THROW THAT FILTHY BEAR AWAY! HE’S TEN YEARS OLD, NOT A BABY!” THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE HUMILIATED HIS SON FOR HOLDING THE LAST GIFT HIS DEAD MOTHER MADE FOR HIM—BUT WHEN THE 27-YEAR-OLD HOUSEKEEPER FELT SOMETHING HIDDEN INSIDE THE BEAR AND THE BOY WHISPERED, “MOM SAID ONLY DAD COULD OPEN IT,”

“Hello, Nephew,” Carmine Caruso purred, his thick Brooklyn accent echoing in the quiet hallway.

Carmine was seventy years old, leaning on a silver-tipped cane, but his eyes were as sharp and deadly as broken glass.

He shoved Sabrina forward. She stumbled and fell to the floor, her beautiful white gown now ruined and smeared with dirt. She was sobbing, clutching a leather briefcase to her chest.

Vincent stepped in front of us, shielding Leo, Elena, and the baby.

“Carmine,” Vincent said cautiously. “You’re out of your territory.”

“Family business brings me to Chicago, Vinnie,” the old man smiled, stepping into the master suite. His gaze swept over the room, lingering on Elena and the baby. “I see Daniel’s little secret finally came out. I told him he should have killed the twin when he had the chance. Sloppy.”

Daniel struggled to sit up against the wall, his hands still zip-tied. “Uncle Carmine! I have the forged papers! Just shoot him and take the boy!”

Carmine looked down at Daniel with utter disgust.

“You think I want to raise a ten-year-old brat, Daniel?” Carmine scoffed. “I don’t care about the boy. I care about the ledger.”

Carmine tapped his cane against Sabrina’s briefcase.

“This stupid girl tried to sell me the guardianship papers thirty minutes ago. She thought she could extort me. Tell him what you did, Sabrina.”

Sabrina looked up, her makeup running down her face in dark streaks.

“I didn’t have a choice!” she cried. “Daniel promised me half the money! But when Isabella found out, she moved the ledger! I tried to get it out of the boy!”

“The psychologist,” I breathed, realizing the truth.

Vincent turned to me. “What?”

“The doctor Sabrina brought to the house two weeks ago,” I explained quickly. “He wasn’t here to evaluate Leo. He was interrogating him. Trying to find out where Isabella hid the key.”

“Smart maid,” Carmine chuckled. He pointed his cane at Vincent. “Now, Vinnie. Hand over the key, and I’ll let you and the kids walk away. You take your territory, I take the ledger. Everyone is happy.”

Vincent crossed his arms. “You’re lying. The moment I give you that key, you’ll kill us all to ensure your claim on Chicago.”

“Probably,” Carmine shrugged. “But if you don’t give it to me, I kill you right now.”

Two massive enforcers stepped into the doorway behind Carmine, raising submachine guns.

We were completely trapped.

I looked at Leo. The little boy was terrified, clutching his torn teddy bear.

Suddenly, I remembered something.

“Mom said Arthur keeps secrets.”

I looked at the bear. Sabrina had torn the back open. Leo had pulled the key out.

But what if the key wasn’t the only thing inside?

I slowly knelt down next to Leo.

“Leo,” I whispered so quietly only he could hear. “Is there anything else inside Arthur?”

Leo looked at me, his eyes wide. He slowly nodded.

“Get it,” I whispered.

While Carmine was monologuing to Vincent, Leo reached his tiny fingers deep into the stuffing of the bear’s head.

He pulled out a small, black microcassette tape.

I discreetly slipped it into my apron pocket.

“Tick tock, Vinnie,” Carmine warned. “Give me the key.”

Vincent looked at Elena, then at his children. He knew he had no way out.

He slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out the brass key.

“Vincent, no!” Elena cried.

“I have to,” Vincent said softly. He tossed the key onto the floor at Carmine’s feet.

Carmine smiled, picking it up. “Good boy. Now, about that walking away part…”

Carmine raised his hand, signaling his men to execute us.

“Wait!” I shouted, stepping in front of Vincent.

Carmine raised an eyebrow. “The maid wants to die first? How romantic.”

“You have the key to the lockbox,” I said, my heart pounding so hard I thought it would burst. “But you don’t have the passcode.”

Carmine froze. “What passcode?”

“Union Station lockboxes require a physical key and a six-digit digital PIN,” I lied flawlessly. I had taken a train once a month to visit my mother; I knew exactly how the station lockers worked.

“She’s bluffing,” Daniel sneered from the floor.

“Am I?” I challenged, staring directly at Carmine. “Go ahead. Shoot us. You’ll have the key, but the locker has a failsafe. If you enter the wrong PIN three times, it permanently locks and alerts the station security. Good luck explaining to the feds why you’re breaking into a locker containing the biggest mafia ledger in history.”

Carmine’s smile vanished. He knew I might be right.

“What’s the code?” Carmine demanded.

“Only the boy knows it,” I said, putting a protective hand on Leo’s shoulder. “Take us to the station. If you let us go, he’ll open it for you.”

Carmine stared at me for a long, terrifying moment.