THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE TOLD ME TO REMOVE A CHIPPED PORCELAIN PLATE FROM HIS ENGAGEMENT TABLE—BUT WHEN LUCA MORETTI SAW IT IN MY HANDS, HE STOOD UP AND ASKED, “WHO TOOK MY MOTHER’S PLACE SETTING?”

Luca stared at the heavy iron key resting on the table. The air in the room grew completely still.

"The Russians," Luca repeated. His voice was devoid of all emotion. It was the voice of a man preparing for war.

"It's a lie!" Vanessa shrieked, backing away from the table. "She's a crazy old woman! She's making it up because she hates me!"

"Am I?" Teresa asked calmly. "Then let's go to the train station right now. Let's open locker 402."

Vanessa froze. The bluff had been called.

Luca picked up the key. He didn't yell. He didn't threaten. He just looked at Vanessa with dead eyes. "Where is my nephew?"

Vanessa’s lips trembled. "Luca, please. They were going to kill me. I owed them three million dollars. I didn't have a choice."

"Where. Is. He."

"He's at a safe house," she sobbed. "In the city. With a nanny."

Luca turned to me. "Emma. Call Marcus. Tell him to bring the car around. Tell him we're going to the train station."

Marcus was Luca’s head of security. A massive man who rarely spoke. I nodded and ran to the hallway phone. I dialed the security desk. "Marcus, Mr. Moretti needs the car. He's going to the train station."

"Understood," Marcus replied.

I returned to the dining room. Luca was forcing Vanessa into her coat. Teresa remained seated, her hands resting on her cane. "Be careful, Luca," Teresa warned. "A rat bites hardest when it's cornered."

We walked out to the grand driveway. The black SUV was waiting. Marcus stood by the open door.

But as we approached, I noticed something wrong. Marcus wasn't looking at Luca. He was looking at Vanessa. And he gave her a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.

My stomach dropped. I remembered something from earlier that week. I had been cleaning Marcus's office. I had found a heavy gold bracelet on his desk. A woman's bracelet. The exact same bracelet Vanessa was currently wearing on her left wrist.

"Mr. Moretti, wait!" I blurted out.

Luca stopped. "What is it, Emma?"

I looked at Marcus. The massive security guard’s hand drifted toward his jacket pocket.

"Don't get in the car," I whispered, my voice trembling. "Marcus isn't taking you to the train station. He's taking you to the Russians."

Marcus drew his weapon. But Luca was faster.

In a blur of motion, Luca pulled a sidearm from his own waistband. Two shots rang out in the quiet night. Marcus collapsed onto the driveway, gripping his leg.

Vanessa screamed and tried to run, but Luca grabbed her by the hair, throwing her against the side of the SUV.

"You turned my own men against me," Luca hissed in her ear.

I stood paralyzed on the driveway, the smell of gunpowder burning my nose.

Luca disarmed Marcus and kicked the gun away. He looked at me. "You just saved my life, Emma."