THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED MY HAND SHAKE AS I POURED CHAMPAGNE AT HIS ENGAGEMENT DINNER—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “SHE BURNED HERSELF ON THE KITCHEN STOVE,” BEFORE HE HAD EVEN ASKED WHY I WAS WEARING ONE WHITE GLOVE.**

The text message blurred through my tears.

“They’re at my apartment,” I whispered, panic rising in my throat. “Silvio’s men. They have Tommy and Leo there.”

Dominic glanced at the phone screen. His jaw tightened.

“It’s a trap, Grace.”

“I don’t care! That’s my family!”

“If we walk in there blind, we all die.”

“Then give them the diamond!” I grabbed the locket around my neck. “We have the key. We can go to the bank—”

“The bank is heavily guarded by now. Silvio isn’t stupid.” Dominic hit the gas, speeding away from the docks. “We play this my way.”

“Your way gets my nephew killed!” I screamed, finally breaking. Three years of subservience vanished in an instant. “You dragged my family into your mafia wars! My mother died trying to protect us from your father, and now Elena and Silvio are going to finish the job!”

Dominic didn’t yell back.

He just kept driving.

“Your mother didn’t die protecting you from my father, Grace,” he said quietly. “She died protecting you from Silvio.”

I froze.

“What?”

Dominic kept his eyes on the road. “Thirty-one years ago, my father was married to my mother. But he fell in love with a waitress. Your mother.”

My chest tightened.

“She got pregnant,” Dominic continued. “When Silvio found out, he tried to have her killed. He didn’t want an illegitimate heir threatening the family line. My father saved her. He gave her the diamond, bought her a new identity, and paid a mechanic to marry her and raise the child as his own.”

I shook my head, refusing to believe it.

“Tommy was born first,” I said defensively. “He’s three years older than me.”

“Tommy is the mechanic’s biological son,” Dominic said. “You are not.”

The words hit me like a physical blow.

“My father is your father, Grace. We are half-siblings.”

Silence filled the car.

I looked at the window. The reflection of my face. The dark hair. The pale skin.

I looked at Dominic.

We had the same eyes.

“Elena found out,” Dominic said. “She knew that if I died, you were the true blood heir. That’s why she hired you as a maid. She wanted to keep you under her thumb, humiliate you, and when the time was right... eliminate you.”

It all made sense. The cruel jokes. The impossible tasks. The way Elena looked at me with pure hatred.

“I’m a Caruso,” I whispered.

“Yes. And no one touches a Caruso.”

Dominic pulled the SUV into a dark alley three blocks from my apartment building.

He turned off the engine and pulled out a burner phone from the glove compartment. He dialed a number.

“It’s me,” Dominic said into the receiver. “Are they in position?”

A pause.

“Execute.”

He hung up.

“Who was that?” I asked.

“I told you I protect my family, Grace.” Dominic opened his car door. “Stay behind me.”

We walked through the shadows of the alley. My heart hammered against my ribs.

When we reached the back entrance of my apartment building, the door was already cracked open. A man in a dark suit was standing over the unconscious body of one of Silvio’s thugs.

The man nodded to Dominic.

We climbed the narrow stairs to the third floor.

My apartment door, number 3B, was slightly open.

I heard a voice inside. Silvio.

“Check the bank again!” Silvio roared. “The girl has the key. If she doesn’t show up in five minutes, shoot the mechanic and take the kid.”

Dominic held up his hand, signaling me to stop.

He stepped silently into the doorway, raising his weapon.

“You won’t need to shoot anyone, Silvio,” Dominic’s voice echoed in the small apartment.

Inside, Silvio spun around, pulling his gun. Two of his men raised their rifles.

But before they could fire, the windows of my apartment shattered inward.

Flashbang grenades rolled across the cheap carpet.

Blinding white light and a deafening boom filled the room.

I covered my ears, screaming.

Through the smoke, Dominic moved like a shadow.

Three precise gunshots rang out.

When the smoke cleared, Silvio’s two men were on the floor, groaning in pain, their weapons kicked away.

Silvio was backed against the kitchen counter, bleeding from a grazing shot to his shoulder. Dominic’s gun was pointed directly between Silvio’s eyes.

In the corner of the room, tied to a chair, was Tommy. His face was bruised, but he was alive.

And huddled in Tommy’s arms, crying but unharmed, was six-year-old Leo.

“Auntie Grace!” Leo cried.

I ran to them, dropping to my knees, wrapping my arms around both of them.

“I’ve got you,” I sobbed. “I’ve got you.”

Silvio spat blood onto the floor. He glared at Dominic.

“You think you won?” Silvio sneered. “Elena controls the board. She has the house. She has the lawyers. You have nothing.”

Dominic didn’t flinch.

“Elena has a forged document and a false sense of security,” Dominic said. “And in exactly two minutes, she is going to have a very unpleasant surprise.”

Silvio laughed. “What surprise?”

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

It was a live news alert.

I pulled it out and stared at the screen.

The headline made my blood run cold.

MAFIA BOSS DOMINIC CARUSO ASSASSINATED IN CAR BOMBING AT HARBOR.

I looked up at Dominic.