THE NOTE THAT BROKE THE ENGAGEMENT

The phone nearly slipped from my hand.

“Vanessa, please,” I begged, my voice cracking. “Frank is gone. The Commission knows everything. It’s over!”

“It’s not over until I get what I am owed!” Vanessa shrieked through the receiver, the elegant façade entirely destroyed by desperation. “My father is dead! The Commission executed him an hour ago for the hit on Antonio! I have nothing left, Emily. Nothing but the accounts your mother stole from my family.”

“Those accounts belong to the Morettis,” Luca said, taking the phone from my hand, his voice a lethal, low rumble. “Touch the boy, Vanessa, and there isn't a hole deep enough for you to hide in.”

“Bring the key, Luca,” Vanessa taunted. “Or the kid flies.”

She hung up.

Luca threw the phone against a rusted train car, shattering the screen.

“She’s insane,” I sobbed, panic clawing at my chest. “She’s going to kill Sam.”

“No, she isn't,” Luca said, his eyes burning with a terrifying resolve. “She needs the key. She won't touch him until she has it.”

“Then we give it to her,” I pleaded. “I don't care about the money. I just want my brother.”

Luca looked at me, his expression softening slightly. He reached out and gently squeezed my shoulder.

“We will give her the key,” Luca promised. “But we aren't giving her the future.”

We sprinted back to the SUV. Luca drove like a madman, weaving through the morning traffic with the siren wailing—a perk of his extensive payroll.

“Why does she want the money so badly?” I asked, gripping the dashboard as we took a hard corner. “She was going to marry you. She would have had everything.”

“She never wanted me,” Luca said bitterly. “She wanted the legitimacy. The Bellini family was violent, sloppy, and heavily scrutinized by the feds. My father built a clean, legal empire. Vanessa wanted to inherit it, wash her family’s dirty money through it, and take total control of Chicago.”

We pulled up to my apartment building. Three black SUVs were parked haphazardly on the curb. Vanessa’s remaining loyalists.

“Stay behind me,” Luca ordered, drawing his weapon.

We didn't take the stairs. Luca led me around the back, to the fire escape. We climbed silently to the roof.

The cold wind whipped across the tar paper.

Standing near the ledge was Vanessa, holding a small silver handgun to Sam’s head. Sam was on his knees, weeping quietly, his hands zip-tied behind his back.

Four of Vanessa’s thugs stood in a semi-circle, weapons drawn.

“Drop the gun, Luca,” Vanessa commanded as we stepped over the parapet. “And Emily, slide the key across the roof.”

Luca didn't lower his weapon. He kept it aimed squarely at the center of Vanessa’s chest.

“You’re surrounded, Vanessa,” Luca lied smoothly, his face entirely unreadable. “Marcus has snipers on the adjacent roofs. You pull that trigger, and your brain is painted on the pavement before the boy even falls.”

Vanessa hesitated, her eyes darting nervously to the surrounding buildings.

I took a step forward, holding the brass key up in the morning light.

“Let him go, Vanessa,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady. “I have the key. It’s yours. Just let Sam walk away.”

Vanessa’s greed won over her caution. She lowered the gun slightly from Sam’s head and held out her free hand.

“Slide it,” she demanded.

I knelt down and slid the heavy brass key across the rough tar paper.

It stopped a few feet from her stylish heels.

Vanessa smiled triumphantly. She bent down to pick it up.

In that split second, she took her eyes off Luca.

Luca didn't shoot Vanessa. He fired two rapid shots, dropping the two thugs closest to Sam.

The remaining two guards panicked and returned fire. Luca tackled me to the roof, shielding me with his body as bullets chewed into the brick chimney beside us.

Vanessa shrieked, grabbing the key and scrambling toward the fire escape on the opposite side of the roof.

“Sam! Get down!” I screamed.

Sam threw himself flat onto the roof as Luca returned fire, dropping the last two thugs.

The roof fell silent, save for the wind.

Luca jumped up and ran to Sam, pulling a knife to cut the zip-ties. I threw my arms around my brother, sobbing with relief as he hugged me back.

“Are you okay?” I cried.

“I’m fine,” Sam gasped. “She ran, Em. She took the key.”

Luca stood up, walking over to where Vanessa had been standing. He looked down at the tar paper.

Resting in a small puddle of rainwater was a heavy, silver diamond tennis bracelet. It had snapped off Vanessa’s wrist when she scrambled for the fire escape.

Luca picked it up, his jaw locking.

“She has the key,” Luca said, staring at the bracelet. “But she doesn't know where the lock is.”

He turned to me, his eyes fierce.