THE WAITRESS HEARD THE MAFIA BOSS’S DEATH SENTENCE IN GERMAN—BUT HE WAS ALREADY REACHING FOR THE PEN** Blair Mercer knew the man at table seven was about to sign his own death warrant. The terrifying part was that he had no idea. And the only person in the room who understood what was really being said was the waitress everyone had stopped noticing. It was 11:45 p.m. inside the private dining room of

The Chicago shipping yards were a graveyard of rusted metal and towering cranes, battered by the midnight wind off the lake.

Blair stood in the shadows of a massive shipping container, pulling her coat tighter around her. She was terrified, but she wasn't the same panicked waitress from a month ago.

Footsteps crunched on the gravel.

Elise emerged from the fog. She looked exactly like she had across the street, wearing the faded trench coat, the silver pocket watch wrapped around her wrist.

“You came,” Elise said in German.

“You threatened a six-year-old girl,” Blair said, her voice hard. “I didn't have a choice. Who are you?”

“I was your father’s partner in Frankfurt,” Elise said. “I was the one who helped him funnel the five million out of Klaus’s accounts. We were going to split it and run. But Klaus caught him first. Your father hid the final routing number to the offshore account before he died.”

“I don't know where it is,” Blair said. “I gave Leo the ledger. I gave the Commission the ledger. There was nothing else.”

Elise raised her wrist, dangling the silver pocket watch.

“He left this for you,” Elise said. “I recovered it from the clinic after the police cleared the scene. Your father always said, if anything happened, the watch held the time.”

Blair frowned. “The time?”

“The clock face is broken,” Elise stepped closer. “It’s stuck at 10:42. But it’s not a time, Blair. It’s a locker number. Or a safety deposit box. You know him better than I do. Where is the money?”

Blair stared at the watch.

10:42.

Her mind raced back to her childhood. Her father’s obsession with numbers.

“It’s not a locker,” Blair breathed, the realization hitting her like a physical blow. “It’s a book cipher. It’s the Bible he gave me when I turned ten. Chapter 10, Verse 42.”

Elise’s eyes lit up with greedy triumph. “Where is the book?”

“It’s in my apartment,” Blair lied smoothly. The Bible was actually in the cardboard box in her bakery office.

Elise pulled a gun from her coat. “Take me there.”

Blair didn't move.

Because behind Elise, stepping silently out of the fog, was a massive figure.

Leo.

He didn't say a word. He simply raised the heavy flashlight in his hand and brought it down hard on the back of Elise’s skull.

Elise collapsed to the gravel, unconscious. The gun clattered away.

Blair exhaled a shaky breath, her knees almost buckling.

Leo stepped over the woman and pulled Blair into a fierce, crushing hug.

“You think you can lie to a guy who ran a crime syndicate for ten years?” Leo murmured into her hair. “You think I didn't notice you panic in the bakery? I’ve had Rocco tailing you all day.”

“She wanted the five million my father stole,” Blair confessed, pulling back to look at him. “Leo… my father was a thief.”

“Your father stole that money because I told him to,” Leo said gently, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I wanted to bankrupt Klaus. I authorized the theft. Your father was a loyal man trying to execute an impossible order.”

Blair stared at him. “The money is still out there. I know how to find the routing numbers.”

Leo looked down at Elise, then back to Blair.

“Let it rot,” Leo said firmly. “I don't care about the money. I care about you. We turn her over to the police for extortion. We walk away. For good this time.”