raise me was in the hands of monsters, and I was locked in a cage, framed for attempted murder.

I don't know how much time passed. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours.

Then, I heard the heavy deadbolt click.

The steel door swung open.

A silhouette stood in the doorway, blocking the dim light from the hallway.

It wasn't Marco.

It was Nico.

He walked into the cellar and closed the door behind him, locking it from the inside.

He didn't look angry. He looked exhausted.

He knelt on the stone floor in front of me. He reached into his tuxedo jacket and pulled out a heavy, antique silver key.

“I had to let her think she won,” Nico whispered, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “If I challenged Sloane in front of the guests, her father’s men would have executed your mother before we could trace the car.”

I stared at him, my breath catching in my throat. “You... you believe me?”

“I believe the girl who serves my grandmother tea every night,” Nico said softly. “Sloane made one fatal mistake in her lie.”

He pressed the silver key into my palm. His fingers were warm against my freezing skin.

“What mistake?” I asked.

“She said your mother was the housekeeper the night my parents died,” Nico replied, his voice hardening into absolute steel. “But my parents didn't have a housekeeper. They had a mechanic.”

He leaned closer.