**THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED HIS 78-YEAR-OLD MOTHER SIT SILENTLY THROUGH HIS ENGAGEMENT TOAST WHILE EVERYONE ELSE APPLAUDED—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “SHE DROPPED HER HEARING AIDS IN THE SINK,” BEFORE HE EVEN ASKED WHY HIS MOTHER COULDN'T HEAR A WORD.**

The basement felt suddenly smaller.

Teresa looked at the photograph in my trembling hand. Her expression shifted from triumph to profound sorrow. She didn't look at Luca. She looked only at me.

"Your father's name was Arthur Parker," Teresa said, her voice steady despite the weight of the moment. "He was a good man."

"He was an accountant," I said, my voice cracking. "He died in a car crash when I was twelve."

"He was an accountant," Luca agreed, stepping closer, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the photo. "But he didn't work for a firm, Emily. He worked for my father."

I stepped back, hitting the edge of a dusty wooden crate. "No. No, that's impossible. We were normal. We were broke."

Teresa reached into the lockbox and pulled out a worn leather notebook. She held it out to me. "Your father was the only man in Chicago who knew how to hide my husband's money from the feds. But twenty years ago, Carlo Bellini found out who he was."

My breath hitched. "What did Bellini do?"

"He demanded your father hand over the account numbers," Teresa said, her eyes filling with tears. "Arthur refused. So Carlo cut the brakes on his car."

A sob tore out of my throat. The memory of the police officers at our front door, the closed-casket funeral, my mother crying herself to sleep for years—it all rushed back, choking me.

"Emily, I am so sorry," Teresa whispered. "When your mother died three years ago, I found out you and your brother were struggling. I couldn't bring your father back, but I could make sure his children survived. That's why I had our staffing agency hire you."

I looked at the woman I had been dressing, feeding, and caring for. "You brought me here out of guilt?"

"Out of duty," Luca corrected, his voice hard but not directed at me. He was staring at the wall, putting the pieces together. "Vanessa knew."

He turned to his mother. "Vanessa knew who Emily was. That's why she treated her like garbage. That's why she wanted to fire her."

Teresa nodded. "Vanessa's father killed Arthur. Vanessa wanted to finish the job by ruining Arthur's children. I played the frail old woman so Vanessa would focus her cruelty on me, not Emily."

Luca's face darkened with a rage I had never seen before. He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a number.

"Marco," Luca said into the phone. "Lock down the perimeter. Nobody leaves the estate. I want Vanessa found. Now."

He listened for a moment, and I watched his jaw clench.

"What do you mean she's already gone?" Luca growled.

He hung up the phone and looked at us. "She slipped out through the kitchen before I even came down here."

Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my apron pocket.

It was a text message from an unknown number.

I opened it, and my knees gave out. I collapsed against the wooden crate, the phone slipping from my fingers.

Luca caught it before it hit the ground. He looked at the screen.

It was a picture of my younger brother, Sam. He was tied to a chair, his face bruised, sitting in a dark room.

Beneath the picture was a message from Vanessa:Your mother stole my money, Luca. Now I have the accountant's son. Bring me the bank codes, or history repeats itself.

Luca looked from the screen to me.

"He was supposed to be in his dorm," I sobbed, panic blinding me. "He's just a kid, Luca. Please."

Luca knelt in front of me. He took my face in his large, warm hands, forcing me to look at him.

"Emily," he said, his voice an iron vow. "She took my mother's dignity. She threatened my home. And now she’s touched my family."