THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME STRUGGLE TO CARRY A HEAVY SILVER TEA SERVICE WITHOUT STRAIGHTENING MY BACK—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “SHE FELL IN THE WINE CELLAR,” BEFORE HE HAD EVEN ASKED WHY I WAS IN PAIN.

The garage was dead silent except for the ragged, wet sound of Thomas fighting for air inside the trunk.

Daniel immediately pulled his sidearm, scanning the dark corners of the underground garage.

Luca didn't draw a weapon.

He stepped up to the bumper, looking down at the man who had driven him for eight years.

Thomas's face was a swollen, unrecognizable mass of purple and crimson. His suit jacket was shredded.

"Daniel, get the medic kit from the SUV," Luca ordered calmly.

He reached into the trunk and pressed two fingers against Thomas's neck.

Thomas groaned, his eyelids fluttering.

Through the swelling, his eyes locked onto Luca.

Pure, unadulterated terror flashed in them.

"Boss," Thomas choked out, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. "I... I tried to stop it."

"Who did this to you, Thomas?" Luca asked, his voice steady.

"Falcone's men," Thomas wheezed. "I told Vanessa... I told her I couldn't drive you tomorrow. I told her I wanted out."

"So she had them silence you."

"They beat me... threw me in here to bleed out... left the car to frame the girl..."

Thomas’s head lolled to the side, his gaze finding me where I stood frozen against the sedan’s rear fender.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to me.

Luca reached down and gently pried the crumpled piece of paper from Thomas’s shattered fingers.

He smoothed it out on the trunk lid.

I leaned closer, my heart pounding against my bruised ribs.

It was a piece of cheap construction paper.

Drawn in bright red and blue crayons was a stick-figure family. A woman with yellow hair. A small boy holding her hand.

Written clumsily at the top in a child's handwriting were two words: To Mommy.

"Vanessa," Luca murmured.

Answer one, open two.

Vanessa wasn't just conspiring with the Falcone family for money or power.

She had a child.

A secret son she had kept hidden from Luca, from the press, from everyone.

"Where is the boy, Thomas?" Luca demanded, leaning closer to the dying man.

"Falcone has him," Thomas gasped, his breathing growing shallower. "They've had him for a month. That's why... that's why she agreed to the hit. Falcone said he'd kill the kid if she didn't deliver you."

My stomach turned over.

Vanessa was a monster for what she had done to me, and what she planned to do to Luca.

But she was a monster trapped in a cage, fighting for her child's life.

"Where is the exchange happening?" Luca asked. "Daniel tracked the GPS route Vanessa gave you. It doesn't go to the church. It goes to an address outside Chicago. Where?"

Thomas swallowed hard, his eyes glazing over.

"It's not... a warehouse."

"Where is it?"

"St. Jude's... Medical Center."

The floor seemed to drop out from beneath my feet.

The air left the garage.

St. Jude's.

"No," I whispered, stepping backward, my hands covering my mouth. "No, no, no."

Luca stood up and looked at me. "Emma? What is it?"

"My mother," I choked out, tears instantly blinding me. "My mother is at St. Jude's. She's on the fourth floor. She's recovering from a stroke."

Daniel froze with the medic bag in his hands.

Luca's jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked violently in his cheek.

The Falcones weren't just planning to kill Luca at the hospital.

They had chosen St. Jude's on purpose.

Vanessa knew my mother was there. She had approved my request for time off to visit her last month.

They were going to use my mother as leverage to force me onto that train to Montreal.

"They have the hospital locked down," Thomas coughed, spitting blood onto the trunk mat. "Falcone bought the night shift security. They're waiting for you, Boss. Tomorrow at noon."

Thomas reached up with a trembling, bloody hand and grabbed Luca's shirt sleeve.

"Don't go to the church... and don't go to the hospital. Run."

Thomas's hand slipped.

His eyes rolled back.

His chest stopped moving.

Daniel stepped forward, checking for a pulse. After five seconds, he shook his head.

"He's gone, Boss."

I covered my face, a sob ripping through my throat.

My mother was trapped in a building controlled by mafia hitmen.

I was standing in a garage with a dead body.

And the man I worked for was marked for death in less than twelve hours.

Luca took off his jacket and draped it over my trembling shoulders.

The fabric smelled like cedar and expensive cologne, heavy and warm.

"Daniel," Luca said, his voice devoid of all emotion. "Call the cleaners. Get this car out of here."

"Yes, Boss. What about the wedding? Do I cancel it?"

Luca looked down at the crayon drawing in his hand.

"No."

He turned to me.

"If we cancel the wedding, Falcone kills Vanessa's son. And he kills your mother."

"What are we going to do?" I asked, my voice cracking.

"I am going to St. Jude's tomorrow to dismantle the Falcone family piece by piece," Luca said softly. "But to do that, Falcone needs to believe his plan is working. He needs to believe his decoy is in the car heading to the hospital."

Luca reached into his pocket and pulled out the heavy silver money clip I had given him.