TAKE OFF THAT UNIFORM AND GIVE IT TO HER! SHE'S THE ONE WHO DESERVES YOUR JOB!” THE MAFIA BOSS'S FIANCÉE HUMILIATED HIS 25-YEAR-OLD MAID IN FRONT OF FORTY DINNER GUESTS

I stared at the crayon drawing in my hand, the world tilting violently on its axis.

Daddy Marcus.

Marcus? The head of security? The man who had just hauled Vanessa away? The man who had seemingly stood by Luca’s side through this entire nightmare?

I looked up. The room was still bathed in the warm, tearful glow of the family reunion. Luca was holding his wife and the boy he believed was his son. Caroline was weeping with joy. Natalie was smiling.

Nobody noticed me slipping the crumpled paper into my apron pocket.

My mind raced back through the events of the past few hours. Marcus had been the one to find the New York Commission outside. He had been the one to tell Luca they were outmanned. He had been the one to conveniently wheel Vanessa away, alone, to hand her over to "the authorities."

And then I remembered something else.

Six years ago, when Caroline supposedly drowned, Luca wasn't there. He had been out of town on business. The man assigned to protect her that day... was Marcus.

A wave of nausea washed over me.

Vanessa was a psychopath, yes. But she couldn't have pulled off a fake drowning, kidnapping, and a secret underground bunker all by herself. She needed muscle. She needed someone on the inside.

She needed Marcus.

"Emily?"

I jumped. Luca was looking at me, his eyes softening. "You look pale. You should go rest. You've done more than enough tonight."

"I... yes, sir," I stammered, backing toward the door. "I'll go to my quarters."

"Take tomorrow off. Take the whole week off. With pay," Luca said, pulling Caroline closer. "We'll talk about a proper reward for you when the dust settles."

I nodded quickly and stepped out into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind me.

I didn't go to my room.

I ran down the back stairs and slipped outside into the freezing night. The estate was eerily quiet now. Luca’s men were patrolling the perimeter, but the main driveway was clear.

I needed to find the security office. It was located in a detached stone building near the front gates. If Marcus was the traitor, there had to be proof.

I stayed in the shadows of the tall hedges, my teeth chattering in the cold. When I reached the security building, the lights were off. I pressed my face against the glass. Empty.

I tested the handle. Unlocked.

I slipped inside, closing the door quietly behind me. The room smelled like stale coffee and cigar smoke. I turned on my phone’s flashlight and moved toward Marcus's desk.

I started pulling open drawers. Empty clipboards, schedules, old radios.

Then, I opened the bottom drawer. It was locked, but a heavy metal paperweight on the desk made quick work of the cheap latch.

Inside the drawer was a heavy, folded wool coat.

It was a woman’s coat. Navy blue, lined with silk. I recognized it instantly from the photographs Vanessa had forced me to take down. It was the coat Caroline had been wearing the day she disappeared.

My hands trembled as I pulled the coat out.

Beneath it was a thick manila envelope.

I opened it and spilled the contents onto the desk.

Stacks of wire transfer receipts. Millions of dollars moved from a dummy corporation in the Cayman Islands directly into a private account under Marcus’s name. The transfers happened once a month, every month, for the last six years.

And at the bottom of the pile was a birth certificate.

Name: Leo.

Mother: Caroline Reed.

Father: Marcus Vance.

A choked gasp escaped my lips.

Vanessa hadn't just imprisoned Caroline. She had allowed Marcus to abuse her. Leo wasn't Luca's son. He was the product of a monster who had kept Caroline locked in the dark.

"You shouldn't be snooping, little maid."

The voice came from the darkness behind me.

Before I could turn, a massive hand clamped down on the back of my neck, slamming my face forward into the desk. The flashlight clattered to the floor, plunging the room into shadows.

Pain exploded in my forehead. I groaned, tasting blood in my mouth.

Marcus grabbed my hair and wrenched my head back, pressing the cold steel of a gun against my temple.

"I was going to let you live," Marcus whispered, his breath hot and reeking of peppermint against my ear. "You were just a pawn. But you just couldn't stop playing detective, could you?"

"You're a traitor," I choked out, tears of pain stinging my eyes. "Luca trusted you."

Marcus laughed, a low, cruel sound. "Luca is a fool. He was so blinded by grief, he never noticed the truth right in front of him. Vanessa paid me a fortune to help her get rid of Caroline. But Caroline was so... pretty. I couldn't just let her die in the river. So, I kept her. Vanessa got the brother she was obsessed with, and I got a pet."

My stomach heaved. The sheer depravity of it was suffocating.

"And Leo?" I asked, stalling for time, my hands desperately searching the desk for anything sharp.

"The boy was an accident," Marcus sneered. "Vanessa wanted to kill him. I told her he could be useful. And I was right. Tonight, when the Commission showed up, Vanessa panicked. She wanted to blow the house. I let her think she was in control, but I tipped off the New York boys myself."

"Why?" I gasped.

"Because whoever kills Luca Moretti gets his throne," Marcus said coldly. "The Commission promised me control of the Chicago docks once Luca was dead. Vanessa was going to be my scapegoat. But Luca survived. And you disarmed the bomb."

He pressed the gun harder against my skull.

"So now, I have to finish the job myself," Marcus said. "I'm going to shoot you, drag your body out back, and then I'm going to walk up to the master suite and put a bullet in my boss’s head while he’s holding my bastard son."

My fingers brushed against the heavy metal paperweight I had used to break the lock.

"Any last words, Emily?" Marcus mocked.

"Yes," I whispered, gripping the heavy iron.

I swung backward with everything I had.

The heavy iron paperweight smashed directly into Marcus’s kneecap.

There was a sickening CRACK.

Marcus roared in agony, his grip releasing my hair as his leg gave out. The gun fired into the ceiling, raining plaster down on us.

I didn't wait. I scrambled over the desk, grabbed the manila envelope, and bolted for the door.

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" Marcus screamed, dragging himself across the floor.