**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.**

"Carlo Bellini is dead," Luca said flatly, walking down the grand staircase with me close behind.

"He died ten years ago," Marco agreed, matching his pace. "But the courier said the package was held in a trust, instructed to be delivered the morning after your engagement party."

We walked into the formal living room. Teresa was sitting on the velvet sofa. She still wore her damp clothes from the shipping yard. In front of her, on the glass coffee table, sat a small wooden box.

It was plain, unvarnished mahogany.

"Mom, don't touch it," Luca ordered, stepping forward.

"I already opened it," Teresa said quietly. Her hands were trembling again, but this time, it wasn't an act.

Luca looked inside the box. He reached in and pulled out a single, folded piece of thick parchment paper. He read it in silence. As his eyes moved down the page, his face drained of color.

"What does it say?" I asked, stepping beside him.

Luca didn't answer. He handed the paper to his mother.

Teresa read it, and a choked sob escaped her lips. She covered her mouth, tears spilling over her cheeks. "Oh, God. He knew. Carlo knew all along."

"Knew what?" I asked, looking between them.

Luca looked at me, his eyes dark with a sudden, devastating grief. "My father didn't die of a heart attack, Emily. Carlo Bellini poisoned him."

The room went dead silent.

"And that's not all," Luca continued, his voice hollow. "The letter says Carlo didn't just target my father. He targeted the only person my father trusted with his ledgers."

Luca turned his gaze to me.

"Your father, Emily."

My stomach dropped. "We already know that. You said Carlo cut my dad's brakes."

"He did," Luca said. "But the letter says your father survived the initial crash. He dragged himself out of the car. Carlo’s men found him on the side of the road."

I felt the room spin. "No..."

"Emily, they didn't just leave him there," Luca said, his voice breaking. "Your father offered them a deal. He promised to give Carlo the offshore accounts if they let you and your brother live."

Teresa wept silently on the couch.

"My dad gave them the accounts?" I whispered.

"No," Luca said. "He gave them fake accounts. He gave them a decoy ledger to buy time. But Carlo found out. And according to this letter... Carlo didn't kill your father. He took him."

I stopped breathing. "Took him where?"

Luca looked back at the wooden box. He reached inside and pulled out something else. A small, tarnished silver object.

He held it out to me.

It was a pocket watch. I recognized the engraving on the front instantly. A.P. To the end of time. My mother had given it to my father on their wedding day.

"The letter says," Luca swallowed hard, "your father has been locked in a Bellini safehouse in Palermo, Italy, for twenty years. They kept him alive to torture him for the real codes."

My knees buckled. Luca caught me, holding me tightly against his chest as a scream tore itself from my throat.