THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME STRUGGLE TO CARRY HIS ENGAGEMENT DINNER WITH ONE ARM PRESSED AGAINST MY RIBS—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “SHE FELL IN THE SERVICE COURTYARD,” BEFORE HE HAD EVEN ASKED WHY I COULDN’T STAND STRAIGHT. Four more steps.

The rain beat down relentlessly against the floodlights, casting long, fractured shadows across the driveway.

Thomas was unconscious, medics already swarming over him, but his bloody handprint remained smeared across the black fabric of my uniform.

Luca stood up slowly.

The rain slicked his dark hair to his forehead, and when he turned to look at me, the expression on his face made my blood run cold.

"What locket?" he asked.

His voice wasn’t a shout. It was dead calm. And that was infinitely more terrifying.

My hands flew up, instinctively pressing against my chest where the silver chain lay hidden beneath my collar. "I don't know what he's talking about."

"Emily." Luca took a slow step toward me. The protective boss from five minutes ago had vanished, replaced entirely by the head of the Chicago syndicate. "A man just bled out on my driveway, my mother is missing, and he used his last breath to give you a message. Don't lie to me."

I backed away until my shoulders hit the stone pillar of the gate.

"It's just a necklace," I stammered, my chest heaving. The pain in my ribs flared aggressively, but adrenaline drowned it out. "It’s mine. I’ve had it for eleven years."

"Show it to me."

"It has nothing to do with your family!"

"Show it to me."

My trembling fingers reached up to the buttons of my collar. I popped the top two open and reached inside, pulling out the heavy, tarnished silver locket. It was shaped like a shield, engraved with a crest I had never understood—a falcon gripping a broken sword.

Luca stared at it.

He didn't touch it. He just stared at the silver bird, his breathing suddenly stopping.

"Where did you get that?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"I found it," I lied. The words tasted like ash.

Luca’s jaw clenched. "You found it."

"Yes. A long time ago."

He reached out, his large fingers lightly tracing the cold silver resting against my skin. A shiver ran through me that had nothing to do with the rain.

"This crest," Luca said softly, his dark eyes rising to meet mine, "belongs to the Falcone family. The cartel that controls the East Coast docks."

My stomach plummeted.

"And there were only ever two lockets like this made," Luca continued, his voice dropping an octave. "One was buried with the Falcone patriarch. The other belonged to his eldest son, Marco."

Luca stepped closer, his chest almost brushing mine.

"Marco Falcone has been dead for eleven years, Emily. His body was pulled from the Chicago River. Whoever killed him took his locket."

Reversal.

Everything I thought I knew shattered.

Eleven years ago, on a rainy night just like this, I was eighteen years old, walking home from a diner shift. I had found a man bleeding in an alleyway. I tried to help him. I called an ambulance. Before he died, he shoved this locket into my hands and told me to run.

I never knew his name. I never knew he was a cartel boss.

I only kept the locket because inside it was a tiny, folded photograph of a baby.

And that baby had my face.

"I didn't kill him," I whispered, tears mixing with the rain on my cheeks. "I was just a kid, Mr. Moretti. I tried to help him."

Luca stared at me, searching my face for the lie.

Before he could answer, the roar of an engine shattered the tension.

A black SUV tore through the open gates, tires screeching on the wet asphalt before slamming to a halt near the porch.

Daniel threw open the rear door.

My heart leapt into my throat as a tiny figure tumbled out into the rain.

"Mommy!"

"Leo!" I screamed, pushing past Luca and running as fast as my bruised ribs would allow.

I fell to my knees on the wet concrete, catching my six-year-old son in my arms. He was in his Batman pajamas, clutching his stuffed dinosaur, his dark curls plastered to his forehead. He smelled like sleep and baby shampoo. I buried my face in his neck, sobbing uncontrollably.

"I got you, baby. I got you," I cried, rocking him back and forth.

Sarah, the babysitter, climbed out behind him, looking pale and terrified. "They just showed up, Mrs. Parker. They said you were in danger."

"You did the right thing," I choked out, kissing Leo’s cold cheek.

Luca approached slowly. The hard edge of the mafia boss had temporarily receded as he looked down at my shivering child.

He unbuttoned his expensive wool overcoat and knelt in the mud beside me, draping the heavy fabric over Leo’s small shoulders.

Leo blinked up at him. "You're the man who owns the big house."

Luca offered a faint, surprisingly gentle smile. "I am. You’re safe here, Leo."

Leo sniffled, pulling the coat tighter around himself. Then, his large brown eyes drifted past Luca, looking toward the front steps of the mansion.

Vanessa was standing in the doorway, watching us. Her arms were crossed, her face a mask of cold panic.

Leo’s grip tightened on my shirt. He pointed a tiny finger directly at the woman who was about to marry a billionaire.

"Mommy," Leo whispered loudly in the quiet courtyard. "That’s the lady who came to our house today."

I froze.

Luca’s head snapped toward Vanessa.

"She told me you sent her," Leo continued innocently, unaware of the bomb he had just dropped. "She took the blue drawing from the fridge. And she took my wooden rosary."

Vanessa turned completely white. She stumbled back a step.

Because the lie was finally broken.

She hadn't just been blackmailed. She had gone to my house. She had taken my son’s drawing.

Luca stood up slowly, the rain dripping from his jaw. The look in his eyes was lethal.

"Daniel," Luca said calmly. "Take Emily and the boy inside."