THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE CALLED ME A MAID—UNTIL HER MOTHER UNVEILED HER DARKEST SECRET

The dining room fell deathly silent.

“That’s impossible,” I said, my heart jumping into my throat. “I gave you the other half of the rosary yesterday, Luca. You put it in your safe.”

Luca’s face was unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders was coiled like a spring. He strode past Marco, pulling his suit jacket on.

“Stay here, Emma.”

“Not a chance,” I said, following right on his heels.

We walked out the massive front doors and down the sweeping driveway toward the wrought-iron security gates. The crisp morning air bit at my cheeks.

Standing on the other side of the bars was a woman wrapped in a thick gray wool coat. Her hair was pulled back neatly, and her face was pale, worn down by grief and exhaustion.

But as we got closer, I stopped dead in my tracks.

It was Vanessa.

Not Victoria, the deranged twin who had perished in the rail yard shed. This woman had the exact same face, but her eyes were entirely different. They were warm, deeply sorrowful, and remarkably gentle.

“Who are you?” Luca demanded, his voice echoing in the quiet morning.

The woman looked at Luca, and tears immediately welled in her eyes. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a delicate silver chain. Dangling from it was the top half of the broken crucifix.

“My name is Vanessa Cole,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Thomas’s wife.”

My mind spun. “But… Margaret said you died in childbirth.”

Vanessa wiped a tear away. “I didn’t die. I fell into a coma after the boys were born. When I finally woke up three months later, my sister Victoria had convinced Thomas and my mother that I had passed away. She told them I bled out. And she told the hospital that I was Victoria, and that I had a psychiatric break.”

She gripped the iron bars. “Victoria had me committed to a private facility in upstate New York. She used Antonio’s money to keep me heavily sedated and locked away for six years.”

Luca stepped closer to the gate. “How did you get out?”

“The payments stopped,” Vanessa cried. “Victoria stopped paying the facility a month ago. They discharged me. It took me three weeks to hitchhike back to Chicago. I went to Thomas’s apartment, but his landlord told me he had taken the boys and run because Victoria was hunting them.”

I felt a massive weight lift off my chest.

She was alive. The boys’ real mother was alive.

Luca turned to Marco. “Open the gate.”

The heavy iron doors swung open. Vanessa stepped through, her legs shaking so badly I had to run forward and catch her arm to keep her from falling.

“Where are they?” she sobbed, clutching my arm. “Where are my babies? Where is Thomas?”

“They’re here,” I smiled, tears blurring my own vision. “They’re safe.”

We brought Vanessa into the house. As we walked into the grand foyer, Thomas was just coming down the stairs, holding a twin in each arm.

He stopped on the landing.

He stared at the woman in the gray coat. The color completely washed from his gaunt face.

“Nessa?” he choked out.

Vanessa broke free from my grip and ran to the bottom of the stairs, falling to her knees. “Tommy. Oh my god, Tommy.”

Thomas set the boys down and practically fell down the remaining stairs, collapsing into his wife’s arms. They held each other, weeping openly, a desperate, healing embrace that erased six years of stolen time.

Leo and Lucas stood on the stairs, staring with wide, curious eyes.

“Daddy?” Lucas asked. “Who is that?”

Thomas pulled back, his face soaked with tears, and turned to his sons. He reached a shaking hand out to them.

“Boys,” Thomas whispered. “Come say hello to your mother.”

The twins hesitated for a moment, then slowly walked down the stairs. Vanessa reached out, pulling both of them into her chest, burying her face in their dark hair.

Margaret, who had heard the commotion, walked into the foyer. When she saw her daughter—her real daughter—alive and holding her children, the elderly woman sank into a chair, crying prayers of gratitude into her hands.

I stood back, watching the beautiful, chaotic reunion, feeling a profound sense of peace.

They were together. The nightmare was over.

I felt a warm hand on my lower back. Luca stepped up beside me, watching the family cry and laugh.

“Well,” Luca murmured softly. “It seems Thomas doesn’t need a proxy adoption after all.”

I looked up at him. The commanding mafia boss looked lighter, somehow. The guilt of his brother’s legacy had finally been laid to rest.

“I guess you don’t need a wife anymore, Mr. Moretti,” I said softly, looking down at my hands.

Luca was quiet for a long moment. Then, he reached into his pocket.

He didn’t pull out the velvet box with the massive diamond.

Instead, he pulled out a simple, elegant gold band.

“The adoption was the excuse, Emma,” he said quietly, his dark eyes meeting mine. “But it was never the reason.”

I looked at him in surprise.

“I don’t want a maid,” Luca said, his voice raw and honest. “And I don’t want a business partner. I want the woman who stood up to me in front of thirty people to protect an old woman washing dishes. I want the woman who ran into a burning building for a child that wasn’t hers.”

He took my left hand.

“Go to the courthouse with me, Emma. No diamonds. No grand announcements. Just us.”

I looked at the simple gold ring. Then I looked at the man offering it. He was complex, dangerous, and fiercely loyal. And in that moment, I knew I loved him.

“Yes,” I whispered.

Luca smiled, sliding the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly.

Across the room, Thomas stood up, his arm wrapped tightly around his wife, his sons clinging to his legs. He looked at me and Luca, and gave a slow, deep nod of respect.

The lies were burned away. The secrets were buried.