THE SISTER SHE NEVER WANTED TO BE

The silver key dangled from Sophia's small fingers, catching the light of the chandeliers.

Vanessa stared at it as if it were a loaded gun.

"Give me that key," Vanessa hissed, taking a sudden step toward the little girl.

Before Luca could even move, I stepped directly in front of Sophia.

I didn't think about my job. I didn't think about my father's surgery or the mortgage. I just saw a woman trying to intimidate a grieving child, and my body reacted on instinct.

"Don't take another step toward her, ma'am," I said, my voice surprisingly steady despite the violent pounding of my heart.

Vanessa stopped, her eyes flashing with absolute venom. "You insolent little maid. I will ruin you."

"You won't touch her," Luca said.

He didn't raise his voice. He didn't have to. The authority radiating from him was heavy enough to crush the air out of the room.

He looked at me. "Megan."

"Yes, Mr. Moretti?"

"Go to the attic. Find the wooden box. Bring it to me."

"Luca, this is insane!" Vanessa cried, her voice pitching into hysteria. "You're letting a thirteen-year-old dictate our engagement dinner based on a hallucination her dying mother had three years ago!"

Luca ignored her. He took the silver key from Sophia and placed it gently in my unburned hand.

"Go," he told me.

I turned and walked as fast as I could without running. I pushed through the swinging doors into the kitchen, ignoring the shocked faces of the catering staff, and hurried up the back servant stairs.

The mansion was massive, and the attic was on the fourth floor. By the time I reached the heavy oak door at the top of the narrow stairs, I was out of breath.

I flipped the light switch. The attic was dusty, filled with antique furniture draped in white sheets.

I searched frantically. Behind a stack of old oil paintings, tucked inside a cedar chest, I found it.

It was a dark mahogany box, roughly the size of a large humidor.

I fit the silver key into the brass lock. It turned with a satisfying click.

I opened the lid.

Inside wasn't money. It wasn't jewelry.

It was a stack of handwritten letters, all bound together with a faded blue ribbon. And resting on top of the letters was a thick, legal document with a gold notary seal.

I lifted the document, my eyes scanning the heavy print at the top.

Last Will and Testament of Victoria Bellini.

I frowned. Victoria was Vanessa and Caroline's mother.

I opened the document and read the first paragraph. My stomach completely dropped.

Vanessa had just told twenty-six people that her mother died poor, leaving everything to Caroline and abandoning Vanessa to a life of poverty.

But the will proved the exact opposite.

Victoria Bellini hadn't died poor. She had inherited a massive estate in Italy from her second husband. And the will explicitly stated that her entire fortune—millions of dollars—was to be divided equally between her two daughters, Caroline and Vanessa.

Vanessa hadn't been abandoned. She had been rich for a decade.

So why was she pretending to be a self-made woman who clawed her way out of poverty?

I folded the document, locked the box, and ran back downstairs.

When I pushed through the dining room doors, the tension was so thick it felt suffocating. Luca was standing beside his daughter. Vanessa was pacing near the windows, aggressively chewing on her thumbnail.

I walked up to the head of the table and handed the box to Luca.

He set it down next to the ruined bowl of tomato soup.

He opened the lid.

He bypassed the letters and picked up the legal document. I watched his eyes track across the page. His jaw clenched so hard I thought his teeth would shatter.

Luca looked up.

"You told me you paid your way through college by working triple shifts at a diner," Luca said softly.

Vanessa froze. "I did."

Luca dropped the will onto the white tablecloth.

"Your mother left you six million dollars when you were twenty-two years old."

The guests gasped.

Vanessa stared at the document, her face turning the color of ash. "That... that money was tied up in probate! I never saw a dime of it!"

"Don't lie to me," Luca growled, his mafia edge finally breaking through his polished exterior. "You had millions. And Caroline knew it. Which begs the question..."

He reached into the box and pulled out one of the letters. He untied the blue ribbon.

He unfolded the paper. It was Caroline's handwriting.

Luca read it aloud, his voice thick with emotion.

‘Vanessa came to the house again today. She threatened to tell Luca about our mother unless I gave her another fifty thousand. She says she lost everything in a bad investment. She says the men she owes money to will hurt her if I don't pay. I can't tell Luca. He has enough enemies. If he finds out she's involved with the Rossi family, he will kill them all, and I won't let my husband go back to war.’

The silence was deafening.

Vanessa hadn't just been blackmailing Caroline.

She was in debt to the Rossi family—Luca's oldest and most violent rivals.

Luca slowly lowered the letter.

He looked at the woman he was supposed to marry in three days.

"You were using my wife to pay off the Rossis," Luca whispered.

"I had no choice!" Vanessa screamed, the facade completely destroyed. "They were going to kill me, Luca! I made a bad investment with their money. I didn't know who they were!"

"And when Caroline ran out of money?" Luca asked, taking a slow step toward her. "When her personal accounts were drained?"

Vanessa backed away, hitting the edge of the dining table. "I didn't hurt her! I swear to God, Luca, I didn't hurt her!"

"Then who did?"

The question didn't come from Luca.

It came from a man sitting at the far end of the table.