THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME UNTIE A HOUSEMAID'S APRON FROM HIS ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER IN THE MIDDLE OF HIS ENGAGEMENT DINNER—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “

Luca stared at the brass key resting against his daughter’s dress.

He reached out slowly, his bruised fingers brushing the cold metal.

"Do you know what this goes to, Emily?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

Emily shook her head. "Mommy just said it was in the basement. She said to look for the wooden trunk with the iron hinges. The one from her childhood home."

Luca closed his eyes. A sharp breath escaped his lips.

"I moved that trunk down there myself," he whispered. "After she died. I couldn't bear to look at it."

He stood up, his jaw set. "Claire, stay here with Emily. Lock the kitchen doors. Do not let anyone in until I come back."

"Mr. Moretti, wait," I said, my voice shaking slightly. "Vanessa is upstairs packing. She knows the truth is coming out. She might try to run before you get answers."

Luca’s dark eyes hardened. "The security gates are locked. Nobody leaves this property without my permission. Lock the doors, Claire."

I nodded, hurrying to the thick oak doors and turning the deadbolts. The heavy click echoed loudly.

Emily climbed back onto the stool, her little hands gripping the edge of the counter. "Is Vanessa going to jail like Uncle Marcus?"

"I don't know, honey," I answered honestly, grabbing a wet paper towel to clean the cut on my cheek. "But she can't hurt you anymore."

We sat in silence for what felt like an eternity. The giant house above us felt restless, groaning under the weight of its own secrets.

Then, ten minutes later, a heavy knock pounded on the kitchen doors.

I jumped. Emily gasped.

"Claire. Open the door."

It was Luca.

I hurried over and unbolted the lock.

Luca walked in. In his hands, he held a thick, leather-bound journal. The brass clasp on the front had been unlocked.

He looked pale. Devastated.

He walked over to the kitchen island and set the journal down under the bright overhead lights.

"Caroline kept a diary," he said quietly. "She wrote in it every day she was sick."

Emily looked at the book. "Did she write about me?"

Luca gave a sad, broken smile. "She wrote about you on every single page, baby. She loved you more than breathing."

He opened the book to the final pages. The handwriting was erratic, shaky—the writing of a woman whose body was failing her.

"Read this," Luca said, pointing to a paragraph near the bottom.

I leaned in.

‘Vanessa came today. She brought tea. It tasted bitter. I poured it into the potted fern when she wasn’t looking. The fern died three days later. She is trying to accelerate things. I heard her on the phone with Marcus. They need me gone before Luca reviews the quarterly audits next month.’

I gasped, covering my mouth with my hands.

"She was poisoning her," I whispered. "The fall down the stairs wasn't just to stop Caroline from talking. It was because the poison wasn't working fast enough."

Luca’s hands gripped the edge of the counter. "My wife knew. She knew they were trying to kill her, and she was trying to collect evidence before she told me. She didn't want me to think she was just paranoid from the medication."

"But why did Vanessa lie at the hospital?" I asked. "Why tell Emily her mother didn't want to see her?"

Luca flipped the page.

‘I am running out of time. My organs are failing. The doctors say it’s the disease, but I know it’s what Vanessa gave me. I begged the nurse to let me see Emily. I need to give Emily the watch. I need to tell her to give it to her father. If Vanessa finds out I have it, she will hurt my baby. She threatened to make Emily 'have an accident' if I ever told Luca about Marcus.’

Emily let out a small, terrified sob.

Luca pulled his daughter into his arms. "I've got you. I've got you."

He looked at me over Emily's shoulder.

"Vanessa didn't keep Emily away out of spite," Luca realized, his voice trembling with dark realization. "She kept Emily away because she knew Caroline was going to tell her to hand me the watch. Vanessa was protecting herself."

Suddenly, the kitchen phone on the wall rang.

The shrill sound made us all jump.

Luca picked it up. "Yes."

He listened for a moment. His expression turned to stone.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

He hung up the phone and looked at me.

"That was the security guard at the front gate," Luca said. "Vanessa didn't go to her room to pack."

"Where did she go?" I asked.

"She went to the garage. She took my secondary car. But she didn't try to leave the property."

Luca looked at Emily.

"She drove down toward the lake behind the estate."

My stomach plummeted. The lake was deep, freezing, and completely isolated from the main house.

"Why would she go there?" I asked.

Luca reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone. He dialed a number and put it on speaker.

"Answer me," Luca muttered.

The line clicked.

"Hello, Luca."

It was Vanessa. Her voice was terrifyingly calm.

"Where are you, Vanessa?" Luca asked.

"I'm sitting in your beautiful Mercedes, down by the water," she replied. "It's so peaceful out here."

"Get out of the car. The police are coming."

Vanessa let out a soft laugh. "No, they aren't. Because if you call the police, I'll press a button on this phone, and a certain wire transfer will go through."

Luca frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Marcus wasn't just embezzling, Luca," Vanessa purred. "He was laundering money through the cartel accounts. He was sloppy. Left a massive paper trail. And I just spent the last ten minutes uploading it all to an encrypted server. If you don't let me drive out of those gates with five million dollars, I hit send, and the cartel finds out you lost their money."