THE MOMENT THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE CALLED HIS EIGHT-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER “AN EMBARRASSMENT TO THIS FAMILY,” I PLACED A HANDWRITTEN PLACE CARD BESIDE HIS STEAK AT THEIR ENGAGEMENT DINNER—BECAUSE THE LITTLE GIRL HAD BEEN WAITING UPSTAIRS IN HER BEST DRESS FOR TWO HOURS.

“Lock Mia in her bedroom,” Dante ordered, pulling a heavy black pistol from the holster beneath his suit jacket. “Do not open the door for anyone but me.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, my hands trembling.

I ushered Mia into her pink bedroom, locked the heavy oak door, and pushed a heavy armchair against it.

“Stay away from the windows, sweetheart,” I whispered, hugging her tight.

Dante didn’t wait. He moved down the hallway with terrifying speed and precision. I followed close behind him, terrified but unwilling to leave Mia alone if the threat moved upstairs.

We reached the balcony overlooking the grand foyer.

Down below, the heavy mahogany doors to the dining room were chained shut.

Standing in the center of the foyer was Vance, Dante’s most trusted friend and head of security. He was holding a heavy steel chain, staring up at us.

“What are you doing, Vance?” Dante asked, his voice echoing in the massive hall.

Vance didn’t draw his weapon. He simply looked at Dante with a mixture of regret and cold determination.

“I’m sorry, Dante,” Vance said. “But Isabella was going to ruin everything. She was going to send the kid away and take control of the family trust.”

“You forged my signature?” Dante asked, descending the stairs slowly.

“I used an old contract you signed years ago,” Vance admitted. “I put it in the music box so Isabella would find it. I knew she would try to use it against Mia. I needed you to see how toxic she is.”

Dante stopped halfway down the stairs. “You chained twenty-eight guests in a room to prove a point about my fiancée?”

“No,” Vance said smoothly. “I chained them in there so the police would know exactly where to find them.”

Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder by the second.

Vance checked his wrist. He was wearing a distinctive silver watch with a cracked face.

“The FBI is three minutes away, Dante,” Vance said. “They have the Cayman Island ledgers. Isabella sold you out. She’s an informant.”

My breath hitched. Isabella wasn’t just a cruel fiancée; she was a rat.

“And what about you, Vance?” Dante asked softly.

Vance smiled bitterly. “I’m taking the fall for the illegal weapons shipment at the docks tonight. You take Mia. Take the housekeeper. Get out through the tunnels.”

Vance tossed Dante a set of keys.

“Go,” Vance ordered.

Dante caught the keys. He looked at the man who had stood by him for a decade. Then he turned to me. “Get Mia.”

I ran upstairs, unlocked the door, and grabbed Mia’s hand. We rushed down the back servant stairs, avoiding the main foyer.

Dante led us into the wine cellar, pulling a hidden lever behind a rack of vintage reds. A heavy stone door swung open, revealing a dark, damp tunnel.

We ran.

The sirens above us grew deafening, then slowly faded as we moved deeper underground.

We emerged three blocks away, in a dark alley where a black SUV was waiting. Dante threw us inside and sped into the night.

I sat in the backseat, holding a shaking Mia.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

Dante didn’t look in the rearview mirror. “To a safe house in Brooklyn.”

He reached into his pocket and handed me a small, folded piece of paper. “Vance handed this to me with the keys.”

I unfolded it in the dim streetlights.

It was a photograph of my sister, Chloe. She was sitting in a coffee shop, completely unaware she was being watched.