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.

"Her safe?" I whispered, staring at the silver Falcone crest in my hand. "Mr. Moretti, it's biometric. It requires her thumbprint."

"No, it doesn't," Luca corrected, his eyes dark and urgent. "She told me it was biometric. But three weeks ago, I saw her open it using a physical master key. A small brass key on a velvet ribbon."

"She keeps it in her vanity drawer," I said automatically.

As a housekeeper, I knew exactly where Vanessa hid her things. I had dusted that vanity every day for eleven months.

"I need her secondary burner phone," Luca said. "The one she uses to communicate with Falcone. It will have the exact floor plan of where they're holding the boy, and where they've positioned guards around your mother."

"I can get it."

"If she wakes up while you're in the room," Luca warned, stepping closer, his hands gently gripping my uninjured shoulder. "You run. You don't speak to her. You run straight to the hallway where Daniel will be waiting."

I nodded.

My fear was entirely overshadowed by the terrifying image of my defenseless mother lying in a hospital bed surrounded by armed men.

Ten minutes later, I stood outside the heavy oak doors of the master suite on the third floor.

The house was eerily silent.

Daniel stood at the end of the long corridor, hidden in the shadows, watching my back.

I placed my hand on the brass handle.

I didn't turn it immediately. I pressed my ear against the wood.

I could hear the faint sound of running water.

Vanessa was in the master bathroom, running a bath.

I turned the handle.

The door opened without a sound.

The master suite was massive, lit only by the soft orange glow of the fireplace.

Vanessa's red silk engagement gown lay discarded on the velvet chaise lounge.

I crept across the thick Persian rug, my heart hammering in my ears.

Every step felt incredibly loud.

I reached the vanity table.

Slowly, I pulled open the top right drawer.

Amidst the diamond earrings and expensive cosmetics lay a small brass key tied to a black velvet ribbon.

I grabbed it.

I moved to the massive walk-in closet where the wall safe was hidden behind a full-length mirror.

My bruised shoulder screamed in pain as I pushed the heavy mirror aside.

I inserted the key.

Turned it.

The heavy steel door clicked open.

Inside sat stacks of cash, a passport with a different name, and a cheap, black disposable cell phone.

I grabbed the phone.

I had it.

I pushed the safe door shut and turned to leave.

But as I stepped out of the closet, a hand shot out from the darkness.

Fingers adorned with a heavy diamond engagement ring dug fiercely into my bruised left shoulder.

I gasped, the pain blinding me for a split second.

Vanessa stood there.

She was wearing her white lace robe, dripping wet from the bath.

Her beautiful face was twisted into a mask of pure, ugly rage.

"You little thief," Vanessa hissed, her nails digging deeper into the purple bruise beneath my shirt. "I knew I shouldn't have let you pack your own bags. Stealing on your way out?"

She saw the black burner phone in my hand.

The color drained from her face.

The rage was instantly replaced by terror.

"Give me that," she snapped, reaching for the phone.

I didn't let go.

I didn't cower.

Eleven months of bowing my head and saying "Yes, ma'am" vanished the second I remembered my mother in that hospital bed.

"Is this the phone you used to sell out Luca?" I asked, my voice surprisingly steady.

Vanessa froze.

Her hand slowly dropped from my shoulder.

"What did you just say?"

"I know about Thomas," I said, stepping backward, keeping the phone clutched to my chest. "I know about the Falcone family. And I know about the St. Jude's hospital."

Vanessa's eyes widened. She glanced toward the closed bedroom door, panic setting in.

"You don't understand anything, Emma."

"I understand you're going to let them kill him!"

"They took my son!" Vanessa screamed, the polished facade finally shattering. Tears streamed down her face. "Leo is five years old! Falcone took him from his preschool in Milan! They told me if I didn't get Luca into that car tomorrow, they would send him back to me in pieces!"

Answer one.

She was a desperate mother.

But open two followed immediately.

"And my mother?" I demanded, tears blurring my own vision. "Why put me on the train? Why use her?"

Vanessa wiped her face, her expression hardening into survival mode.

"Because Falcone doesn't just want Luca dead. He wants Luca's signature on the shipping port deeds. They're going to torture him at the hospital to get the signatures. And they needed a hostage to keep you quiet, so you'd take the fall for setting up the ambush."

She stepped toward me, her voice dropping to a desperate whisper.

"Give me the phone, Emma. If you walk out that door with it, Falcone will know. And the nurses on the fourth floor of St. Jude's? They aren't nurses. They're Falcone's men. They will kill your mother before sunrise."

I stared at her, horrified.

I was trapped.

If I gave Luca the phone, he would raid the hospital, and my mother would be caught in the crossfire.

If I gave Vanessa the phone, Luca would die tomorrow.

"She doesn't have to give me the phone, Vanessa."

The deep, calm voice came from the shadows near the doorway.

Vanessa spun around, screaming.

Luca stepped into the dim light of the bedroom.

His gun was drawn, pointed directly at the floor, but the threat was unmistakable.

He had heard everything through the small earpiece Daniel had given me.

"Luca," Vanessa choked, falling to her knees on the Persian rug. "Luca, please. They have my boy."

Luca looked down at the woman he was supposed to marry.

"I know."

He walked past her, taking the burner phone from my trembling hand.

He looked at me.

"Your mother will not die tomorrow, Emma. And neither will Leo."

He turned back to Vanessa.

"Daniel!" Luca barked.

The bedroom door swung open. Daniel and two large guards stepped in.

"Take her down to the wine cellar," Luca ordered, his voice like ice. "Lock the door. She doesn't come out until I return."

Vanessa didn't fight as the guards pulled her up. She just wept silently.

When the room was empty, Luca walked over to the massive walk-in closet.

He bypassed the safe.

He went to the back rack, unzipped a white garment bag, and pulled it out.

He laid it across the bed.

It was a wedding dress.

Not the red silk gown. A traditional, heavy white silk gown with an opaque, thick lace veil.

"Vanessa bought a second dress," Luca said quietly. "For the church."

He turned to look at me, his dark eyes intense and unreadable.

"Tomorrow at noon, Falcone expects the bride to get into Thomas's car to lead the decoy route. The driver won't look closely. He just needs to see the veil."