PART 2: THE MAFIA BOSS'S SECRET KEEPER

The storm broke as we reached Miller's Point, replacing the freezing rain with a thick, suffocating coastal fog.

The old lighthouse cut a jagged silhouette against the crashing waves. Two black sedans were parked near the cliff edge, guarded by three men smoking cigarettes in the mist.

"We can't just storm the front door," Ethan's security chief whispered from the rocks. "If Marcus hears gunfire, the boy is the first one over the edge."

I looked down at my black maid's uniform and the white apron I was still wearing.

"I'll go in first," I said.

Ethan turned to me, horrified. "Absolutely not, Lucy. You're a civilian."

"I'm a maid," I corrected him. "And a catering van is parked right next to those sedans. Marcus ordered food. He's arrogant enough to think he's already won. If I walk up there carrying a tray, they won't even look at my face."

Claire grabbed my hand. "It's too dangerous."

"My mother cleaned houses for invisible men her whole life," I said, tying my apron tighter. "I know how to be a ghost."

Ethan hesitated, then handed me a small, discreet earpiece. "Keep the channel open. The second you see Leo, say the word 'check.' We breach on your signal."

I grabbed a silver tray from the abandoned catering van, loaded it with coffee thermoses, and walked up the gravel path. My heart hammered against my ribs, but I kept my head down, my posture submissive.

"Catering," I mumbled to the guards at the door.

They barely glanced at me, stepping aside to let me enter the damp, echoing base of the lighthouse.

I climbed the spiral iron staircase, the sound of the ocean roaring outside. When I reached the lantern room at the top, I stopped.

Marcus was sitting at a rusted iron table, reviewing a stack of legal documents.

Sitting on a stool in the corner, clutching a stuffed bear, was a terrified five-year-old boy. Leo.

"Put the coffee on the desk," Marcus ordered without looking up.

I walked forward, my hands shaking. I set the tray down.

"Check," I whispered.

Before the word fully left my lips, Marcus snapped his head up. He didn't look at my face. He looked directly at the silver tray I had just placed on his table.

"You're using the wrong polish," Marcus said softly.

He pulled a gun from his jacket and aimed it straight at my head.

"I recognize you from the dining room, Lucy," Marcus smiled, a cold, dead expression in his eyes. "You really are a devoted employee."

I backed away, raising my hands. "Let the boy go, Marcus. Ethan is already here."

"I know he is," Marcus laughed. "That was the point."

He reached into his pocket and tossed something onto the iron table. It hit the metal with a heavy clink.

I stared at it. All the breath left my lungs.

It was a tarnished silver rosary. The beads were worn smooth, and the crucifix was missing the left arm.

"Do you know who this belonged to, Lucy?" Marcus asked, leaning back in his chair.

"That's my mother's," I whispered, my vision swimming. My mother had died three years ago. That rosary was buried with her.

"Your mother cleaned for my father twenty years ago," Marcus said, his smile vanishing. "She didn't just dust the shelves, Lucy. She found the real ledgers. The ones proving that Ethan's precious father was the one who framed my family for the embezzlement."

I shook my head. "You're lying."

"Am I?" Marcus stood up, grabbing Leo by the collar of his jacket. "Your mother hid the evidence to protect herself. She ruined my life. So now, Ethan is going to sign his life away to me, and you're going to tell me exactly where your mother hid that ledger."

The heavy iron doors at the bottom of the lighthouse crashed open. Ethan's men had breached.