THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME PULL A CRUSHED YELLOW ROSE FROM HIS TEN-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER'S TREMBLING HAND DURING HIS ENGAGEMENT DINNER—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “SHE DESTROYED MY FLOWERS BECAUSE SHE'S JEALOUS,” BEFORE HE EVEN ASKED WHY THE LITTLE GIRL WAS COVERED IN DIRT, HER WHITE PARTY DRESS WAS RUINED

The chandelier lights felt too bright.

Thirty-two guests were staring at me as if I were a ghost.

Vanessa seized the moment, her voice sharp with sudden victory.

"She’s a fraud, Luca! I told you she was undermining us. She probably planted that box herself!"

Luca didn't look at her.

His dark eyes remained fixed on me.

"Rebecca," he said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "Take the letter."

My hands shook as I reached across the table.

My fingers brushed his. His skin was ice cold.

I looked down at the envelope.

The ink was slightly faded, but the cursive was unmistakable. I had seen it on the back of old photographs Emma kept in her room.

It was Caroline’s handwriting.

"Open it," Luca commanded.

I slid my finger under the flap. The paper was crisp, preserved perfectly in the waterproof tin.

I pulled out a single sheet of stationery.

At the top was a small, hand-painted yellow rose.

The room was so silent I could hear the paper crinkling in my trembling hands.

I began to read out loud.

"Dear Rebecca, if you are reading this, it means my beautiful Emma has shown you her garden. And it means you kept my promise to your mother."

I stopped.

The air rushed out of my lungs.

"Your mother?" Luca asked, stepping closer.

Tears instantly flooded my eyes.

"My mother is Mary Hayes," I whispered.

Vanessa let out a sharp gasp.

Luca’s head snapped toward his fiancée, then back to me.

"Mary Hayes was Caroline's private hospice nurse," Luca said, his voice dropping. "She cared for my wife during her final six months."

I nodded, a tear slipping down my cheek.

"She is, sir. But she was fired two weeks before Mrs. Moretti passed away."

Luca frowned. "I didn't fire her. I was at the hospital. I was told Mary quit without notice."

"She didn't quit," I sobbed. "She was forced out. Someone threatened to have her nursing license revoked if she didn't leave immediately."

Luca went completely still.

He turned his head slowly.

Vanessa had taken a step backward, bumping into her chair.

"Vanessa," Luca said softly. "You weren't even living in Chicago back then. You told me we met at a charity gala two years ago."

Vanessa swallowed hard. "We did, darling. She’s lying."

I looked back down at the letter.

"I am leaving this box because I know what Vanessa is trying to do," Caroline’s letter continued. "Mary warned me, but I was too weak to stop her. Vanessa didn't just meet Luca at a gala. She has been watching my family for years."

Emma buried her face in her father's leg.

Luca read the words over my shoulder. His jaw tightened so hard I thought it might break.

"The key in this box," I read, my voice shaking, "opens the locked mahogany drawer in Luca’s study. The one I lost the key to. I found out what Vanessa was hiding in there. Please, Rebecca. Protect my daughter."

I lowered the letter.

Luca reached into the rusted tin and picked up the heavy silver key.

He looked at Vanessa.

Vanessa’s face had twisted into pure panic.

"Luca, you cannot believe the ramblings of a dying woman and a maid!"

"The study is upstairs," Luca said, his voice devoid of all emotion.

"Luca, no! Our guests—"

"Dinner is over," Luca announced to the room.

He didn't raise his voice, but the finality in it made several people immediately stand to leave.

Luca looked at me. "Come with me, Rebecca."

Then he reached down and scooped Emma into his arms.

"No, Luca!" Vanessa lunged forward, grabbing his sleeve. "That drawer has my private financial documents! You have no right!"

Luca looked at her hand on his jacket.

Then he looked at her face.

"If you ever touch me again," he whispered, "I will have you arrested for trespassing."

Vanessa recoiled as if she’d been burned.

We left the dining room.

The heavy oak stairs creaked as we walked up to the second floor.

My heart was hammering against my ribs.

My mother had cried for months after losing this job. She lost her pension, her reputation. She had always told me she was framed, but she was too terrified of the Moretti name to fight back.

We reached the heavy doors of the study.

Luca set Emma down. "Stay behind me, baby."

He walked over to the massive mahogany desk.

The bottom right drawer had been locked for years. I knew because Vanessa had ordered me to find a locksmith to open it "discreetly" just last week. I had told her I couldn't find one.

Luca slid the silver key into the old brass lock.

It turned with a heavy click.

He pulled the drawer open.

There were no financial documents.

There was a thick manila folder.

Luca opened it.

Dozens of photographs spilled across the desk.

I gasped.

They were pictures of Luca. Pictures of Caroline. Pictures of baby Emma.

Taken from the street. Through windows. At parks.

Years before Vanessa officially "met" him.

But that wasn't what made Luca stop breathing.