THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME SLIP A SHIVERING KITTEN INTO HIS TEN-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER'S JACKET DURING HIS ENGAGEMENT DINNER—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “SHE STOLE IT FROM THE GARDEN,” BEFORE HE EVEN ASKED WHY THE LITTLE GIRL WAS CRYING, HER HANDS WERE COVERED IN SCRATCHES, AND SHE KEPT WHISPERING, “PLEASE DON'T LET THEM TAKE ITS MOTHER TOO.”**

I stared at the crumpled airline ticket in my trembling hand.

Elena Moretti. Geneva, Switzerland.

Dated three months ago.

But Emma's mother had died in a horrific car crash five years ago. Luca had buried an empty casket because the car had burned beyond recognition. Everyone knew the story.

How could a dead woman have a plane ticket from three months ago?

I looked at Emma, who was happily tying her sneakers, completely unaware of the nightmare unfolding around her.

"Miss Rachel?" Emma asked softly, noticing my pale face. "Are you okay?"

I quickly shoved the ticket into my pocket.

"I'm fine, sweetie. Just keep packing."

Vanessa stood impatiently by the door, tapping her foot. "Hurry up, Rachel. We have a flight to catch."

My mind was spinning. If Elena Moretti was alive... if she had been in Switzerland three months ago... that meant Marco wasn't the only one hiding secrets.

Vanessa didn't just want Emma's inheritance. She was taking Emma to Switzerland to use her as leverage.

Leverage against Elena.

I zipped up the duffel bag, my resolve hardening into something cold and sharp. I wasn't going to let this woman take this little girl.

"Emma," I said, keeping my voice incredibly calm. "I forgot Pip's special food downstairs in the pantry. Can you go wait with Vanessa in the hallway while I grab it?"

Vanessa's eyes narrowed. "She can wait in here."

"The kitten will get hungry on the plane, Vanessa," I said smoothly, looking directly at the gun hidden behind her back. "You wouldn't want a crying animal on a private jet, would you?"

Vanessa hesitated, then scoffed. "Fine. Two minutes. Or I leave without you."

She stepped into the hallway, pulling Emma with her.

The second the door closed, I moved.

I didn't go to the kitchen. I went straight to the heavy oak window overlooking the front courtyard.

I unlatched it and pushed it open. The cold rain lashed against my face.

The drop to the garden below was at least twenty feet. Too high to jump.

But growing up the side of the stone mansion was a thick, ancient ivy trellis.

I climbed onto the windowsill, my wet shoes slipping against the stone. I grabbed the thickest vine, praying it would hold my weight, and began climbing down.

The rough bark tore at my hands, leaving them bleeding and stinging, but I didn't stop until my feet hit the muddy grass.

I ran through the darkness toward the front of the estate, hiding behind the massive stone fountains.

I needed to reach Marco's car. I needed his help to storm the house before Vanessa took Emma to the airstrip.

But as I sprinted toward the main gates, a blinding spotlight hit me.

"Stop right there!"

Two of Vanessa's armed guards stepped out from the security booth, raising their rifles.

I froze, throwing my hands in the air.

"Well, well," one of them laughed, walking toward me. "The maid is back. Boss lady said you might try something stupid."

He grabbed me roughly by the arm and dragged me toward the security booth.

"Call Bellini," the guard ordered his partner. "Tell her we caught the rat."

The second guard picked up a radio. "Ms. Bellini, we got her at the front gate."

The radio crackled. "Lock her in the utility shed. I'll deal with her before we leave to the airport."

They dragged me across the wet lawn and threw me into a small, windowless brick shed used for storing pool chemicals.

The heavy iron door slammed shut, plunging me into absolute, suffocating darkness.

The deadbolt clicked into place.

I hit the door with my fists, screaming for help, but the thick brick absorbed every sound.

I slumped against the cold floor, coughing from the harsh smell of chlorine.

I had failed. Vanessa was going to kill Luca, steal Emma, and I was going to die in a dark box.

I buried my face in my knees and sobbed.

Then, a sudden, sharp static buzzed in my ear.

I gasped, pressing a hand to my ear. The small earpiece Marco had given me was still there.

"Rachel?"

It was Marco's voice, crackling but clear.

"I'm here!" I cried out into the dark. "Marco, please, I'm locked in the pool shed! Vanessa is taking Emma to Switzerland!"

"I know," Marco's voice replied, sounding strangely out of breath. "I saw them leave in the SUV. I can't stop them, Rachel."

My heart stopped. "What do you mean you can't stop them? You have to!"

"I can't," Marco groaned. "I've been shot."

I stopped breathing. "What?"

"Vanessa's men found my car," Marco coughed, the sound wet and agonizing. "My driver is dead. I managed to crawl into the alley, but I'm bleeding out."

Tears streamed down my face. "Marco, hold on. Call the police!"

"No cops," he wheezed. "Listen to me, Rachel. Luca is still alive. Vanessa didn't kill him yet. She wants him to sign the trust transfer first. Her men have him trapped in the study."

"I'm locked in a shed!" I cried. "I can't help him!"

"Yes, you can," Marco insisted, his voice growing weaker. "In the corner of that shed, under the loose floorboard... there's a tunnel. It leads directly into the mansion's wine cellar. My father built it during the prohibition."

I scrambled in the dark, my bleeding hands clawing at the wooden floorboards until I felt one shift.

I pulled it up. A rush of cold, damp air hit my face.

"I found it," I whispered.

"Good," Marco breathed. "Save my brother, Rachel. And tell him... tell him I'm sorry."

The earpiece went dead.

I stared into the black hole in the floor.

I didn't have a weapon. I didn't have a plan.

But as I climbed down into the dirt tunnel, my foot kicked something soft in the darkness.