THE PHOTOGRAPHS WEREN’T JUST A LIE—THEY WERE A TRAP, AND I WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO COULD PROVE IT.

Time seemed to stop.

Leo woke up with a scream, shrinking back against the sofa cushions.

Luca stepped directly in front of me, shielding both me and the boy with his body. He didn’t reach for his gun. He just stared at Vanessa with a cold, terrifying calm.

“You’re not walking out of here, Vanessa,” Luca said.

Vanessa laughed. “Oh, darling. I already have. The police are on their way. An anonymous tip reported that the notorious mafia boss Luca Moretti kidnapped his grieving fiancée’s legal ward.”

She took a step closer, the gun unwavering. Two heavily armed Donati men flanked her.

“I take the boy,” Vanessa said flatly. “You go to prison. I take over the syndicate as your devoted, heartbroken wife. It’s brilliant, really.”

“You’re not his mother,” I shouted from behind Luca, my hands shaking as I held the rosary tight enough to cut my palm. “You murdered his real mother! You murdered mine!”

Vanessa tilted her head, her eyes flashing with cruel amusement. “Your mother was a fool, Sophie. She figured out I was poisoning Elena’s tea. If she had just kept her mouth shut, she could have retired nicely. Instead, I had to replace her heart medication with potassium chloride.”

My knees gave out. A sob ripped from my throat. It was the confirmation I had dreaded. She had murdered my mother in cold blood.

“I’m going to kill you,” Luca said to Vanessa. It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.

“Not tonight,” Vanessa smirked. She nodded to her men. “Grab the boy. Shoot the maid.”

The men stepped forward.

But suddenly, a loud, heavy crack echoed from the back of the townhouse.

The lights went dead. Plunging the room into absolute darkness.

“What’s going on?” Vanessa yelled, panic finally piercing her voice.

Gunfire erupted. But it wasn’t aimed at us.

In the dark, I felt Luca’s strong arms wrap around my waist. He hoisted me and Leo up, dragging us behind the heavy oak kitchen island.

When the emergency lights flickered on a second later, the two Donati men were on the floor.

Standing in the doorway, holding a smoking shotgun, was Daniel.

He was bleeding through his shirt, his face grim. “You forgot about me, Vanessa.”

Vanessa shrieked, raising her pistol toward Daniel, but Luca was faster. He vaulted over the kitchen island, closing the distance in a fraction of a second. He struck her wrist, shattering the bone.

The gun clattered to the floor.

Vanessa collapsed, screaming in agony.

Luca didn’t offer her an ounce of mercy. He grabbed her by the throat and pinned her to the wall, lifting her feet off the floor.

“The police are coming,” Vanessa choked out, spitting blood, a manic smile still on her face. “You can’t kill me, Luca. They’ll find you with the boy. I still win.”

Sirens began to wail in the distance. Blue and red lights flashed against the shattered windows of the safe house.

“She’s right,” Daniel said heavily, lowering his shotgun. “Boss, if they come in here and see this, you’re done. The guardianship paper is legally binding.”

Luca stared into Vanessa’s eyes. She was right. He had brute force, but she had the law and a masterfully forged document.

I looked down at my hands. I was still holding the onyx rosary.

St. Jude’s. Box 42.

“Luca,” I shouted over the approaching sirens. “The rosary. St. Jude’s Church is three blocks away. If the real will is there, it proves she’s a fraud.”

Luca dropped Vanessa. She gasped for air, collapsing onto the rug.

“Daniel,” Luca commanded. “Hold her here. When the cops arrive, stall them. Tell them you were defending the property.”