THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED HIS FIANCÉE TAKE MY CHAIR AWAY FROM HIS ENGAGEMENT DINNER TABLE—THEN SHE SAID, “SHE STOPPED WRITING TO HER GRANDSON MONTHS AGO,” BEFORE HE EVEN ASKED WHY I WAS STANDING THERE HOLDING TWELVE UNOPENED BIRTHDAY CARDS

The First National Bank of Westbridge was a massive stone fortress in the center of the financial district. At three in the morning, it should have been completely deserted.

But when Luca’s armored SUV screeched to a halt on the wet pavement outside, the heavy glass doors of the bank were already shattered.

“He’s inside,” Luca said, stepping out into the rain.

I opened the passenger door and stepped out behind him.

“Eleanor, get back in the truck,” Luca ordered, not looking back. “Daniel and Noah are waiting for you at the safe house.”

“I’m not sitting in a safe house while the man who terrorized my daughter destroys her final act of bravery,” I said stubbornly, pulling the heavy collar of my coat up against the rain. “Claire hid that key for a reason. I am going to see what it opens.”

Luca looked at my defiant expression. He didn’t argue. He just nodded and gestured for me to stay close behind him.

We stepped over the shattered glass and entered the cavernous, silent lobby of the bank. The security guards were tied up behind the teller counters, unconscious but breathing.

Down the grand marble staircase, the heavy steel door of the main vault had been blown open with thermite. The smell of scorched metal and sulfur burned my throat.

We descended the stairs quietly.

Inside the vault, Marco Moretti stood in front of an open safety deposit box. He was wearing a dark trench coat, his face older and crueler than the photographs I had seen of him. He was holding a thick, black leather-bound book.

The ledger.

“Drop it, Marco,” Luca said, raising his gun, the red laser sight settling directly on Marco’s chest.

Marco didn’t flinch. He slowly turned around, a smug smile spreading across his face.

“Luca,” Marco chuckled, tossing the heavy ledger onto the steel table in the center of the vault. “You’re too late. I’ve already read it. It has the bank account numbers, the wire transfers, the bribes to the Mayor. Everything.”

“Then step away from it,” Luca commanded.

Marco reached into his coat. Luca tensed, but Marco didn’t pull a gun.

He pulled out a silver lighter.

“If I burn this book right here, right now, there is no proof,” Marco said, flicking the lighter open. The small flame illuminated the dark vault. “The FBI has nothing. The Mayor stays in power, and he hands the city’s development contracts directly to me. I win.”

“You’re standing in a concrete box with my gun pointed at your heart,” Luca said coldly. “You haven’t won anything.”

“Oh, but I have leverage,” Marco smiled. He looked past Luca, directly at me. “Hello, Eleanor.”

I glared at him, refusing to shrink back. “You’re a monster.”

“I’m a businessman,” Marco corrected. He turned back to Luca. “Did you know your lovely wife Claire figured out my little secret three weeks before she died?”

Luca’s jaw clenched. “What secret?”

“She found out I was alive,” Marco said. “She saw me meeting with Arthur Harris. She confronted Arthur. She demanded the truth. Arthur panicked and gave her the safety deposit key to keep her quiet. He told her the ledger was the only thing keeping our father safe.”

My heart broke. Claire had carried this massive, terrifying secret all alone to protect Luca.

“She was going to take the ledger to the feds,” Marco sneered. “That’s why I had Vanessa run her off the road. She was a liability.”

Luca’s finger tightened on the trigger. “Give me one reason not to put a bullet through your head right now.”

“Because of the Mayor,” Marco said calmly. “If I don’t call him in exactly five minutes to tell him the ledger is destroyed, he is going to make a phone call of his own.”

Marco pulled his cell phone out with his free hand and tossed it onto the table next to the ledger.

“He’s going to call his hit squad,” Marco smiled. “And they are currently parked directly outside the safe house where Daniel took your son.”

The blood drained from Luca’s face.

“If you kill me, Luca, your son dies,” Marco said. “So, lower the gun. Let me burn the book, and you can walk away with the boy. You lose the empire, but you keep your family. It’s a fair trade.”

Luca stood frozen. His eyes darted from Marco to the ledger, and then to the phone on the table.

He was trapped. He had to choose between exposing the men who killed his wife, or saving the life of his son.

Marco slowly moved the flame of the lighter closer to the pages of the ledger. “Tick tock, little brother.”

But Marco made one fatal mistake.

He had forgotten about the retired school teacher standing in the shadows.

I didn’t have a gun. I didn’t have mafia training. But I had my heavy, thick-soled orthotic shoe, and I was standing right next to the bank’s emergency fire suppression alarm on the wall.

I slammed my fist into the glass box, shattering it, and yanked the red lever down with all my might.

The vault’s automated Halon gas and sprinkler system activated instantly.

A massive blast of freezing water and chemical foam exploded from the ceiling directly over the metal table.

Marco shrieked as the water soaked the ledger, extinguishing his lighter instantly.

In the sudden chaos of the spraying water, Luca didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, tackling his brother to the cold tile floor.

Marco swung wildly, but Luca was fueled by a decade of grief and rage. He pinned Marco down, delivering a sickening blow across his jaw that knocked the older brother completely unconscious.

The sprinklers shut off, leaving the vault dripping and silent.

Luca stood up, panting heavily. He grabbed Marco’s phone from the table. It had a waterproof case. He dialed the number on the screen.

“Daniel,” Luca barked into the phone. “Are you at the safe house?”

“Yes, Boss. We just arrived.”

“Is there a black van parked outside?”

“Yes, sir. Across the street.”

“Take them out,” Luca ordered. “Do not let them near my son.”

Gunfire echoed briefly through the phone line, followed by the sound of tires screeching.

“Threat neutralized, Boss,” Daniel panted. “The boy is safe.”

Luca dropped the phone. He leaned against the steel wall of the vault, sliding down until he was sitting on the wet floor. He put his head in his hands, his broad shoulders shaking.

I walked over to the table and picked up the wet, but completely intact, ledger.

Then I walked over to the terrifying mafia boss, sat down on the wet floor next to him, and pulled him into a hug.

“It’s over, Luca,” I whispered, resting my chin on his shoulder. “You saved him.”