THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED HIS FIANCÉE MAKE ME THROW AWAY A SLICE OF CAKE I’D WRAPPED FOR HIS ELDERLY DRIVER—THEN SHE SAID, “HE'S BEEN SNEAKING FOOD HOME TO HIS WIFE,” BEFORE LUCA EVEN ASKED WHY THE OLD MAN WAS CRYING.** "Put that cake in the trash, Hannah

The silence in the dining room felt heavy enough to shatter the crystal glasses on the tables.

Luca Moretti didn't move.

He didn't blink.

He just stared at Walter, the old man clutching the faded photograph of his bride against his chest.

"You don't have to tell her, Walter," Luca said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, terrifying calm. "Because nobody is taking that cottage. Not tomorrow. Not ever."

Vanessa stepped forward, her silk dress rustling sharply. "Luca, be reasonable. The contractors are already scheduled for Monday. The demolition permits are signed."

Luca slowly turned toward her.

"Demolition?"

The word echoed off the high ceiling.

Vanessa’s throat shifted. "It's just an old shack. My father’s firm drew up the blueprints for the new guest suites. It’s an upgrade."

"You ordered the demolition of a home my father built?" Luca’s eyes darkened. "Without asking me?"

"You said I had full control of the estate renovations!" Vanessa’s voice rose, shrill and defensive. "Walter is a driver. He doesn't need prime real estate on this property."

"He needs his home," Luca said coldly. He looked at his head of security. "Daniel. Call the contractors. Cancel the permits. If anyone steps foot near the south gardens, break their legs."

"Yes, Mr. Moretti," Daniel nodded, pulling out his phone.

Vanessa’s face turned scarlet. She looked around the room at the twenty-six guests, all of them staring at her in stunned silence.

"You're humiliating me," she hissed. "Over a driver."

"You humiliated yourself," Luca replied softly. "Now excuse me. I need to check on Walter."

Luca walked out of the room, leaving his fiancée standing alone under the chandeliers.

I quickly followed, pushing the dessert cart toward the kitchen. My heart was pounding. I had never seen Luca Moretti so openly defy Vanessa. Everyone knew the Bellini family was dangerous. Vanessa’s father was a ruthless man. This wasn't just a wedding; it was a merger of two powerful syndicates.

As I pushed through the swinging doors into the kitchen, I saw the blue metal tin Walter had left behind on the counter.

The dented tin he’d brought for the cake.

I rushed over to grab it. I could run out to the driveway and catch him before Daniel drove him home.

But as I picked up the tin, the lid rattled.

It wasn't empty.

I carefully pulled the lid off. Inside, resting on a folded napkin, wasn't a crumb of cake.

It was a heavy, rusted iron key.

Attached to it was a faded yellow tag with faded handwriting: Floorboards. 1998.

"What are you looking at, Hannah?"

I jumped, spinning around.

Vanessa was standing in the kitchen doorway. Her eyes were fixed on the tin in my hands. The embarrassment from the dining room was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating greed.

"Nothing, Miss Bellini," I stammered, trying to close the lid. "Just Walter’s tin."

"Give it to me."

"It belongs to Mr. Dawson."

Vanessa stepped closer, grabbing my wrist with surprising strength. Her perfectly manicured nails dug into my skin.

"Walter didn't bring that tin for cake," Vanessa whispered, her eyes flashing toward the rusted key. "He brought it to sneak that key out of the main house. Because he knows what my father is looking for."

She yanked the tin from my hands.

"Tell Luca about this," she threatened, "and I’ll make sure your mother loses her apartment by morning."

She turned and marched out the back exit.

I stood frozen.

Then I heard a deep voice behind me.