THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME SERVE HIS ENGAGEMENT DINNER WITH A BLOODY BANDAGE WRAPPED AROUND MY HAND—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “SHE CUT HERSE

I stared through the peephole, my blood running completely cold.

Antonio Moretti stood in the hallway of the cheap motel, leaning heavily on his silver cane. He looked older, frail, and desperate. He was alone.

My hands shook as I unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door just a few inches, keeping the chain lock engaged.

"What do you want?" I demanded, my voice tight with fear. "How did you find me?"

Antonio didn't try to push the door open. He simply looked at me with hollow, exhausted eyes.

"I paid a lot of money to keep tabs on you, Emma," the old man rasped. "I knew Luca went to the depository last night. I knew you would run once you found out what Carlo sent him."

"If you're here to kill me to protect the casino deed, you're too late," I snapped, angry tears springing to my eyes. "Luca already has the proof."

Antonio let out a bitter, raspy laugh. "I didn't forge the deed, Emma. And I didn't murder your father."

I froze. "Carlo’s letter said—"

"Carlo is a manipulative snake who wants to destroy my son's happiness from inside a prison cell," Antonio interrupted, his voice gaining strength. "Yes, I was a coward twelve years ago. Yes, I turned a blind eye when Carlo took Rosa. But I didn't kill Thomas Collins."

He reached into his tailored coat pocket and pulled out a small, old journal wrapped in leather. He held it up to the crack in the door.

"What is that?" I asked suspiciously.

"This is Carlo’s personal ledger. I stole it from him twenty years ago, which is why he always hated me," Antonio explained. "The casino land was never owned by your family, Emma. It was owned by Carlo. But Carlo used your father’s name as a shell corporation to launder the money to buy it."

My mind raced. "So my father was involved?"

"Your father didn't know," Antonio said softly. "He was just a driver. Carlo used his signature. When your father found out about the money laundering, he threatened to go to the police. That is why Carlo killed him. And that is why Carlo sent that letter to Luca—to make you believe the Moretti family is responsible, so you would leave him."

I stared at the old man, my heart pounding in my chest.

Carlo hadn't just murdered my father; he was trying to ruin my life from behind bars by making me hate the man I loved.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked, eyeing Antonio cautiously. "Luca exiled you. You owe him nothing."

Antonio looked down at his silver cane. "I am a terrible man, Emma. I failed my wife. I failed my son. But last night, one of my contacts in the Russian syndicate tipped me off. Carlo didn't just send a letter to Luca. He sent a hit squad to the Swiss depository."

The air in my lungs vanished. "What?"

"It was a trap," Antonio said, his eyes filled with genuine terror. "Carlo knew Luca wouldn't send his men. He knew Luca would go himself to retrieve the documents. He lured my son to the depository to execute him."

Panic exploded in my chest. I slammed the door shut, fumbled with the chain lock, and threw the door wide open.

"We have to call Daniel!" I shouted, grabbing my phone.

"I already did," Antonio said grimly. "Daniel’s team is ten minutes away. But the depository is on fire, Emma. The Russians blew the vault doors."

I didn't wait to hear another word. I didn't even grab my coat.

I bolted down the motel hallway, sprinting out into the early morning light. Antonio had a black town car waiting at the curb with a driver. I threw myself into the backseat.

"Get in!" I screamed at the old man.

Antonio climbed in, and we sped toward downtown Chicago.

I dialed Luca’s number again and again. Straight to voicemail. I dialed Daniel. No answer.

Tears streamed down my face. I had left him. He was walking into a death trap because he wanted to prove his loyalty to me, and I had abandoned him without a second thought.

"Please be alive," I whispered, clutching my phone against my chest. "Please, God, let him be alive."

We turned the corner onto LaSalle Street, and my heart stopped.

The private Swiss depository building was engulfed in thick, black smoke. Fire trucks surrounded the block, their sirens wailing. The heavy brass doors of the bank had been blown off their hinges, scattering glass and debris across the street.

I threw the car door open before we even stopped and sprinted toward the police barricades.

"Luca!" I screamed, fighting against a police officer who grabbed my waist to hold me back. "Let me go! He’s in there!"

"Ma'am, the building is compromised!" the officer yelled over the roar of the flames. "Nobody is coming out of there!"

I collapsed against the wooden barricade, sobbing uncontrollably. The smoke stung my eyes, the heat of the fire washing over my face.

It was over. Carlo had won. He took my father, and now he had taken Luca.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from the alleyway next to the bank.

The crowd gasped.

Through the thick, billowing smoke, a massive silhouette appeared.

He was limping heavily, his tailored suit torn and covered in white ash. He carried a heavy assault rifle in one hand, and a metal lockbox in the other.

It was Luca.

"Luca!" I screamed, tearing out of the police officer’s grip.

I ran past the barricades, sprinting across the glass-covered street.

Luca dropped the rifle and the lockbox. He fell to his knees on the pavement, coughing heavily, his face bruised and bleeding.

I crashed into him, throwing my arms around his neck, sobbing wildly into his ash-covered shoulder.

"You’re alive," I cried, holding him so tightly my arms ached. "You’re alive."

Luca wrapped his massive arms around my waist, burying his face in my neck, breathing in the scent of my hair.

"I told you," he rasped, his voice rough from the smoke. "I promised you. No more lies."

He pulled back slightly, his dark eyes locking onto mine.

"I didn't steal your father's land, Emma," he whispered, desperate for me to believe him.

"I know," I cried, kissing his bruised cheek. "Your father told me. I know it was a trap. I am so sorry I ran. I am so sorry."

Luca smiled, a weary, beautiful smile, and pressed his forehead against mine.

As the paramedics rushed over to us, Daniel’s black SUVs screeched to a halt at the edge of the street. Daniel jumped out, looking frantically at the burning building before spotting Luca.

"Boss!" Daniel yelled, running over. "We caught the Russian hit squad two blocks away. Carlo’s inside man is dead."

Luca nodded slowly, still holding me tight.

"It's over, Daniel," Luca said, his voice ringing with absolute finality. "Carlo plays no more games. Have the guards at the federal prison handle him permanently tonight."

Daniel nodded grimly. "Consider it done, Boss."

Luca looked over my shoulder. He saw his father, Antonio, standing by the black town car, watching from a distance.

Luca didn't yell. He didn't order his men to shoot him. He simply gave his father a slow, solemn nod of respect for warning me.

Antonio nodded back, turned around, and got into the car, disappearing into the city forever.

Luca looked back at me. He reached down to the pavement and picked up the metal lockbox he had dragged out of the burning vault.

"What's in there?" I asked, wiping the tears from my eyes.

Luca popped the latch.

Inside wasn't a forged deed. It wasn't cartel money.