**THE MOMENT THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE SLAPPED ME IN FRONT OF HIS ENTIRE FAMILY AND CALLED ME “A THIEF WHO FORGOT HER PLACE,” HIS 8-YEAR-OLD SON WALKED INTO THE ROOM HOLDING AN OLD LETTER AND SAID, “DAD… SHE’S THE WOMAN MOM TRUSTED BEFORE SHE DIED.”** Nobody moved.

The gold money clip glinted harshly against the dark marble floor.

Dante Romano. The man who had just taken Matteo upstairs. The man who sat at Alessandro’s right hand in every business deal.

“You’re lying,” Alessandro said. But his voice lacked its usual certainty. It was the sound of a man trying to convince himself.

“Am I?” Serena mocked, leaning back against the door. “Check his bank records. Check the security footage at St. Jude’s. Dante paid your little maid’s hospital bills for the last month to ensure the nurses wouldn't ask questions when his people showed up.”

I stepped back, my mind racing. A month ago, the hospital billing department told me an anonymous donor had covered Leo’s treatments. I had cried in the chapel, thanking God for a miracle.

It wasn't a miracle. It was a snare.

“Why would Dante help you?” Alessandro asked, his eyes darkening.

“Because he’s tired of living in your shadow,” Serena spat. “He wanted the shipping contracts in Florence. Elena found out he was skimming from the family. So, he asked me to arrange a little boat trip for her. In exchange, he promised to make me the queen of this city once he took your place.”

A sickening wave of realization washed over me. Elena hadn't just been warning Alessandro about a gold-digger. She was warning him about a coup.

Suddenly, a massive crash echoed from the floor above us.

Wood splintering. Glass shattering.

“Matteo!” Alessandro roared.

He drew a heavy black handgun from beneath his jacket in a split second and sprinted toward the grand staircase.

I didn't think. I just ran after him.

We tore up the curved marble steps, taking them two at a time. The heavy oak door to Matteo’s bedroom was completely blown off its hinges, hanging by a single twisted piece of metal.

Alessandro raised his weapon and entered the room.

I stepped in behind him, my heart hammering in my throat.

The room was destroyed. Bookshelves toppled. The mattress flipped. The massive window overlooking the back gardens was shattered, the night wind blowing the curtains wildly.

But the room was empty.

Matteo was gone. Dante was gone.

“No, no, no,” Alessandro repeated, his voice breaking. It was the first time I had ever heard the great Alessandro Romano sound completely helpless.

He ran to the broken window, looking down at the dark, sprawling estate grounds.

I fell to my knees in the center of the ruined room.

My hands swept over the plush rug, desperate for any sign of where they had gone. My fingers brushed against something stiff.

I pulled it out from under a fallen encyclopedia.

It was a small, rectangular piece of thick paper. The edge was jagged, like it had been violently ripped in half.

I stood up and held it toward the light.

It was a ferry ticket.

Specifically, a VIP boarding pass for the Midnight Star, a private luxury ferry that crossed the bay to a secluded island terminal.

The date on the ticket was tonight. Departure time: 11:30 PM.

I looked at the grandfather clock in the hallway. It was 10:45 PM.

“Alessandro,” I called out, my voice trembling.

He spun around from the window, his eyes wild. I held out the torn ticket.

He snatched it from my hand. He stared at the logo, and the blood drained entirely from his face.

“The Midnight Star,” he whispered. “That’s Dante’s private boat. He’s taking him to the island.”

“Why the island?” I asked.

“Because the island is out of my jurisdiction,” Alessandro said, his tone turning to pure, lethal ice. “And because that’s where my family’s offshore accounts are accessed. He needs Matteo’s retinal scan to unlock Elena’s trust fund.”

He grabbed his radio from his belt.

“Lock down the perimeter! Nobody leaves the estate!” he barked into it.

Static hissed back.

He tried again. “Front gate, report!”

Nothing. Total silence.

Alessandro looked at me, the realization dawning on both of us at the same time. Dante hadn't just planned an escape. He had bought the guards.

We were completely alone in a house full of enemies.

Suddenly, the radio in his hand crackled to life.

But it wasn't a guard’s voice that came through.

It was Dante’s.

“Hello, brother,” Dante’s smooth, calm voice echoed into the destroyed bedroom.

“Dante,” Alessandro said, his voice deadly quiet. “If you hurt one hair on his head—”

“Relax, Alessandro. The boy is fine,” Dante interrupted. “For now. But we have a problem. I’m standing at the front gates, and it seems my lovely partner Serena didn't make it out to the car.”

Alessandro gripped the radio tightly. “She’s tied to a chair in the dining room.”

“Shame,” Dante clicked his tongue. “Here is the deal, brother. You have something I want. And I have something the maid wants.”

I stepped closer to the radio, my breath hitching.

“I have men at St. Jude’s Hospital standing outside Room 412,” Dante continued casually. “And I have Matteo. If you want the boy back, you will bring the Romano signet ring and all the bearer bonds in your safe down to the old greenhouse in ten minutes.”

“And my brother?” I shouted toward the radio.

Dante chuckled. “If you want the machine to stay plugged in, Claire… you are going to bring Serena to the greenhouse, too. If she isn't with you, I make a phone call, and your little brother stops breathing.”

The radio clicked off.

Alessandro looked at me.

We had ten minutes.

“We go to the safe,” Alessandro said, moving rapidly toward the door.

“And Serena?” I asked, following him.

Alessandro stopped in the hallway. He looked back at me, his eyes dark and unreadable.

“We aren't taking Serena to the greenhouse,” he said.