SECRETS IN THE SYNDICATE

Luca stood entirely motionless in the dark tunnel.

The flashlight beam trembled, casting long, erratic shadows against the stone walls.

"Your mother," Luca breathed, the words barely escaping his throat. "You're telling me Marco had a secret family. A daughter."

"Me," Claire said, wiping her face with the back of her uninjured hand. "My mother was Elena Dawson. She thought Marco was a legitimate businessman. When she found out what he really did, she tried to leave. She packed our bags. But he found us."

Claire’s voice dropped to a hollow whisper. "I was eight. She hid me in the floorboards. I listened to him shoot her. I saw his shoes. And I saw the blue silk tie he always wore."

Leo whimpered slightly, sensing the heavy tension. Luca gently rubbed the boy's back, never taking his eyes off Claire.

"You've been in my house for six months," Luca said, his mind re-evaluating every interaction he'd ever had with the quiet, efficient maid. "You were looking for evidence against Marco."

"I thought you knew," Claire admitted, her voice shaking but defiant. "I thought the whole family covered it up. But when I found out Marco was supposedly dead... I stayed to find the truth. I needed to know if he was really gone. And tonight, when Leo showed you that torn tie..."

"You realized your mother’s killer is still alive," Luca finished.

He lowered the flashlight. The betrayal stung, but beneath it, Luca felt a profound wave of respect. She hadn't come for money. She had come for justice. And despite her hatred for his family, she had still risked her own life to save his nephew.

"I didn't cover it up, Claire," Luca said softly. "I swear to you on my life, I didn't know."

Claire looked at his dark eyes. In the shadows of the tunnel, stripped of his expensive suits and imposing desk, he looked sincere. He looked tired.

"I believe you," she whispered.

"Come on," Luca said, extending his free hand to help her up. "We need to keep moving. If Marco is alive, he won't stop until he gets Leo."

They hurried down the remainder of the tunnel, finally reaching a heavy iron door. Luca pushed it open, revealing a dusty, abandoned carriage house. Under a tarp sat a matte black SUV.

Luca strapped Leo into the back seat, then tossed the keys to Claire.

"You drive," he said, pulling an assault rifle from a hidden compartment in the trunk. "My face is too recognizable. Keep your head down."

Claire didn't argue. She climbed into the driver’s seat. Despite her throbbing left hand, she gripped the steering wheel and started the engine. The V8 roared to life, violently loud in the quiet night.

They tore out of the carriage house, taking the back dirt roads away from the estate.

Rain had started to fall, slicking the Chicago streets. Claire drove toward a location Luca gave her—an old, closed-down bakery in the South Side that he owned under a shell company.

"Turn on the radio," Luca ordered from the passenger seat, his eyes scanning the rearview mirror.

Claire flicked it on. The local news station was broadcasting an emergency bulletin.

“—massive gas explosion reported at the Moretti estate in Lake Forest. First responders are on the scene, battling a three-alarm fire that has engulfed the main house. Early reports suggest foul play. The whereabouts of billionaire Luca Moretti are currently unknown…”

Luca let out a dark, bitter laugh. "Vanessa. She didn't want a clean assassination. She wants to burn the whole legacy to the ground and play the grieving widow."

"If the house is gone," Claire realized, her stomach dropping, "they'll assume you and Leo died in the fire. They won't even look for you."

"Which gives us a window," Luca said, his jaw set. "A very small one."

In the back seat, Leo unbuckled his seatbelt. "Uncle Luca?"

"I told you to stay buckled, buddy," Luca said gently, turning around.

Leo climbed over the center console, holding something small and rectangular in his hand.

"The bad lady dropped this in my room," Leo said softly. "When she came in with the ghost man."

Luca frowned. He took the object from the boy’s small hand.

It was a cheap, disposable burner phone.

Claire glanced over as she drove. "Vanessa dropped that?"

"She must have panicked when Marco couldn't find Leo right away," Luca muttered, pressing the screen. It lit up. No passcode.

Luca opened the call history. There was only one number. It had been dialed three times in the last hour.

"Let's see who her handler really is," Luca said.

He hit dial and put the phone on speaker.

It rang twice.

Then, a voice answered. It wasn't Marco. It wasn't Julian.

"Is the boss dead yet, Vanessa?" the voice asked, sharp and impatient. "The fire is spreading too fast. We need to confirm his body before the fire department gets inside."

Claire gasped, the car swerving slightly on the wet road.