THE NIGHT MANHATTAN’S MOST FEARED MAFIA BOSS WALKED INTO MY RESTAURANT, I WAS CROUCHED BESIDE HIS ELDERLY MOTHER WITH A GLASS OF ORANGE JUICE IN ONE HAND AND HER TREMBLING FINGERS WRAPPED AROUND THE OTHER. I didn’t know who she was. That was probably the only reason I treated her normally.

The warmth of the fire-lit study vanished instantly, replaced by a suffocating, icy terror.

Mia stood frozen in the doorway, her small hands gripping her stuffed rabbit so tightly her knuckles were white. The maid—a woman I had seen pouring tea just twenty minutes ago—held the pistol steady against the back of the little girl’s head.

"Put the gun down, Rosa," Vincent said. His voice was terrifyingly calm, devoid of the frantic panic I felt. It was the voice of a man who dealt in death. "You don't want to cross this line. If you hurt my daughter, Carlo Moretti cannot protect you. I will hunt you to the ends of the earth."

Rosa sneered, though I noticed a slight tremor in her hand. "Carlo promised me a million dollars and a flight to Italy if I bring him the book. Slide it over, DeLuca. Now."

Vincent didn't move. He knew that giving up the ledger meant giving up the only leverage we had. But he also knew he couldn't risk a bullet in his child.

I looked down at the desk. The black ledger sat heavily near the edge. Right next to it was Leo's hot cocoa, untouched in a heavy ceramic mug.

Leo was sitting on the sofa behind me, his eyes wide.

I tightened my grip on the silver rosary in my pocket. I was not a fighter. I was a waitress. But I was also Thomas Carter’s daughter. And my father hadn't sacrificed his life just so I could hand his legacy over to a traitor.

"Okay," I said, my voice trembling perfectly to sound terrified. "I'll give it to you. Please, just don't hurt her."

"Emily, no," Vincent warned quietly.

"I have to," I cried, taking a step toward the desk.

I picked up the heavy black ledger with my left hand. Rosa's eyes darted away from Vincent and locked onto the book. She licked her lips, calculating her payday.

That was her mistake.

With my right hand, I grabbed the handle of the heavy ceramic mug filled with scalding hot cocoa. In one fluid motion, I hurled the boiling liquid straight at Rosa’s face.

The boiling cocoa hit her directly in the eyes.

Rosa screamed, dropping the gun as her hands flew to her blistered face.

Vincent was a blur of motion. Before the gun even hit the carpet, he crossed the room, grabbed Rosa by the throat, and slammed her brutally against the wall. She crumpled to the floor, instantly neutralized.

I dropped to my knees and pulled Mia into my arms, shielding her with my body. She burst into tears, burying her face in my shoulder.

"I've got you, sweetheart," I whispered, rocking her as Leo ran over and hugged us both. "You're safe. You're okay."

Vincent stood over Rosa for a moment, his chest heaving. Then he turned and looked at me. The ruthless, cold mafia boss was completely gone. In his eyes, I saw only the terrified relief of a father.

He knelt down on the floor beside us and wrapped his arms around both me and his daughter. For a long moment, the four of us—Vincent, Mia, Leo, and I—just sat there on the floor of the study, holding each other as the adrenaline slowly drained away.

"You saved her," Vincent whispered, his voice cracking. "Emily, you saved my little girl."

"She's just a child," I said, my voice shaking. "Nobody touches the kids."

Eleanor walked over, her eyes shining with tears. She picked up the dropped gun and placed it safely in a desk drawer. Then she looked at me with profound respect. "You have your father's courage, Emily. You truly do."

Vincent stood up, helping me to my feet. He looked down at Rosa, who was groaning on the floor. "Marcus," he called out.

The security chief stepped into the room.

"Take her to the holding cells," Vincent ordered coldly. "And lock down the entire estate. Nobody gets in or out without my authorization. Carlo will know she failed soon enough."

As Marcus dragged the traitor away, Mia tugged on my sweater. She was still sniffing, but she reached into the pocket of her pajama pants and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

"My grandma said you were coming to live with us," Mia said softly, handing me the paper. "I drew this for you. Before the bad lady grabbed me."

I unfolded the paper. It was a child's crayon drawing. It showed a tall man in a suit, a little girl with curly hair, a boy in a red shirt, and a woman with brown hair holding a book.

Underneath, in messy handwriting, it read: Our Family.

Tears finally spilled over my cheeks. I looked at Vincent. He was staring at the drawing, a soft, incredibly vulnerable smile on his face.

"She's not wrong," Vincent said quietly.

But our moment of peace was shattered by the sound of Eleanor's cell phone ringing on the desk.

Eleanor picked it up. She looked at the caller ID, and her face went completely pale.

"It's an unknown number," she said, answering it slowly on speakerphone. "Hello?"

A dark, raspy voice filled the room.

"Hello, Eleanor," Carlo Moretti said. "Your maid failed. I expected that. But check your front gate security cameras. I think you'll find I don't need the ledger anymore."

Vincent immediately lunged for the security monitors on his desk. He brought up the feed for the main gate.

My blood turned to ice.

Standing in front of the iron gates, surrounded by Carlo's armed men, was a terrified, older woman in a floral robe.