**THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME PULL A DINING CHAIR OUT FOR HIS SIXTY-ONE-YEAR-OLD FORMER RESTAURANT MANAGER DURING HIS ENGAGEMENT DINNER—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “HE'S HERE TO ASK FOR MONEY, NOT A SEAT,” BEFORE HE EVEN ASKED WHY THE MAN WHO HAD STOOD BESIDE HIS FAMILY FOR TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS WAS HOLDING THE ORIGINAL BRASS BELL FROM THEIR FIRST RESTAURANT.**

The dial tone echoed loudly in the dining room.

Two million dollars. By tomorrow morning.

I felt the blood drain from my face. My mother was recovering in a small apartment on the south side. She was fragile. If Vincent Bellini’s men went to collect her…

"He can't do that," I whispered, panic rising in my chest.

"He can," Vanessa said.

She wasn't yelling anymore. A slow, triumphant smile spread across her face. She smoothed her red silk gown and looked at Luca.

"My father always plans three steps ahead, Luca. You think you can just write a check and play the hero? The Moretti family's cash flow is tied up in the shipping ports. You don't have two million in liquid assets by morning."

Luca stared at his fiancé.

"You knew about this."

Vanessa tilted her head. "I knew my father was securing our future. The restaurant is a prime piece of real estate. Once he clears out the old staff—and the old debts—it will be a gold mine for our new family."

Arthur stepped forward, his fists clenched at his sides.

"You would let a sick woman be thrown onto the street for a venue hall?"

"It's business, Arthur," Vanessa sneered. "Something you never understood."

Luca didn't scream. He didn't throw his phone.

He carefully picked up the original brass bell from the table.

"Arthur," Luca said calmly. "Is the old restaurant empty right now?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes, sir. The staff went home at closing."

Luca turned to his head of security, a massive man named Rossi standing by the door.

"Rossi. Clear the room. The engagement dinner is over."

The thirty-two guests gasped, murmuring in outrage.

Vanessa stepped in front of Luca.

"You can't kick my friends out! We are getting married in two months!"

Luca looked at her, his eyes cold and empty.

"We aren't getting married, Vanessa. Take off the ring."

Vanessa gasped, clutching her left hand. "Luca, you can't be serious! Over a waitress and a maid?"

"Over loyalty," Luca corrected. "Something your family knows nothing about. Leave the ring on the table."

Tears of fury sprang to Vanessa's eyes. She ripped the diamond off her finger and slammed it onto the mahogany table.

"My father will destroy you," she hissed.

"Tell him to try," Luca said.

As Rossi ushered the stunned guests out of the room, Luca turned to me.

"Megan, go get your coat. We're going to the restaurant."

I blinked. "Now?"

"Vincent said I need two million by morning," Luca said, picking up the small brass key Arthur had brought. "If my father knew this day would come, he didn't just leave a list of names in his desk. He left a way to pay for it."

Ten minutes later, I stood in the grand hallway, buttoning my cheap wool coat.

Arthur stood beside me, holding the silver pocket watch.

Luca strode down the stairs, shrugging on a heavy black overcoat.

"Rossi is pulling the car around," Luca said.

But as we walked toward the front doors, Arthur stopped.

He was staring at the coat rack in the corner of the foyer.

"Mr. Moretti," Arthur said, his voice trembling.

"What is it, Arthur?"

Arthur pointed to a heavy, expensive trench coat hanging on the rack.

"Whose coat is that?"

Luca frowned. "It belongs to Vincent Bellini. He left it here during a meeting last week. Why?"

Arthur walked over to the coat.