THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME HELP HIS SEVENTY-FOUR-YEAR-OLD CHAUFFEUR OUT OF THE RAIN DURING HIS ENGAGEMENT DINNER—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “HE WAS FIRED FOR STEALING,” BEFORE HE EVEN ASKED WHY THE MAN WHO HAD DRIVEN HIS FAMILY FOR FORTY YEARS WAS HOLDING A SMALL BIRTHDAY CAKE.**

The blue and red lights of the police cruisers strobed against the rain-slicked windows of the SUV.

I stared at the small, faded velvet box in my mother’s trembling hand.

Inside sat a simple, scratched gold band.

My father’s wedding ring. The man who raised me. The man who had died in a hit-and-run twenty years ago.

"Where did you get this?" my mother asked Luca, her voice hollow. "They told me it was lost in the accident."

Luca put the SUV in drive and slowly pulled away from the chaos of the precinct, merging into the dark, quiet streets of the city.

He didn't answer immediately.

He gripped the steering wheel, his jaw clenched, the silence heavy and suffocating.

"Luca," I said softly. "Please."

He let out a long, shuddering breath.

"My father didn't just kill Carlo Bellini twenty-eight years ago," Luca began, his voice tight. "He spent the next eight years hunting down anyone who knew about the child."

My blood ran cold.

"Your husband," Luca said, looking at my mother through the rearview mirror, "was a good man. He loved you. He raised a daughter that wasn't his. But my father found out he was the one who helped Carlo hide you in the beginning."

I squeezed my eyes shut.

The hit-and-run. It wasn't an accident.

"My father ordered the hit," Luca confessed. "I was nineteen. I overheard the order. I tried to warn him. I swear to God, Mary, I tried to get to the intersection in time."

Tears spilled down Luca's face, mixing with the rain and blood on his skin.

"I was too late. When I got there, he was already gone. The paramedics had covered him. I bribed the coroner to give me his ring before he was processed. I kept it to remind myself of the monster my father was. To remind myself never to become him."

My mother wept silently in the backseat, clutching the ring to her chest.

Twenty years of grief, finally given a face.

I looked at Luca. He was bracing himself for my hatred. For my anger.

But all I felt was profound sorrow for a boy who had carried the guilt of his father's sins his entire life.

"You tried to save him," I whispered, reaching out and gently placing my hand over his on the steering wheel.

Luca looked at me, stunned.

"I couldn't protect him, Rebecca."

"You protected us tonight," I said.

Before we could say another word, Luca's phone rang through the car’s Bluetooth system.

It was Arthur's cell phone, which was sitting in the back with the old man.

Luca answered it.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Moretti," a smooth, unfamiliar voice echoed through the speakers. "I understand you've had a busy evening."

Luca's expression instantly hardened into stone.

"Who is this?"

"My name is Julian Vance. I am the executor of the Bellini Trust in Zurich."

I stiffened. The eighty million dollars.

"How did you get this number?" Luca demanded.

"Your former fiancée, Miss Vanessa, was quite cooperative before she passed out from blood loss in the trunk of your other vehicle," the lawyer said calmly. "My men intercepted her."

"Your men?"

"I represent the true Bellini interests, Mr. Moretti," Vance continued smoothly. "And I understand you have the other heir in your passenger seat."

"She has nothing to do with this," Luca growled.

"She has everything to do with this," Vance corrected. "The eighty million cannot sit in limbo forever. By Swiss law, if the heirs do not claim it by midnight on the twenty-eighth anniversary of Carlo's death, the funds revert to the state."

I looked at the dashboard clock.

11:15 PM.

Tonight was the twenty-eighth anniversary. We had forty-five minutes.

"I want the money, Mr. Moretti," Vance said. "Bring Rebecca Collins to the private airfield at O'Hare. Sign the release documents. If you do, I will hand over the audio tapes Carlo Bellini recorded before his death. The tapes that prove your father paid off the current Mayor and the Governor."

Luca hit the brakes, pulling the SUV to the side of the road.

"The Mayor?" Luca whispered.

"Absolute immunity for your family, Mr. Moretti. Or absolute destruction. You have forty minutes."

The line went dead.

Luca looked at me. The tapes could buy his family permanent freedom from the law. But it required handing over eighty million dollars to a corrupt lawyer, and putting me in danger again.

"I won't ask you to do this," Luca said immediately. "I'll drive you to a safe house. I'll face Vance myself."

I looked at the velvet ring box in my mother's hands. I looked at the blood on Luca's shoulder.

My father died for this family's secrets. My brother died tonight for the same thing.