THE LEDGER, THE LIES, AND THE MAID WHO KNEW TOO MUCH

I dumped the broken pieces of my father’s watch onto the glass coffee table.

Luca walked over, his eyes locked on the battered silver casing.

“Your father never let this out of his sight,” Luca murmured. “Marco is alive. And he’s looking for whatever your father hid.”

I picked up the back plate of the watch. With a small butter knife from the dining room, Luca carefully pried the inner lining loose.

A tiny, flat brass key fell onto the glass with a sharp clink.

Engraved on the bow of the key were four letters: F.N.B.C.

“First National Bank of Chicago,” Luca read. “There’s a branch three blocks from your father’s old bus depot.”

“Marco wasn’t killed,” I said, trying to piece it together. “He faked his death. And my dad helped him?”

“Or Marco forced him to,” Luca said grimly. “Marco knew Vanessa killed Sarah. He must have used that leverage against her brother, Marcus, to help him disappear with the family money. But Arthur kept the insurance policy.”

I looked at Ben, who was watching us intently. I signed to him. We found a key. It belongs to my dad.

Ben nodded, but his eyes darted toward the large bay windows overlooking the dark driveway. He signed, Someone is in the yard.

Luca instantly drew a handgun from a shoulder holster under his jacket. He stepped in front of Ben and me, turning off the living room lamps.

Outside, a shadow moved across the manicured lawn. It was fast, slipping toward the front gates.

“Thomas,” Luca said into his phone. “Did Marcus make it to the warehouse?”

A static-filled voice replied. “Boss, they hit us on the highway. Two SUVs. They took Marcus and Vanessa back. We lost them.”

Luca cursed softly. “They’re coming for the key. Emily, we need to go to the bank right now, before they realize we have it.”

“I’m coming,” I said.

“No, I’m sending you and Ben to a safe house with Mrs. Gable—”

“Luca,” I interrupted, standing tall. “My father lived in fear for three years because of them. He died clutching that watch. I am not hiding.”

Luca looked at my set jaw, then at his son, who was holding tightly to my hand.

“Okay,” Luca nodded. “We go together.”

The night air was freezing as we slipped into the back of Luca’s armored SUV. The drive to the First National Bank took twenty agonizing minutes. Luca made a phone call to the bank manager, waking him up and demanding emergency access to the vault. In Chicago, nobody said no to Luca Caruso.

The bank was dark, the manager standing nervously at the glass doors in his pajamas. He led us down to the basement vault, leaving us alone in the sterile, fluorescent-lit room.

I found box 402. I slid my father’s tiny brass key into the left lock, and the manager’s master key into the right.

I pulled the long metal drawer out and set it on the viewing table.

Inside was a single manila envelope.

I opened it.

There was a thick stack of cash—at least fifty thousand dollars. But underneath the money was a handwritten letter on my father’s lined notepad paper, and a pristine, unpunched Greyhound bus ticket dated for tomorrow at midnight.

I unfolded the letter.

Emily, if you are reading this, the worst has happened, and Marco Caruso has returned.

I didn't change my story about the accident because they threatened me. I changed it because Marco Caruso found me the next day. He told me that if Vanessa went to prison, the rival families would see Luca as weak and start a war that would burn our neighborhood to the ground. Marco offered me a choice: take the blame as an unreliable witness, and he would fake his own death to lure the rival bosses out of the city.

I stopped reading, a massive reversal hitting me.

Marco wasn't the villain. He had faked his death to protect his brother's empire.

But the next line made the blood freeze in my veins.

But Marco didn't fake his death alone. Vanessa found out. She trapped him on the bridge. She didn't kill him—she took him hostage. This bus ticket is his escape route, if he ever breaks free. Emily, you must give this ticket to Luca.