*THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE CALLED ME “A GREEDY LITTLE MAID” WHEN I REFUSED TO THROW AWAY 120 DINNERS MEANT FOR HOMELESS FAMILIES—BUT ONE PHONE CALL MADE LUCA STOP HIS ENTIRE ENGAGEMENT PARTY.

The silence in the cramped office felt heavy, suffocating.

Luca stared at the back of the photograph, his jaw tightening until a muscle ticked near his ear. The man who projected absolute control in ballrooms and boardrooms looked suddenly, devastatingly shaken.

"My mother despised Marcus Bellini," Luca said, his voice a lethal whisper. "She told me he was a vulture. Why would she pose like this with him? Why would she let him touch her?"

Mrs. Donovan looked at her hands, twisting her wedding ring anxiously.

"Because twenty-five years ago, before your father built his empire, Marcus Bellini was his business partner," she explained softly. "And Marcus was deeply, obsessively in love with your mother. When she chose your father, Marcus never forgave them."

I looked at the picture again. The way Marcus was holding her wasn't affectionate; it was possessive. A chill ran down my spine.

"What does she mean by 'He knows what's underneath'?" I asked, looking up at Luca.

"I don't know," Luca said, scanning the worn floorboards of the office. "But Vanessa didn't forge that eviction notice out of spite. Her father told her to do it. Marcus wants this building destroyed. Fast."

Mrs. Donovan's face drained of color. "Luca... the city zoning inspector came by yesterday. A man in a very expensive suit was with him. They spent an hour down in the old chapel."

"Marcus," Luca breathed. "He was here."

"Did they take anything?" I asked quickly.

"I don't think so," Mrs. Donovan said. "They left looking frustrated. But after they drove away, one of our kids found something they left behind."

She walked over to a small lost-and-found bin and pulled out a delicate object.

It was a heavy, silver charm bracelet. The chain was snapped in half, as if it had been caught on something and pulled violently.

Luca took it from her. He rubbed his thumb over the main charm—a silver dove.

"This is my mother's," Luca said, his voice breaking. "She was wearing this the night she died. The police told us it was lost in the car crash."

My heart hammered against my ribs. If Luca's mother died in a hit-and-run car crash twenty years ago, and her missing bracelet was just found inside the shelter today...

"Marcus had it," I realized aloud. "He was in the chapel yesterday. He must have snagged it on something and it broke."

"He kept it as a trophy," Luca snarled, a terrifying darkness settling into his eyes. "He killed her. He ran her off the road, took her bracelet, and now he's trying to tear down her shelter."

"We need to see the chapel," I said.

Mrs. Donovan led us down a dark, narrow hallway to the back of the building. The old chapel hadn't been used for religious services in decades. It was currently serving as a storage room for donated winter coats and blankets.

The air was stale and smelled of dust and old wax.

"Where did the child find the bracelet?" Luca asked.

"Over by the old cast-iron radiator," Mrs. Donovan pointed to the far corner, near the altar.

Luca and I walked over. The radiator was massive, bolted to the floor. The wooden floorboards around it were heavily scuffed, as if someone had been prying at them with a tool.

I knelt down, tracing the deep scratches in the wood.

"They were trying to lift this board," I said, using my fingernails to pry at the edge. "It's loose."

Luca knelt beside me. His large, powerful hands gripped the edge of the oak plank. With a sharp pull, the old nails groaned, and the board snapped upward.

Beneath the floor was a dark, hollow space between the joists.

I reached my hand inside. My fingers brushed against something thick and covered in dust.

I pulled it out.

It was a heavy, leather-bound ledger. The cover was cracked with age.

Luca took it from me and opened it. The pages were filled with handwritten financial entries, dating back twenty-five years. I recognized the neat, precise handwriting immediately—it was the same cursive from the back of the photograph. His mother's.

"It's a shadow ledger," Luca whispered, reading the columns. "Records of bribes. Extortion payouts. Illegal land grabs."

"Your father's?" I asked gently.

"No," Luca said, his eyes widening. "The names on the receiving end... these are city councilmen, judges, police captains. And the accounts paying them belong to Bellini Holdings."

I realized what we were holding.

"Marcus Bellini built his entire real estate empire on corruption," I said. "And your mother found out."

"She kept the receipts," Luca said, a fierce, proud smile touching his lips. "She was going to expose him. That's why he killed her. And that's why he's trying to tear this building down before anyone else finds it."

Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of the chapel slammed open.

Standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the dim hallway lights, was Marcus Bellini. He was flanked by three massive men in dark suits.

"I always hated how smart your mother was, Luca," Marcus said, his voice echoing in the empty room. "But she was careless. Just like you."

One of the men raised a heavy sledgehammer.