THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME STRUGGLE TO CARRYs 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.

The kiss was everything he had been holding back for two agonizing weeks—fierce, demanding, and laced with a desperate, overwhelming hunger.

I tangled my fingers in his dark hair, kissing him back with all the pent-up emotion I had been suppressing. Luca’s arms wrapped tightly around me, lifting me slightly off the floor, holding me as if he were terrified I might vanish into thin air.

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathless, our foreheads resting together in the dim light of the study.

"You are going to be the death of me, Emily Parker," Luca whispered, his voice rough, a reluctant, beautiful smile touching the corner of his lips.

"I think I'm actually the reason you're currently alive, Mr. Moretti," I teased softly, my heart soaring.

Luca chuckled, a deep, rich sound that rumbled through his chest. He set me back on my feet but didn't let go of my waist, keeping me anchored against him.

"I'm serious, Emily," Luca said, his expression turning solemn again, his dark eyes searching my face. "This life... it isn't a movie. It's violent. It's unpredictable. Are you absolutely sure you want to be in the crosshairs with me?"

"I've survived Marco and Vanessa," I stated firmly, looking him dead in the eye. "I think I can handle whatever comes next."

Luca stared at me, awe and profound respect washing over his hardened features. He leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead.

"Okay," Luca agreed quietly. "Okay."

Before he could say anything else, a heavy, urgent knock rattled the study door.

Luca sighed, his jaw tightening as the reality of his empire intruded on the moment. He gently released me, stepping back and running a hand through his messy hair to regain his composure.

"Come in," Luca commanded, his voice instantly dropping back into the authoritative tone of the boss.

The heavy doors swung open. Daniel walked in, holding a thick, manila envelope. His face was grim, entirely devoid of the relief that had been present over the last two weeks.

"Boss," Daniel said, glancing at me before looking back at Luca. "We have a problem."

"What is it, Daniel?" Luca asked, walking back around his desk.

"It's about Marco's penthouse," Daniel reported, stepping up to the desk and placing the envelope on the mahogany surface. "The feds raided it yesterday. But our cleanup crew went in the night before to sanitize the place, wipe the computers, and empty the wall safe."

"And?" Luca pressed impatiently.

"And they found something in the safe that didn't belong to Marco," Daniel swallowed hard, looking deeply unsettled. "They found a ledger, Boss. But not a financial one."

Luca frowned, pulling the envelope toward him. He ripped the top open and slid the contents onto his desk.

It was a small, black, leather-bound notebook. It looked old, the pages yellowed and frayed at the edges.

I stepped closer, my curiosity piqued by the sudden tension in the room.

Luca picked up the notebook. He opened it to the first page.

I watched the color completely drain from his face. The powerful, untouchable mafia boss suddenly looked as though he had seen a ghost.

"Luca?" I asked softly, a spike of fear shooting through my chest. "What is it?"

Luca didn't answer. He stared at the handwritten page, his hands trembling so violently the notebook shook.

"Leave us, Daniel," Luca whispered, his voice hollow.

Daniel nodded quickly and practically sprinted out of the study, pulling the heavy doors shut behind him.

Luca slowly lowered the notebook onto the desk. He looked at me, his dark eyes wide with a terrifying, absolute devastation.

"This is my father's handwriting," Luca breathed, the words tasting like poison.

My breath caught in my throat. Luca's father had died of a massive heart attack ten years ago, long before I started working at the estate. He was a revered figure in the syndicate, a man Luca idolized and modeled his entire leadership style after.

"What does it say?" I asked gently, stepping around the desk to stand beside him.

Luca didn't touch the book again. He stared at it as if it were a bomb.

"It's a diary," Luca said, his voice cracking. "From the last year of his life."

I looked down at the open page. The ink was faded, but the bold, aggressive handwriting was perfectly legible.

March 14th.

Teresa is becoming a problem. She asks too many questions about the offshore accounts. She knows about the missing funds from the union pension. If she talks to the board, I lose control of the legitimate front.

My stomach plummeted. His father wasn't writing about business rivals. He was writing about Teresa.

Luca reached out with a trembling finger and flipped the page.

April 2nd.

I met with the doctor today. He says the new dosage of digitalis will be untraceable if administered slowly over six months. It mimics natural heart failure perfectly. It is the only way to protect the empire. Teresa has to go.

I gasped, covering my mouth with my hands in sheer horror.

Luca’s father hadn't died of a random heart attack. He had been planning to murder his own wife—Luca’s mother—using the exact same method Vanessa had attempted years later.

"He was poisoning her," Luca whispered, the revelation shattering the very foundation of his entire life. "My father was poisoning my mother."

"Luca, I'm so sorry," I breathed, tears welling in my eyes for the pain he was experiencing.

Luca frantically flipped to the very last page of the diary. The entry was dated the day before his father died.

October 11th.

The poison is failing. She is too strong. She found the vial in my study tonight. She confronted me. I told her the truth. I told her she was a liability.

The handwriting on the final lines became jagged and frantic, as if written in a rush of absolute panic.

She didn't cry. She didn't scream. She just looked at me and said she would handle it. I am locked in the study. My chest is burning. I can't breathe. She switched my pills. Teresa switched my pills.

The notebook ended there.

The silence in the study was deafening, suffocating, absolute.

Luca stared at the final, jagged sentence, his mind completely breaking under the weight of the truth.

His father hadn't died of a natural heart attack.

He had been murdered.

And the woman who killed him, the woman who had masterminded the perfect, untraceable assassination of the most powerful mafia boss in Chicago... was Teresa Moretti.

"My mother killed him," Luca breathed, stepping backward, stumbling slightly until his spine hit the bookshelf.

I stared at the diary, my mind reeling. Teresa. The kind, sharp, fiercely protective matriarch who had just promoted me. She was a killer.

"Why did Marco have this?" I asked, my voice shaking, trying to piece together the horrifying puzzle.

Luca looked at me, his eyes dark with a terrifying realization.

"Marco found it in my father's safe after he died," Luca deduced, his voice dropping into a lethal, quiet register. "He kept it. He’s been blackmailing my mother with it for ten years."

The realization hit me like a physical blow.

"That's why Marco had so much power," I whispered. "That's why Teresa let him run the illegal operations unchecked. She was protecting her secret."

"And when Marco got greedy, when he tried to kill me by setting up the Russian ambush," Luca continued, his jaw setting into stone, "my mother didn't call the Russians just to save my life."