THE MOMENT THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE THREW MY OLD FAMILY PHOTO INTO THE FIREPLACE AND CALLED ME “NOTHING BUT A SERVANT,” HIS SIX-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER STOOD UP AND SAID, “THAT’S MY MOMMY.” THE ENTIRE ROOM WENT SILENT. The fire was already burning.

Lily’s scream tore through me like a physical blade.

I didn't take the secret stairs to the garage. I shoved the heavy bookshelf back into place, ignoring Adrian’s shouted warning, and unlocked the heavy double doors of the study.

I burst into the hallway just as Carlo Bellini raised his fist to knock again.

Carlo was a massive, terrifying man with silver hair and eyes as cold as dead stones. He looked at me, a cruel, knowing smile twisting his lips. He reached inside his tailored suit jacket, his hand resting clearly on the grip of a pistol.

I didn't care. I didn't care about the Mafia, or the guns, or the empires.

I lowered my shoulder and slammed directly into his chest.

The impact surprised him more than it hurt him, but it was enough to knock him off balance. He stumbled backward against the hallway wall, cursing loudly in Italian.

I didn't wait to see if he pulled his gun. I ran.

I tore up the grand sweeping staircase, my black housekeeper’s dress tangling around my knees, my breath burning in my lungs.

"Lily!" I screamed, tearing down the second-floor corridor toward the staff quarters.

The door to my small, modest bedroom was wide open.

Inside, the room looked like a hurricane had hit it. My mattress was flipped off the frame. My small dresser drawers were pulled out, my cheap clothes scattered across the floor.

Standing in the center of the chaos was Victoria Bellini.

She was breathing heavily, her perfectly styled hair falling in wild strands across her face.

In one hand, she held the brass candlestick from my nightstand, gripping it like a weapon.

In the other hand, she held Lily.

Victoria was gripping the little girl’s upper arm so tightly that Lily’s feet were barely touching the ground. Lily was sobbing hysterically, struggling against the woman’s manic strength, her tiny fingers frantically trying to pry Victoria’s claws off her arm.

The sight of it broke something inside me.

Two years of playing the obedient maid, two years of keeping my head down and swallowing my pride, vanished entirely.

"Let her go," I said.

My voice didn't shake. It wasn't a request. It was an absolute, terrifying command.

Victoria snapped her head toward me. The arrogant socialite was gone. She looked unhinged, wild with desperation.

"Where is it?!" Victoria screamed, shaking Lily so hard the child cried out in pain. "Where is the rest of it, you miserable little rat?!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" I yelled, stepping slowly into the room, my eyes locked on the heavy brass candlestick in her hand.

"The proof!" Victoria shrieked, her chest heaving. "Isabella didn't just have my father’s rosary! She had a file! She was going to give it to the police! Where did you hide it?!"

My mind raced. A file? Isabella hadn't given my mother a file at the hospice. She only gave her the photograph, and she gave me the rosary.

Unless...

I remembered the heavy, tarnished crucifix in my pocket. Isabella had said it was evidence. But she never mentioned a file. Victoria was acting purely on panic, assuming I knew more than I did.

"If you don't let her go right now, Victoria," I said, my voice dropping an octave, completely steady, "I am going to walk out into the hallway and tell your father that you lost his file."

Victoria froze.

The threat landed perfectly. The look of pure terror that flashed across her face told me everything I needed to know. She wasn't acting on her father's orders right now. She was acting out of fear of him.

"He'll kill me," Victoria whispered, her eyes wide, staring past me into the empty hallway. "If he knows Isabella actually passed the evidence on before she died... he'll kill me for not finding it."

She was distracted.

It was all I needed.

I lunged forward. I didn't reach for the candlestick. I reached for Lily.

I slammed my body into Victoria, knocking her backward over the overturned mattress. She let out a sharp yelp as her grip on Lily broke. I scooped the crying child into my arms, spinning away just as the heavy brass candlestick swung through the air, missing the back of my head by inches.

I pulled Lily tightly against my chest, shielding her with my body, backing toward the door.

Victoria scrambled to her feet, her face twisted in absolute, murderous rage.

She raised the candlestick again, preparing to rush me.

"Drop it."

The voice came from the doorway, cold and final.

Victoria stopped dead.

I turned my head.

Adrian was standing in the doorway. He held a suppressed black pistol in his right hand, aimed directly at the center of Victoria’s forehead.

Behind him in the hallway, Carlo Bellini lay unconscious on the floor, a pool of blood forming near his temple where Adrian had clearly struck him with the weapon.

"Adrian, please!" Victoria dropped the candlestick. It hit the floor with a heavy thud. She raised her hands, immediately turning back into a victim. "She attacked me! The maid attacked me! I was just trying to protect Lily!"

Adrian didn't blink. He didn't lower the gun.

"Lily," Adrian said gently, his eyes never leaving Victoria. "Is Emily hurting you?"

Lily buried her face into my neck, her small arms wrapping tightly around me. "No," she sobbed. "Emily saved me. The bad lady squeezed my arm. She hurt me, Daddy."

The muscle in Adrian’s jaw ticked violently. The look he gave Victoria was so full of hatred it made the air in the room feel heavy.

"You have ten seconds to tell me exactly what happened to my wife, Victoria," Adrian said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "Or I pull this trigger, and I throw your body onto the front lawn for your father’s men to find."

Victoria burst into tears, dropping to her knees.

"I didn't want to do it!" she wailed, covering her face with her hands. "My father made me! He said our family was going bankrupt! He said the only way to save us was to force a marriage with you and take control of the Moretti empire!"

"So he murdered Isabella to make room for you," Adrian deduced, his finger tightening slightly on the trigger.

"She found out!" Victoria sobbed, looking up at him with pathetic, desperate eyes. "Isabella was smart, Adrian! Too smart! She found my father's offshore ledgers. She found the proof that the Bellinis were laundering money through your legitimate charities. She was going to the FBI!"

Everything suddenly made sense. That was why Isabella was terrified at the hospice. That was why she was on the run. She wasn't running from Adrian. She was running to protect him and the empire from being destroyed by the Bellini family.

"Where is the ledger?" Adrian demanded.

"I don't know!" Victoria shrieked. "My father tampered with her brakes. We thought she had the ledger in the car with her. But when the police brought back her belongings, it wasn't there! I thought the maid had it!"

Adrian slowly lowered the gun.

The truth was finally out in the open. The ghost he had been hunting for three years had a face.

He looked at me, a profound, overwhelming gratitude in his dark eyes. I had protected his daughter. I had held onto the only piece of evidence that led him to the truth.

But as the adrenaline began to fade, Lily suddenly shifted in my arms.

She reached into the pocket of her small pink pajamas and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.

"Emily," Lily whispered, her voice shaking. "While the bad lady was destroying your room... I found this under your bed. I hid it so she couldn't see."

I frowned, taking the paper from her small hand.

I unfolded it.

It was a child's drawing. Done in cheap, colorful crayons.

But it wasn't a drawing Lily had made. The paper was old, yellowed at the edges.

I stared at the image, my heart stopping completely.

It was a drawing of a tall woman with dark hair, pushing a smaller woman down a long flight of stairs.

I recognized the drawing instantly. Because I was the one who drew it. Twenty-four years ago, when I was seven years old.

"Where did you get that?" Adrian asked, stepping closer, seeing the horror on my face.

I looked up at him, my hands shaking so badly I almost dropped the paper.

"This is my drawing," I whispered, my voice hollow. "I drew this after I watched a woman push my mother down the stairs of the hospice facility... three days before she supposedly died of cancer."

I looked down at the figure I had drawn. The woman pushing my mother had a very specific, detailed piece of jewelry on her wrist.

A diamond bracelet with a sapphire clasp.

I slowly turned my head, looking down at Victoria Bellini, who was still kneeling on the floor.