THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME STRUGGLE TO CARRY A STACK OF DINNER PLATES

Luca stared at the darkened screen of his phone.

The silence in the study was suffocating.

He had just heard his oldest friend get attacked, and a stranger had just threatened his seven-year-old niece.

“Mr. Moretti,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “Call the police.”

“No.” Luca placed the phone on the desk. “The police can't handle the people Vanessa works with. If I involve the authorities, Lily won't survive the night.”

He walked over to a heavy wall safe hidden behind an oil painting. He punched in a code.

When the heavy steel door swung open, he reached inside and pulled out a black, suppressed handgun.

He checked the magazine with terrifying efficiency, sliding it into the holster at his waist.

“Can you walk, Hannah?” he asked, turning back to me.

“Yes,” I lied.

“Good. I need a witness. We are going to Vanessa’s suite.”

I forced myself out of the chair. Pain shot up my left thigh, sharp and unforgiving. I swallowed a gasp and put my weight on my right leg, following Luca out into the darkened, quiet hallway of the east wing.

The engagement party was still going on downstairs. Faint music drifted up from the grand ballroom.

But up here, the mansion felt like a tomb.

We reached the heavy oak doors of Vanessa’s suite. Luca didn't knock. He didn't turn the handle.

He stepped back and kicked the door right at the lock.

Wood splintered. The door flew open, hitting the wall with a thunderous crash.

I braced myself for Vanessa's screams.

But the room was empty.

The massive canopy bed hadn't been slept in. The balcony doors were wide open, a cold Chicago wind blowing the sheer curtains into the room.

“She’s gone,” I breathed.

Luca didn't answer. He was staring at the walk-in closet.

The door was ajar.

We walked inside. The closet was the size of my apartment, lined with designer gowns and expensive shoes.

But at the back of the closet, a small floor safe was wide open.

Luca knelt beside it.

He reached inside and pulled out a long, velvet jewelry box. He snapped it open.

Inside rested a stunning diamond bracelet. It was antique, incredibly ornate, and clearly worth a fortune.

“She didn't take it,” I said, feeling a tiny wave of relief.

Luca stared at the jewels. His jaw tightened.

“She didn't take it,” he repeated softly, “because this is glass.”

I frowned. “What?”

“My mother’s diamond bracelet. It’s been in my family for four generations. I gave it to Vanessa last week as an engagement gift.” He ran his thumb over the stones. “She had it replaced with a cubic zirconia fake.”

The reversal hit me like a physical blow.

Vanessa wasn't just marrying Luca for his mafia connections or his status.

She was systematically liquidating his family’s assets right under his nose.

“Look here,” I said, pointing to the bottom of the open safe.

Lying under a stack of velvet pouches was a piece of stiff, glossy paper.

I reached down and pulled it out.

It was a first-class boarding pass.

“Geneva, Switzerland,” I read aloud. “Departure is tomorrow morning at 6:00 A.M.”

“She’s running,” Luca said, standing up. “She orchestrated whatever is happening to Michael and my sister, siphoned millions in jewelry, and she’s leaving before the wedding even happens.”

Suddenly, a voice drifted in from the open balcony doors.

Soft. Hushed. Urgent.

Luca raised a finger to his lips, signaling me to be quiet.

He drew his weapon.

We crept out of the closet and moved silently toward the sheer curtains blowing in the wind.

Through the sheer fabric, I could see Vanessa’s silhouette. She was standing on the stone balcony in her red silk gown, holding a burner phone to her ear.

“I don't care what Michael said,” Vanessa hissed into the phone. “He got weak. He actually thought he could protect them.”

A pause as she listened to the person on the other end.

“No. The plan changes right now,” Vanessa ordered. “The maid knows too much. She found the courthouse photo. Luca is already asking questions.”

My blood ran cold. She was talking about me.

“Move the child tonight,” Vanessa said coldly. “Take her to the secondary location. If Rebecca puts up a fight... get rid of her.”

Luca’s hand gripped the curtain, his knuckles turning white.

“I’ll meet you downstairs in ten minutes,” Vanessa finished. “Have the car ready at the service entrance.”

She hung up.

Luca stepped back into the shadows of the room, pulling me with him.

Vanessa walked back into the bedroom, completely unaware we were standing six feet away. She grabbed a leather duffel bag from under the bed, threw a heavy coat over her arm, and walked out the bedroom door, leaving it wide open behind her.

“Call Daniel,” I whispered to Luca. “Have security stop her at the gate.”

“No,” Luca said, his eyes burning with a dark, terrifying fire. “If my men stop her, the people holding my niece will kill her. We have to follow Vanessa.”

He looked at my swollen knee.

“Can you make it down the service stairs?”