**THE MAFIA BOSS'S FIANCÉE PULLED A LAVENDER CORSAGE FROM HIS 78-YEAR-OLD MOTHER'S DRESS IN FRONT OF THIRTY DINNER GUESTS—THEN SAID, “MR. ELLIS CANCELED. MAYBE HE FINALLY REALIZED HOW RIDICULOUS THIS LOOKS.” BUT WHEN LUCA SAW HIS MOTHER QUIETLY REMOVE HER WEDDING RING, HE PUT DOWN HIS GLASS.**

The dining room went dead silent.

I stood frozen near the sideboard, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Luca had a sister?

I had worked in this house for two years. I dusted the family photographs every Tuesday. I polished the antique frames on the mantel. There was a picture of Frank, Teresa, Michael, and Luca.

There was never a little girl.

Luca stared at his mother, the color draining completely from his face.

“My sister?” he repeated, the words sounding foreign in his own mouth.

Teresa sobbed, leaning heavily against a dining chair to keep from collapsing.

“Her name was Sofia,” Teresa whispered, the grief in her voice sounding exactly as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. “She was born three years before you, Luca.”

Luca shook his head slowly, taking a step toward her. “Mom, what are you talking about? I don’t have a sister.”

“You didn’t know her,” Michael snapped, his voice defensive and panicked. “You weren’t even born yet! Dad made us swear never to talk about her! To protect you!”

Luca spun toward his brother, his dark eyes flashing with a terrifying rage.

“To protect me from what?”

“From a war!” Michael yelled, gripping the leather briefcase tightly against his chest. “Carlo Bellini didn’t just kill her in a crossfire, Luca! He targeted her! He took her to send a message to Dad!”

Teresa covered her face, letting out a wail of absolute agony. George wrapped his arms around her, holding the frail woman as she broke down completely.

“He took my baby,” Teresa cried into George’s shoulder. “He put her in a car… and the car exploded.”

I felt physically sick. The guests in the room, hardened men of the syndicate, all lowered their eyes. This was the dark, bloody secret the Moretti family had buried to survive.

Luca stood perfectly still, processing the horrific truth.

His father hadn’t just built an empire. He had built a fortress to protect his remaining children, swallowing his grief to prevent a war he knew he would lose.

And now, thirty-six years later, his older brother was selling that very fortress to the man who murdered their sister.

“You sold our home to him,” Luca whispered, turning back to Michael.

“I secured our future!” Michael yelled, trying to sound authoritative but failing miserably. “Carlo is old! He’s trying to go legitimate! The casino deal makes us untouchable!”

“You traded our father’s ledger for a casino,” Luca stated, the anger hardening into ice.

Michael didn’t deny it. “Dad was a fool for keeping it! It’s the only piece of evidence that ties Carlo to the bombing! As long as we held it, Carlo was a threat! I gave it to him as a peace offering!”

“It wasn’t yours to give,” Luca said quietly.

Luca took one step toward his brother.

Michael stepped back, raising a hand. “Luca, don’t. The papers are signed. The ledger is gone. It’s over.”

“It’s not over,” Luca said.

Before Michael could react, Luca moved with terrifying speed. He grabbed Michael by the lapels of his suit, slammed him against the heavy mahogany doors of the dining room, and ripped the leather briefcase from his hands.

The briefcase hit the floor. The latches popped open.

Papers spilled out across the marble. Contracts. Blueprints for a casino.

But no black ledger.

“Where is it?” Luca roared, pinning Michael against the wood.

“I already gave it to Vanessa!” Michael choked out, his eyes wide with fear. “She took it to her father this afternoon!”

Luca froze.

Vanessa didn’t just leave the restaurant because he broke off the engagement. She left because she had already gotten exactly what she came for.

Luca dropped his brother.

Michael slumped against the door, gasping for air.

Luca turned to his security chief.

“Daniel. Lock down the restaurant. Nobody leaves. Take Michael to the basement office and don’t let him out of your sight.”

“Yes, boss.” Daniel grabbed Michael by the arm, dragging the protesting heir away.

Luca walked over to his mother. He gently pulled her away from George, holding her face in his hands.

“Mom, look at me,” Luca said softly.

Teresa opened her tear-filled eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Luca asked, his voice breaking.

“Your father made me promise,” Teresa wept. “He said if you ever found out, you would go after Carlo. He said he couldn’t lose another child.”

Luca kissed her forehead.

“He won’t lose me,” Luca promised.

He turned to George. “Take her upstairs. Keep her safe. Hannah, go with them.”

“Yes, Mr. Moretti,” I said quickly.

As I helped Teresa toward the staircase, I looked back at Luca.

He was picking up the scattered contracts from the floor. He looked at the Bellini signature on the bottom line.

Then he pulled out his phone again.

“Get the cars ready,” Luca ordered his men, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. “We’re going to the Bellini estate.”

I rushed Teresa up the stairs to the family apartment above the restaurant.

The apartment was a time capsule of Frank Moretti. Dark wood, heavy curtains, and the smell of garlic and old cigars.

George settled Teresa onto the velvet sofa, wrapping a thick knitted blanket around her shoulders. He sat beside her, holding her hand, murmuring soft, comforting words.

I went to the kitchen to make tea. My hands were shaking so badly I dropped a teaspoon on the floor.

When I bent down to pick it up, I noticed something strange near the baseboards beneath the kitchen sink.

The wood looked loose.

I knelt down, tracing my fingers over the edge of the wooden plank. There were fresh scratches on the wood, as if someone had hurriedly pried it open with a knife.

“Mr. Ellis,” I called out softly.

George appeared in the kitchen doorway. “What is it, Hannah?”

“Look at this,” I said, pointing to the loose floorboard.

George walked over and crouched down. He easily lifted the loose plank.

There was a dark, dusty hollow space beneath the floor.

But it wasn’t empty.

Lying in the dust, wrapped in an old, yellowed cloth, was a small, black leather book.

I stared at it, my heart pounding.

“The ledger,” I whispered.

George carefully picked it up. He unwrapped the cloth.

It was indeed a black ledger.

“But Michael said he gave it to Vanessa,” I said, confusion washing over me. “He said she took it to Carlo.”