THE HOUSEMAID'S SECRET AND THE MAFIA'S HEIR

Adrian hit the heavy oak door of Leo’s bedroom with his shoulder, bursting into the room with the force of a battering ram. I was right behind him, my heart hammering in my throat.

The cold night wind whipped through the massive, floor-to-ceiling window, which had been completely shattered. Shards of glass littered the expensive wool rug, glittering like ice in the moonlight.

In the center of the room, a man dressed entirely in black tactical gear was dragging a kicking, screaming Leo toward the broken window.

“Daddy!” Leo shrieked, his small hands clawing desperately at the man’s thick leather gloves.

“Let him go!” Adrian bellowed, drawing a sleek black handgun from his shoulder holster with terrifying speed.

He aimed squarely at the man’s chest, but the intruder anticipated the move. He violently yanked Leo upward, using the tiny six-year-old boy as a human shield.

Adrian froze, his finger rigid on the trigger. He couldn't risk the shot.

I didn't have a gun. I didn't have tactical training. But I had spent fourteen months watching Leo grow, comforting him after nightmares, and reading him to sleep.

I didn't think. I just moved.

I grabbed a heavy bronze lamp off the nightstand, sprinted across the room, and swung it with every ounce of strength I had directly at the back of the intruder’s knees.

The heavy bronze connected with a sickening crunch.

The man grunted in pain, his leg buckling beneath him. As he stumbled forward, his grip on Leo loosened just enough.

I snatched Leo by his pajama shirt, ripping him out of the man’s grasp, and threw myself backward onto the floor, curling my body entirely around the little boy to protect him.

The intruder recovered quickly, pulling a serrated combat knife from his belt. He lunged toward me, raising the blade.

BANG.

Adrian fired.

The bullet grazed the intruder’s shoulder, spinning him around and sending his knife clattering across the wooden floor.

The man cursed violently, clutching his bleeding arm. Realizing he was outgunned, he scrambled backward toward the shattered window. As he vaulted over the broken frame into the darkness of the balcony, something snagged on the jagged glass.

With a sharp snap, a piece of jewelry tore from the man’s neck and fell onto the rug.

Adrian rushed to the window, aiming out into the darkness, but the intruder had already repelled down the side of the mansion and vanished into the labyrinth of the formal gardens.

“Are you hurt?” Adrian spun around, rushing to my side. He dropped to his knees, his hands frantically checking Leo for injuries.

“We’re okay,” I gasped, my chest heaving. Leo was sobbing hysterically, burying his face in my neck.

Just then, Eleanor Hayes appeared in the doorway, supported by two of Adrian’s security guards. The elderly woman took one look at the shattered window and the blood on the floor, and pressed a hand to her chest.

“Did he get away?” Eleanor asked, her voice breathless.

“Yes,” Adrian growled, his eyes dark with murderous fury. “But he left something behind.”

Adrian stood up and walked over to the shattered window. He reached down and picked up the object that had snagged on the glass.

It was a heavy, antique silver rosary. The beads were worn smooth from years of use, and a distinct, intricate cross dangled from the end.

Eleanor let out a sharp, devastated gasp.

Her cane slipped from her trembling hand, clattering loudly onto the floor. She stared at the silver rosary in Adrian’s hand as if it were a ghost.

“No,” Eleanor whispered, tears instantly flooding her wrinkled eyes. “It can’t be. It’s impossible.”

Adrian looked at her, his brow furrowing. “You recognize this?”

“I bought it in Rome forty-five years ago,” Eleanor said, her voice breaking into a sob. “I gave it to my son, Michael, on his sixteenth birthday. He never took it off.”

My mind spun. “Your son? Your son is the hitman?”

“My son is dead!” Eleanor cried out, covering her face. “He died in a car crash twenty years ago! The police said he drove off a cliff in the rain!”

Adrian’s jaw locked. He looked closely at the silver cross. Engraved on the back were the initials M.H.

“If your son is dead,” Adrian said slowly, his mind connecting the terrifying dots, “then whoever broke into this room just intentionally wore his rosary to frame your family for my son’s kidnapping.”

Vanessa, who had followed the guards into the room, suddenly let out a horrified whimper.

We all turned to look at her. She was staring at the rosary, her bleeding face completely pale.

“You know who that was,” Adrian realized, stepping toward her. “Who was the man in the mask, Vanessa?”

Vanessa shook her head frantically. “I can’t. If I tell you, he’ll kill me.”

“If you don't tell me,” Adrian roared, grabbing her by the arms, “I will throw you out that broken window right now!”

Vanessa broke. “It was my brother! Marcus! He’s the one pulling the strings!”

The room went dead silent.

“Your brother?” Adrian demanded.

“Yes!” Vanessa sobbed. “Our family was ruined when Harold and your father took over the southern ports! We grew up in poverty while you lived in a palace! Marcus spent twenty years planning to take it all back. He found Harold’s weak spots. He blackmailed him. He forced Harold to place me here to find the offshore ledger!”

I tightened my grip on Leo. “And he forged the letter to frame my father so he could steal the money clean.”

Vanessa nodded miserably.

Suddenly, a cold, mocking voice echoed from the balcony outside the broken window.

“You talk too much, little sister.”

We all spun around.

Marcus hadn't fled into the gardens. He had been hiding on the roof.