THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE ORDERED ME TO GET RID OF HIS OLD DOG—THEN THE DOG LED US TO THE GARAGE AND UNCOVERED HER SICK SECRET

The cold, damp air of the basement suddenly felt suffocating.

The Rossi enforcer stood at the top of the concrete stairs, the barrel of his shotgun leveled steadily at Luca’s chest.

He had the high ground. We were completely trapped in the small, windowless concrete room.

“Step away from the woman, Moretti,” the enforcer commanded, his voice echoing off the brick walls. “Make this easy, and I’ll make it quick.”

Luca didn’t step away.

Instead, he moved his massive frame completely in front of Elena, shielding her fragile body with his own.

“How did you know we were here?” Luca demanded, his voice dangerously calm, buying precious seconds as his dark eyes scanned the room for a weapon.

His own gun was lying on the concrete floor, five feet away. Too far to reach before the enforcer pulled the trigger.

The Rossi enforcer laughed. It was a harsh, scraping sound.

“Vanessa Bellini made a phone call before the feds took her phone away,” the man sneered. “She told our boss where you were going. Said if we took you out tonight, the Bellini syndicate would owe us the South Side docks.”

I stood frozen near the bottom of the stairs, pressed against the cold brick wall in the shadows.

The enforcer hadn’t noticed me yet. His focus was entirely on the mafia boss and the woman he was protecting.

My mind raced.

I was Emma Sullivan. A housekeeper. A girl who clipped coupons and worried about electricity bills.

But twenty-eight years ago, I was born Emma Rossi.

Blood doesn’t make you a monster, but it does make you brave.

I looked at Luca. He was preparing to lunge. He was going to sacrifice his own life to give Elena a chance to run.

I couldn’t let that happen.

“Hey!” I shouted, stepping out from the shadows into the dim light of the swinging bulb.

The enforcer flinched, swinging the barrel of the shotgun toward me.

“Who the hell are you?” he barked. “The maid?”

“My name is Emma,” I said, keeping my voice loud and unwavering as I stared directly into the barrel of the gun. “And if you pull that trigger, your boss is going to skin you alive.”

The man frowned, his finger hesitating on the trigger guard.

“What are you talking about, sweetheart?”

“Look at my face,” I commanded.

I didn’t blink. I stood tall, letting the harsh overhead light illuminate my features. The dark hair. The sharp jawline. The distinctive, deep-set brown eyes.

The enforcer squinted down the stairs.

I saw the exact moment the recognition hit him.

His eyes widened in shock. The barrel of the shotgun dipped a fraction of an inch.

“You look just like…” he muttered, his mind struggling to connect the impossibility standing in front of him.

“Vincent Rossi,” I finished for him. “I am Vincent Rossi’s daughter. The missing heir to the syndicate.”

The enforcer froze.

In the mafia world, bloodlines were sacred. Killing a rival boss earned you a promotion. Killing the lost niece of your own syndicate boss earned you a slow, agonizing death in a warehouse.

“You’re lying,” the man stammered, though his weapon was no longer pointed at my chest. “Vincent’s kid died twenty-eight years ago.”

“I didn’t die. My mother hid me,” I said coldly, stepping slowly toward the bottom of the stairs. “Call your boss. Right now. Tell him you found Vincent’s daughter. But if you shoot anyone in this room, you are dead before sunrise.”

The enforcer hesitated. His loyalty to the hit was battling his terror of the cartel’s wrath.

He reached into his leather jacket with his left hand, keeping the shotgun leveled with his right, fumbling for his cell phone.

It was a distraction.

And a distraction was all Luca Moretti needed.

In a blur of motion, Luca kicked his dropped handgun across the concrete floor.

It slid perfectly to my feet.

I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate.

I dropped to my knees, grabbed the heavy black pistol, and aimed it up the stairs.

The enforcer saw the movement and swung the shotgun back toward me, panic flashing in his eyes.

I pulled the trigger.

BANG.

The gunshot deafened the small basement.

I didn’t aim for his chest. I aimed for his shoulder.

The bullet struck the enforcer’s right collarbone, spinning him backward. He screamed in agony, dropping the shotgun as he tumbled backward out of the doorway and onto the warehouse floor above.

I lowered the shaking gun, my ears ringing violently from the blast.

Luca was beside me in an instant.

He didn’t take the gun from my hands. He placed his hands over mine, gently lowering the weapon until it was pointed safely at the floor.

“You did it, Emma,” Luca breathed, his eyes filled with profound awe. “You saved us.”

I looked at my trembling hands. I had just shot a man.

Elena rushed over, wrapping her thin, bruised arms tightly around my neck.

“Thank you,” she sobbed into my shoulder. “Thank you for saving my husband.”

I hugged her back, tears spilling over my cheeks.

Suddenly, the sound of screeching tires and heavy combat boots echoed from the warehouse floor above.

“Boss! Boss, where are you?”

It was Daniel’s voice. Luca’s tactical team had arrived.

“Basement!” Luca shouted back.

A dozen heavily armed Moretti guards swarmed the top of the stairs, securing the wounded Rossi enforcer and flooding the basement with tactical lights.

Daniel rushed down the stairs, his face pale with relief when he saw Luca standing unharmed.

“We got him, sir,” Daniel reported. “The perimeter is secure. Medical transport is waiting outside for Elena.”

Luca nodded, wrapping his suit jacket around his wife’s shivering shoulders.

He looked at me.

“Are you okay to walk?” Luca asked gently.

I nodded, wiping my face. “I’m okay.”

We walked up the concrete stairs and out of the decaying textile mill.

The night air had never felt so clean.

Elena was immediately swarmed by paramedics, who gently guided her into the back of a waiting ambulance to treat her injuries and malnutrition. Luca rode in the back with her, holding her hand tightly, refusing to let her out of his sight.

I rode back to the mansion in the lead SUV with Daniel.

The drive was quiet. The war was over. The Bellini syndicate was destroyed, the Rossi hitmen were neutralized, and Elena was finally coming home.

When we pulled through the massive iron gates of the Moretti estate, the sun was just beginning to rise over the Chicago skyline, painting the clouds in brilliant shades of gold and pink.

I walked into the grand foyer.

The house was quiet, peaceful.

My mother, Mary, was sitting on the sofa in the main living room, sipping a cup of tea. When she saw me walk in, covered in basement dirt and gunpowder, she stood up as fast as her arthritis would allow and pulled me into a crushing hug.

“I heard the radio chatter from Daniel’s men,” my mother wept into my hair. “I was so terrified, Emma.”

“I’m safe, Mom,” I promised, holding her tightly. “We’re all safe.”

Just then, the heavy oak doors of the study opened.

Little Leo walked out, rubbing his sleepy eyes. He was wearing an oversized t-shirt one of the maids had found for him.

Walking right beside him, pressing his gray muzzle against the boy’s leg, was Bruno.

Leo looked up at me.

“Did you find my mommy?” Leo asked, his small voice trembling with fragile hope.

I knelt down on the marble floor, opening my arms.

“We found her, sweetheart,” I smiled, tears blurring my vision. “She’s coming home right now.”

Leo let out a joyful, broken cry and ran into my arms, hugging me around the neck. Bruno let out a happy bark, his tail thumping loudly against the marble floor.

Two hours later, the front doors of the mansion opened again.

Luca walked in, supporting Elena’s fragile frame. She had been cleaned up at the hospital, her cuts bandaged, wearing comfortable clothes.

When Elena saw Leo standing in the foyer, she fell to her knees.

“Leo!” she sobbed, holding her arms out.

“Mommy!”

Leo sprinted across the marble floor, throwing himself into his mother’s arms. They collapsed together on the floor, weeping, holding each other as if they would never let go.

Luca stood above them, his dark eyes shining with tears, looking at the family he thought he had lost forever.

He looked across the room at me.

He walked over, standing in front of me and my mother.

“I don’t know how to repay you, Emma,” Luca said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “You risked your life for a family that wasn’t even yours.”

I smiled gently.

“I just did what was right, Luca.”

He shook his head.

“You are a Sullivan,” Luca declared, his voice ringing with absolute authority in the quiet foyer. “But from this day forward, you are under the protection of the Moretti family. Whatever you need, whenever you need it, it is yours. You will never clean another house, and you will never worry about money again.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy set of keys.

He placed them in my hand.

“There is a penthouse apartment downtown,” Luca said. “It’s fully furnished, paid for in perpetuity. It belongs to you and your mother now. Your brother’s college tuition has already been covered in full by my personal trust.”

I stared at the keys in my hand, completely overwhelmed.