**THE MOMENT THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE CALLED ME “A NOSY LITTLE CLEANING GIRL,” I WAS STANDING BESIDE HIS DEAD BROTHER’S CASKET—HOLDING THE WATCH THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ON HIS WRIST.** The private viewing had been closed to everyone except family.

The massive clock in Union Station ticked loudly above us.

Anthony stared at the photographs in my hand. His eyes darted from the glossy prints to my face, processing the impossible reality.

“Who hired you for the funeral?” Anthony demanded.

“The funeral director called my temp agency,” I said, my mind racing. “He said they specifically requested me because I had worked a high-profile event there last year.”

“Who requested you?”

I flipped the manila envelope over.

Written in the top corner, in sharp red ink, was a single name.

Bianca.

Answer one.

Bianca had planned my presence at the funeral home long before Daniel was even dead.

Open two.

Why me? I was a nobody. A girl from Logan Square struggling to pay rent.

“Look closely at the third photograph,” Elena said softly, stepping closer.

I pulled it to the front.

It was a picture of me sitting on a park bench, reading a book. But the focus of the photo wasn’t my face.

It was my neck.

Specifically, the small, tarnished silver locket I wore every day. A piece of junk jewelry my mother gave me before she died.

“Why is he zooming in on your necklace?” Anthony asked.

Elena’s face had gone completely pale. She looked at Anthony, then at me.

“Kate,” Elena whispered. “Open the locket.”

“It doesn’t open,” I said. “The clasp is fused shut. It’s been like that since I was a kid.”

“Break it,” Anthony ordered.

I hesitated, then grabbed the silver pendant. With a sharp tug, the cheap metal hinges snapped.

The locket fell open in my palm.

Inside wasn’t a picture of my mother.

It was a tiny, intricately folded piece of vellum paper.

I carefully unfolded it.

It was a birth certificate.

But the name on it wasn’t Kate Morgan.

It read: Katerina Russo.

Mother: Maria Russo. Father: Unknown.

The air left my lungs.

“No,” I whispered, stumbling backward. “My mother was a waitress. She died when I was twelve. My uncle raised me.”

“Your uncle was a jeweler, wasn’t he?” Elena asked gently.

“Yes.”

“He wasn’t your uncle, Kate,” Anthony said, staring at the paper. “He was a handler. The Russo family has a long history of hiding their illegitimate children with loyal retainers to protect them from blood feuds.”

The reversal made the entire station spin around me.

I wasn’t a random cleaning girl.

I was Bianca’s half-sister.

“Bianca knew,” Anthony said, the terrifying puzzle finally locking into place. “She knew who you were. She found out. But why bring you to the funeral home?”

“Because of Daniel’s watch,” Elena realized. “Bianca didn’t kill Daniel, but she knew your mother did. She knew Daniel hid the tiny key inside his watch. She needed someone to find it, someone who could recognize the wax impression and point the finger at your mother.”

“A jeweler’s assistant,” I breathed, staring at my trembling hands.

“She used you,” Anthony said, his voice dropping to a lethal calm. “Bianca wanted my mother exposed so the Romano family would collapse in scandal. Then, she would take over, using you—her secret sister—as a puppet heir to merge the two families under Russo control.”

It was brilliant. And completely evil.

Suddenly, Anthony’s phone buzzed violently in his pocket.

He answered it, putting it on speaker.

It was his head of security, calling from the Romano estate.

“Boss,” the guard said, his voice panicked. “We have a major problem.”

“Is my mother secured?” Anthony demanded.

“She’s dead, boss.”

Anthony froze. “What?”

“We found her in the study. Poisoned in her tea. And Bianca is gone. She slipped out before we locked down the perimeter.”

Anthony closed his eyes.

His mother was a monster, but she was still his mother. The pain and the betrayal warred on his face, but he forced it down. He had to lead.

“Where did Bianca go?” Anthony asked.