THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME REMOVE A BLACK SERVER'S APRON FROM HIS SEVENTY-EIGHT-YEAR-OLD MOTHER DURING HIS ENGAGEMENT DINNER—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “SHE BEGGED TO HELP THE STAFF,” BEFORE HE EVEN ASKED WHY HIS MOTHER'S HANDS WERE SHAKING, HER DINNER PLATE WAS MISSING,

Luca stared at the platinum watch sitting beside the crystal wine glasses.

It was the watch he had given Michael for his thirtieth birthday.

"Where did you get that?" Luca asked, his voice deceptively calm.

Vanessa smiled. It wasn't a nervous smile anymore. It was the smile of a woman who had just trapped her prey.

"Michael gave it to me."

"Why?"

"As collateral." Vanessa picked up her champagne glass and took a slow sip. "He needed me to cover up a little mistake he made last night."

Teresa gripped the edges of the table, her knuckles white. "My Michael is a good boy. He doesn't make those kinds of mistakes."

"Oh, Teresa," Vanessa sneered. "Your boys aren't the saints you think they are."

Luca didn't look at his mother. He kept his eyes locked on Vanessa. "What did he do?"

Vanessa walked around the table, trailing her fingers along the backs of the empty chairs.

"He borrowed a very large sum of money from my father’s company. Without asking. And he lost it all."

Mrs. Bellini nodded proudly from her seat. "Two million dollars, to be exact. If we press charges, Michael faces ten years for embezzlement."

I stood frozen near the serving cart.

Two million dollars?

Luca studied the watch. He didn't look panicked. He looked analytical.

"My brother is the CFO of my company," Luca said slowly. "He has full access to my accounts. If he needed two million dollars, he could have taken it from me. Why would he steal from your father's failing real estate firm?"

Vanessa’s hand jerked, spilling a drop of champagne onto the white tablecloth.

The reversal hit the room like a physical blow.

Mrs. Bellini’s smug expression vanished.

"Our firm is not failing," Vanessa snapped.

Luca ignored her. He picked up the platinum watch.

He turned it over in his hand, inspecting the clasp.

Then he rubbed his thumb across the back of the watch face.

When he lifted his hand, his thumb was stained with a dark, rusted brown.

Blood.

"There's dried blood on this watch," Luca said quietly.

Teresa gasped, pressing a hand to her mouth. "Luca…"

Vanessa took a step back. "He… he cut his hand when he gave it to me."

"No," a new voice said from the doorway.

Everyone turned.

Michael Moretti stood in the archway of the dining room.

His expensive suit was wrinkled. He had a dark bruise along his jawline, and his left arm was in a sling.

But he wasn't looking at Vanessa.

He was holding the hand of a little boy.

The boy was seven years old, wearing a small, wrinkled sweater, clutching a piece of drawing paper against his chest. His wide, terrified eyes scanned the room until they landed on Teresa.

"Nonna," the little boy whispered.

Teresa burst into tears. "Leo!"

I felt the breath leave my lungs.

Vanessa had told the staff that Michael didn't have any children. She had explicitly ordered us never to mention a child.

"Michael," Luca said, his voice tightening for the first time all evening. "What happened to you?"