THE FOOTSTEPS ON THE CONCRETE STAIRS

Roman didn't say a word.

He didn't need to.

He dropped the two-way radio onto the marble table and walked past Blair as if she didn't exist. The air in the room seemed to freeze. Thirty-two wealthy guests parted like the Red Sea, their champagne flutes trembling in their hands.

“Roman!” Blair shrieked, finally finding her voice. She lunged for his arm. “Roman, Leo is just protecting the family! You know how unstable she is—”

Roman didn't even look at her. He just kept walking.

But I looked at Lily.

The eight-year-old girl was shaking, her tiny hands gripping the edges of her pink party dress. She didn't understand the mafia politics or the violence that shadowed her father’s name, but she understood that her mother was in danger.

I couldn't leave her here with Blair.

I scooped up the squashed bakery box, grabbed Lily’s hand, and followed my boss into the hallway.

“Come on, sweetie,” I whispered. “We’re going to find Mommy.”

The heavy steel door leading to the private basement garage was already wide open. Roman’s footsteps echoed loudly as he descended the concrete stairs. I carried Lily down right behind him, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The Castellano basement wasn’t a standard garage. It was a cavernous, poorly lit fortress meant for armored SUVs.

And standing in the center of it, under a flickering fluorescent bulb, was Sara.

She looked nothing like the glamorous mafia wife I had seen in old photographs. She was drenched in rain, shivering uncontrollably in a cheap, faded olive-green trench coat. Her dark hair was plastered to her cheeks.

And wrapped tightly around her bleeding right hand was a silver rosary.

“Sara,” Roman breathed, his voice cracking with a vulnerability I had never heard from the ruthless syndicate boss.

He took a step forward.

“Hold it right there, brother.”

A man stepped out from behind a black Escalade. Leo Castellano. Roman’s younger brother. He wore a sharp grey suit, and in his right hand, he held a suppressed 9mm pistol.

The gun was aimed directly at Sara’s chest.

“Daddy!” Lily screamed, burying her face into my apron.

Roman threw his arm back, blindly shielding me and Lily from the line of fire. His eyes never left his brother. “Put the gun down, Leo. Now.”

Leo laughed. It was a harsh, scraping sound. “You’ve gone soft, Roman. Blair told me this crazy bitch showed up at the gate. I came down here to clean up your mess. Like I always do.”

“She’s my wife,” Roman growled, taking another slow step forward.

“She’s a traitor,” Leo spat back. “She didn't come here to drop off a pathetic strawberry cake, Roman. She came here to steal from us.”

I frowned. That made no sense. I had watched Sara stand at the gate crying. She hadn’t tried to sneak in. She had buzzed the intercom like a normal person.

“She’s lying to you, brother,” Leo sneered. He took a step closer to Sara, who squeezed her eyes shut. “Tell him, Sara. Tell him what you were trying to smuggle out.”

Sara sobbed, shaking her head. “I just wanted to see my baby. It’s her birthday. Please, Leo...”

“Liar!” Leo barked. He reached roughly into the pocket of Sara’s wet trench coat.

Sara flinched, pulling away, but Leo yanked his hand back out.

He held up a small, dark blue velvet box.

Roman stopped dead in his tracks. I recognized that box instantly from the family vault upstairs.

Leo popped it open. Even in the dim light, the heavy, diamond-encrusted Castellano family heirloom ring gleamed brilliantly.

“She was caught red-handed,” Leo said, a victorious smirk spreading across his face. “She sneaked into the master suite, grabbed the ring, and tried to run. The cartel council demands blood for stealing from the family vault, Roman. You know the rules.”

Roman stared at the ring. The betrayal in his eyes was devastating. For a split second, I saw the doubt creep into his mind. He looked at Sara, his chest heaving.

“Sara?” Roman asked softly. “Did you take it?”

“No!” Sara cried out, clutching her rosary. “Roman, I swear to God, I’ve never seen that box before in my life! I don’t know how it got in my pocket!”

Leo raised the gun higher. “She’s playing you, Roman. Turn around. Take the kid upstairs. I’ll make it quick.”

Roman’s fists clenched. The tension in the garage was thick enough to choke on. He was a mafia boss. He had to abide by the rules of the syndicate. Stealing the heirloom was an absolute death sentence.

He took a slow breath, his eyes darkening.

I realized what was happening. Roman was going to let him do it. The evidence was right there in Leo’s hand.

I couldn't stay silent.

“She didn't steal it,” I blurted out.

Every head in the garage snapped toward me.

Roman turned, his dark eyes piercing right through me. “What did you just say, Emily?”

My hands were shaking so violently I nearly dropped the bakery box. My father’s nursing home bill flashed in my mind. If I spoke, I was dead. If I didn't, an innocent mother was going to die.

I squeezed Lily’s hand.

“I said she didn't steal it, sir,” I said, my voice echoing off the concrete walls. “Because an hour ago, while I was cleaning the dining room, I saw Blair take that exact velvet box out of her purse.”

Leo’s face contorted in rage.

“Shut your mouth, you stupid maid!” Leo roared.

Before Roman could react, Leo swung the barrel of the suppressed pistol away from Sara.