THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME PULL A MEASURING TAPE FROM AROUND HIS THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER'S WAIST DURING HIS ENGAGEMENT DINNER

"Where did you get this?" Luca demanded, his voice a dangerous, terrifying rumble.

He held the letter toward Vanessa, his knuckles white. The accusation on the parchment was explosive. It accused the head of the Moretti family of orchestrating his own wife's murder.

Vanessa smiled, a cruel, triumphant smirk. "I told you. I found it under her mattress. Caroline must have hidden it for her before the car accident."

"She didn't!" Abigail sobbed, clinging to my arm. "I didn't find it until last month! It was tucked inside my mother's old jewelry box!"

Luca looked at his daughter. The betrayal and confusion in his eyes were agonizing.

"Abby," Luca said softly, kneeling in front of her. "Do you really believe I hurt your mother?"

Abigail shook her head frantically. "No! Daddy, no! But the letter had her name on it! And Vanessa said if I showed it to you, you would send me to an orphanage to keep the secret!"

Luca slowly closed his eyes. The breath shuddered out of his massive frame.

Vanessa had used the forged letter to terrorize a thirteen-year-old girl into complete submission. She hadn't just attacked Abigail’s body; she had attacked her trust in her only remaining parent.

"Marco," Luca said, his voice deadly quiet.

The head of security stepped forward. "Yes, Boss."

"Escort Miss Bellini to the front gates. Without her luggage. If she tries to re-enter the estate, break her legs."

Vanessa gasped. "Luca! The letter proves your wife was turning her against you!"

"The letter," Luca said, stepping closer to Vanessa until she was pressed against the mahogany buffet, "is a forgery."

Vanessa froze. "What?"

"My wife was left-handed," Luca said coldly. "Her ink always smudged on the left margins. This letter is perfectly clean. And Caroline never called me 'the man you call your father.' She called me 'Luca.' Always."

He shoved the paper into his pocket. "Get her out of my sight."

As Marco dragged a screaming Vanessa out of the dining room, the heavy oak doors slamming shut behind them, Luca turned to me.

"Emily. Take Abigail to her room. Lock the door. Do not let anyone inside except me."

"Yes, Mr. Moretti," I whispered.

I guided a trembling Abigail up the grand staircase. Her pale-blue dress dragged against the carpet. When we reached her room, I locked the heavy deadbolt just as Luca had instructed.

Abigail immediately ran to her bed and pulled out a thick, leather-bound book from under her pillow.

It was her pressed flower collection.

She sat on the edge of the mattress, frantically flipping through the pages.

"Miss Emily," she cried. "Vanessa lied. She didn't find the letter under my mattress."

I sat beside her, gently wiping her tears. "Where did she find it, sweetheart?"

Abigail opened the book to the middle. Between the yellowed pages lay dried roses and crushed violets. But in the center of the book, a large square had been carefully cut out of the pages, creating a hidden compartment.

The compartment was empty.

"My mom gave me this book the night before she died," Abigail whispered. "She told me never to show anyone the secret page. But Vanessa caught me looking at it yesterday. She took what was inside."

My heart pounded. "What was inside, Abigail? Was it the letter?"

Abigail shook her head. "No. The letter was just folded in my jewelry box. The book had something else."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the small silver bracelet.

"My mom told me the bracelet was the key," Abigail said. She showed me the tiny engraved flowers on the silver links. "Look."

I leaned in. The flowers weren't just decorative. There were numbers faintly etched into the petals.

4 - 9 - 2 - 1.

"It's a combination," I realized.

"Yes," Abigail sniffled. "And the thing Vanessa stole from the book... it had the same numbers on the back."

Before I could ask what it was, a heavy knock echoed against the bedroom door.

"Emily. It's Luca."

I rushed to unlock it. Luca stepped inside. He had removed his tie and unbuttoned his collar. The Mafia boss looked exhausted, running a hand through his dark hair.

He sat in the velvet armchair opposite the bed. He looked at the fake letter in his hand.

"Someone planted this in her jewelry box," Luca said quietly. "Someone who wanted to drive a wedge between us. Someone who wanted Abigail out of this house."

He looked up at me. "Emily. You clean these rooms. Who else has access to my daughter's jewelry box?"

My mouth went completely dry.

The handwriting on the fake letter belonged to my mother. I was absolutely certain of it. The way the 'T' crossed, the sharp angle of the 'y'. But my mother hadn't been in this house in ten years.

Wait.

"Mr. Moretti," I stammered. "I... I need to tell you something."

Luca narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"Before I took this job," I said, my voice shaking, "my mother worked for your family. Her name is Sarah Sullivan."

Luca went completely still.

"Sarah Sullivan?" he repeated.

"Yes," I swallowed hard. "She told me she was a housekeeper."

Luca stood up slowly. "Your mother wasn't a housekeeper, Emily."

My stomach dropped. "She wasn't?"

"No," Luca said, his voice turning to ice. "Sarah Sullivan was my wife's private hospice nurse. She was the last person to see Caroline alive before the car accident."