THE SECRET BENEATH THE SUITCASE

The private jet sat on the rainy tarmac, its engines humming a low, steady rhythm.

Daniel stood by the boarding stairs, holding Oliver’s hand. The little boy looked exhausted, clutching his cardboard suitcase tightly against his chest.

“Come on, Emma,” Daniel said gently, glancing at his watch. “Mr. Moretti wants us in the air before midnight.”

I stood at the bottom of the stairs, the cold wind whipping my hair across my face. I looked at the gold key in my hand. Safety. A quiet life in Switzerland, far away from the blood and the guns.

Then I looked back at the Chicago skyline, glowing angrily against the dark clouds. Luca was walking into a trap. He thought the ledger was his silver bullet, but Don Bellini wasn't a man who played by the rules. He would never let Luca get close enough to use it.

“I can’t go,” I said, my voice steadying.

Daniel frowned, stepping down one stair. “Emma, you have strict orders—”

“Luca is walking into an ambush, Daniel,” I interrupted. “Bellini’s men are going to kill him before he even shows them the ledger. You know it. I know it.”

Daniel’s jaw tightened. The stoic security guard looked toward the city, a flash of helpless frustration crossing his face. “There’s nothing we can do. He ordered me to protect the boy.”

“Then protect the boy,” I said, turning away from the plane. “Get him to Switzerland. I’m going back.”

“Emma, stop!” Daniel called out, but he couldn't leave Oliver’s side to chase me.

I ran to the black SUV Daniel had driven us in, hopped into the driver’s seat, and slammed the door. I threw it in reverse, spinning the tires on the wet tarmac, and sped back toward the city.

I didn't know where Luca was meeting Bellini, but I knew exactly who would.

I pulled out my phone and dialed the number of the one person I had prayed I would never have to speak to again.

She answered on the second ring.

“Emma?” Vanessa’s voice was hollow, devoid of its usual arrogant edge.

“Where are they meeting, Vanessa?” I demanded, not wasting time with pleasantries.

Silence on the other end.

“Vanessa, please. Luca has Marco’s ledger. He thinks he can blackmail your father into standing down. But your father isn't going to negotiate, is he?”

“No,” Vanessa whispered, her voice breaking. “My father doesn't negotiate with dead men. He set a parley at the old shipyards on Navy Pier. He told Luca to come alone. But he has snipers stationed on the cranes. They’re going to shoot him the moment he steps out of his car.”

My blood ran completely cold.

“I’m going there,” I said.

“Emma, are you insane? You can’t stop my father!”

“I’m not going to try to stop him,” I said, my hands gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles were white. “I’m going to make a deal.”

I hung up and floored the accelerator.

Navy Pier was deserted, the amusement park rides standing dark and silent against the stormy sky. I drove past the tourist areas, heading deep into the rusted, abandoned shipyards at the edge of the water.

I parked the SUV a block away and crept forward on foot, the rain soaking through my thin coat.

I peeked around the edge of a massive shipping container.

The courtyard was lit by the harsh glare of halogen work lights. In the center stood Don Bellini, leaning on his silver cane, surrounded by a dozen heavily armed men.

And pulling into the courtyard, alone, was Luca’s black sedan.

Luca stepped out of the car. He wasn't holding a weapon. He was holding the black leather ledger.

He didn't even make it three steps.

“Hold it right there, Luca,” Bellini rasped, raising his hand.

I looked up. In the shadows of the massive yellow cranes towering over the yard, I saw the faint, red glint of laser sights clicking on. Three red dots appeared on Luca’s chest.

Luca stopped. He looked at the laser sights, realizing instantly that he had miscalculated.

“You think a little black book scares me, boy?” Bellini laughed, a dry, rattling sound. “I’ve survived federal investigations, rival wars, and heart attacks. A ledger is just paper. But you... you are a problem.”

“If I die, this ledger goes straight to the FBI,” Luca said, his voice perfectly calm despite the lasers on his heart.

“Let them have it,” Bellini shrugged. “I have enough money in the Cayman Islands to disappear tomorrow. But I’m not leaving this city with a half-breed bastard sitting on the Moretti throne. Where is the boy?”

“Gone,” Luca said, a fierce, triumphant smile touching his lips. “Somewhere you will never find him.”

Bellini’s face hardened. “Then I will settle for you.”

The old man raised his cane, signaling the snipers to fire.

“Wait!” I screamed, stepping out from behind the shipping container.

Every gun in the courtyard swung toward me. Luca spun around, the color completely draining from his face when he saw me standing in the rain.

“Emma! What are you doing here?!” Luca roared, stepping forward, desperate to put himself between me and the guns.

“Stop right there, Luca,” Bellini warned, the snipers re-centering on his chest.

I walked slowly into the light, my hands raised. I was terrified, my knees shaking, but I forced myself to stand tall.

“Don Bellini,” I said, my voice echoing in the massive yard. “You don't want a war. You don't want the FBI looking into your accounts. You just want insurance that Oliver won’t challenge your bloodline.”

The old man narrowed his eyes. “Who is this girl, Luca? Your new maid?”

“I’m the woman who has what you actually want,” I said.

I reached into my wet coat pocket.

The guards tensed, but I moved slowly. I pulled out a small, heavy silver object and held it up in the harsh light.

It was Alessandro’s shattered silver pocket watch.

“Oliver gave this to me,” I lied smoothly, praying my voice wouldn't crack. “It’s the key to Alessandro’s hidden offshore accounts. Fifty million dollars of clean, untraceable money that Marco never found.”

Bellini’s eyes locked onto the silver watch. The greed in his face was immediate and undeniable.

“Give it to me,” Bellini demanded.

“If you let Luca walk away,” I countered. “You take the watch, you take the money, and you leave Chicago. Luca keeps the syndicate, but you get the cash. A clean break.”

Luca stared at me, realizing exactly what I was doing. The watch was worthless. It was just a broken heirloom. But Bellini didn't know that.

The old man considered it, his eyes darting between me, the watch, and Luca.

Fifty million dollars was enough to retire like a king.

“Bring it here,” Bellini ordered.

I began to walk toward him.

But as I stepped past Luca, the mob boss moved with terrifying speed.