THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME PICK UP A CRUMPLED BLUE ENVELOPE FROM BESIDE HIS EIGHT-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER AT HIS ENGAGEMENT DINNER—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “IT'S JUST AN OLD LETTER FROM HER DEAD MOTHER,” BEFORE HE EVEN ASKED WHY THE LITTLE GIRL WAS CRYING.

Vanessa leveled the gun directly at Emily’s chest.

"Step away from her, Helen," Vanessa commanded, her voice steady.

I planted myself firmly in front of the little girl, spreading my arms wide. "You’ll have to shoot me first."

"Gladly." Vanessa’s finger tightened on the trigger.

BANG.

The gunshot echoed through the kitchen, deafening in the tiled room.

I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the impact.

But the pain never came.

Instead, a scream tore from Vanessa’s throat.

I opened my eyes. Vanessa had dropped the gun. She was clutching her right hand, blood pouring through her fingers.

Standing in the doorway was Luca.

He was breathing heavily, his white shirt torn and stained with blood. He held a secondary, smaller pistol—an ankle piece—still smoking in his hand.

"Don't you ever point a weapon at my daughter again," Luca snarled.

He walked forward, kicking the dropped gun across the floor, and grabbed Vanessa by the throat, pinning her violently against the stainless-steel refrigerator.

Vanessa gasped for air, her eyes wide with sudden terror.

"You killed my wife," Luca whispered, his voice shaking with a rage so profound it terrified me. "You took her from me. And you tried to take my daughter."

"Luca... please..." Vanessa choked out. "My father... he'll kill you..."

"Your father is bleeding out on my study floor," Luca said coldly. "He's not going to save you."

He pressed the barrel of his gun against Vanessa's forehead.

I covered Emily's eyes. I didn't want her to see her father become a murderer.

But Emily pulled my hand away.

"Daddy, don't!" Emily cried out.

Luca froze. He looked over his shoulder at his daughter.

"She hurt Mommy," Emily sobbed, clutching her mother's blanket. "But Mommy said we have to be good. She said we have to be brave."

Luca stared at his little girl. The monster inside him, the ruthless mafia boss that Anthony and Vanessa had tried to provoke, broke against the pure, innocent plea of his child.

He slowly lowered the gun.

He released Vanessa's throat. She collapsed to the floor, weeping and clutching her bleeding hand.

"Helen," Luca said, his voice exhausted. "Call the police. Tell them Anthony Bellini and his men broke into my home and tried to assassinate my family. Tell them Vanessa Bellini murdered my wife, and I have the medical records to prove it."

"Yes, sir," I said, hurrying toward the wall phone.

"You have no proof I killed her!" Vanessa shrieked from the floor. "It's your word against mine! A mob boss against a grieving nurse!"

Luca looked down at her. "I have the security footage. Marco disabled the cameras tonight, but he wasn't here four years ago. I keep archives, Vanessa."

Her face went completely white. She knew it was over.

Within minutes, sirens wailed outside the mansion. Red and blue lights flashed through the kitchen windows.

The police stormed the house. They found Anthony upstairs, severely beaten but alive, and arrested him and his men. They dragged Vanessa out in handcuffs. She didn't say a word.

When the house was finally quiet, the sun was beginning to rise.

The mansion was a wreck. Glass was everywhere, blood stained the rugs, and the beautiful engagement decorations were trampled into the floor.

Luca sat on the edge of the hearth in the living room, holding Emily in his lap. She had finally fallen asleep, her head resting against his chest.

I brought him a hot cup of coffee.

"Thank you, Helen," he said quietly, taking the mug. "For everything. You saved her life tonight."

"She's like my own granddaughter, Mr. Moretti," I smiled sadly. "I would do anything for her."

He looked down at Emily's sleeping face. "I'm going to leave the syndicate, Helen. I'm turning state's evidence. I'll give the Feds everything they need to dismantle the Chicago families. It's the only way we'll ever be truly safe."

I gasped. "Mr. Moretti, if you do that, you'll have to go into witness protection. You'll lose everything."

"I already have everything that matters," he said, holding Emily tighter.

He reached into Emily's coat pocket to adjust the blanket, but his hand brushed against something.

He pulled it out.

It was a small, pink notebook.

"What's this?" Luca frowned, opening the cover.

I recognized it. Emily carried it everywhere. It was where she drew pictures and wrote down things she wanted to remember about her mother.

But as Luca flipped to the last page, his breath hitched.

A piece of paper was folded and tucked inside.

It wasn't Emily's handwriting.

It was Katherine's.

Written on the familiar pale-blue stationery.