THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME SWITCH OFF THE MICROPHONE WHILE HIS TEN-YEAR-OLD SON STOOD CRYING IN FRONT OF THIRTY DINNER GUESTS—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID

I stood frozen in the dusty attic, the gold lighter heavy in my palm.

The man holding the gun smiled. It was a cold, empty expression that didn't reach his eyes.

"I'm Dante Bellini," he said softly. "Vanessa's older brother. And I'm getting really tired of cleaning up her messes tonight. So, toss the lighter."

My mind raced. If I gave him the lighter, he would destroy the only proof of Caroline’s murder. But if I didn't, he would shoot me, and then he would find Daniel.

I had to protect the boy.

"You're not going near Daniel," I said, my voice shaking despite my best efforts.

Dante chuckled. "You're a maid, Emma. Not a martyr. Throw it."

I looked at the lighter. Then I looked at the heavy, old-fashioned wooden rocking horse sitting between Dante and me.

"Okay," I whispered. "Here."

I tossed the lighter.

But I didn't toss it to him.

I threw it as hard as I could into the darkest, most cluttered corner of the attic, behind a mountain of sealed cardboard boxes.

Dante’s eyes darted toward the sound.

In that split second of distraction, I grabbed the heavy brass handle of the dollhouse and shoved the entire structure directly into his legs.

The heavy wood crashed into his knees.

Dante cursed loudly, stumbling backward. His gun fired, the silenced bullet whizzing past my ear and embedding itself into the roof beams.

I didn't wait.

I lunged forward, kicking his shin as hard as I could, and bolted past him toward the pull-down stairs.

I practically fell down the wooden steps, my feet hitting the third-floor hallway carpet hard.

"You little bitch!" Dante roared from the attic.

I ran toward the nursery.

I grabbed the door handle, but it wouldn't turn.

It was locked.

From the inside.

"Daniel!" I screamed, banging my fists on the wood. "Daniel, open the door! It's Emma!"

Silence.

Footsteps pounded down the attic stairs behind me.

"Daniel, please!"

Dante rounded the corner, his face twisted in fury, raising his gun.

Suddenly, the nursery door clicked and flew open.

I fell inside.

Before Dante could fire, a massive figure stepped out from the shadows of the nursery and slammed the heavy oak door shut in Dante's face, throwing the deadbolt perfectly in time.

I scrambled backward on the floor, gasping for air.

Standing in front of the door, holding a terrifyingly large shotgun, was Luca Moretti.

His white shirt was torn and soaked with blood near his left shoulder, but his eyes were completely clear and deadly calm.

"Mr. Moretti," I choked out.

He didn't look at me. He kept his eyes on the door.

"Are you hurt, Emma?" he asked, his voice rough.

"No. I'm okay. Where is Daniel?"

"In the safe room behind the closet. He's secure."

Outside the door, Dante banged his fist against the wood.

"Luca!" Dante shouted through the door. "It's over! My men have the house surrounded. Give me the maid and the lighter, and I'll let you and the boy walk away."

Luca actually laughed. It was a dark, hollow sound.

"You're standing in my house, Dante. You think you dictate terms to me?"

"You're bleeding out, Moretti! You can't hold this room forever."

Luca looked down at me.

"Emma," he whispered. "Did you find it?"

I nodded, pulling myself up to my feet. "Yes. The gold lighter. It has their family crest on it."

Luca’s jaw tightened. "Where is it?"

"I threw it behind the boxes in the attic so he couldn't get it."

A flicker of genuine respect crossed the mafia boss's face.

"Good girl," he murmured.

He checked the chamber of his shotgun.

"Dante," Luca called out loudly. "You want to make a deal?"

"I'm listening," Dante replied from the hall.

"Open the door," Luca said. "I'll hand it to you personally."

There was a pause.

"I'm not stupid, Luca. Put the gun down first."

"It's on the floor," Luca lied smoothly.

He looked at me and pointed toward the closet. Go, he mouthed.

I ran to the closet, slipping inside just as the heavy deadbolt clicked open from the hallway.

The door swung inward.

Dante stepped into the doorway, his gun raised.

Luca didn't hesitate.

He didn't try to negotiate.

He didn't ask for a confession.

He pulled the trigger.

The blast shattered the silence of the third floor. Dante was thrown backward into the hallway like a ragdoll, crashing against the opposite wall before sliding to the floor, completely motionless.

Luca lowered the shotgun, wincing in pain as his bleeding shoulder took the recoil.

He kicked the door shut and locked it again.

Then he slumped against the wall, his breathing ragged.

I rushed out of the closet. "Sir! You're losing too much blood."

I grabbed a clean baby blanket from a nearby drawer and pressed it hard against the wound on his shoulder.

Luca closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall.

"Marcus took out most of them downstairs," Luca rasped, his voice weakening. "But Bellini himself is still out there. And he won't leave without finishing this."

"The police are coming," I said, keeping the pressure on his wound. "I called Margaret. She called them."

Luca shook his head slowly.

"The police on this payroll belong to Bellini. If they show up, they're here to help him clean up the bodies."

My blood ran cold.

"Then how do we stop him?"

Luca opened his eyes and looked at me.

"We don't. We have to break him. We have to give him something that ruins him instantly, before he can pull the trigger."

He winced as I pressed harder on the bandage.

"Emma, I need you to do something dangerous. I need you to go down the back stairs. Go to my study."

"I can't leave you and Daniel."

"You have to. Behind my desk is a painting of a landscape. Pull it down. The safe combination is my wedding anniversary. Inside is a black ledger."

I stared at him. "A ledger?"

"It contains the bank account numbers of every dirty politician Bellini has ever bribed. If I die tonight, he wins. But if you take that ledger and email the photos of those pages to the federal prosecutor... Bellini loses everything. His own men will turn on him by morning."

He reached into his pocket with his good hand and pulled out his cell phone, handing it to me.

"Do it, Emma. End this."

I took the phone. My hands were covered in his blood.

"I'll be right back," I promised.

I unlocked the door, stepped over Dante’s lifeless body, and ran toward the servant's staircase.

But as I reached the bottom floor, the lights in the mansion suddenly cut out.

Plunging the entire house into absolute darkness.

And from the shadows of the grand foyer, a man’s raspy voice called out.