THE MAFIA BOSS'S TIE AND THE SECRETS IN THE SHOEBOX

The heavy oak doors of the library slammed shut. The metallic click of the lock echoed in the massive, silent room. I grabbed Lily, holding her so tightly she squirmed in my arms.

"Mommy, you're squeezing me," she complained softly.

"I'm sorry, baby," I whispered, kissing the top of her head. "We just have to stay in here for a little while. It's a game, okay? A hiding game."

Lily loved hiding games. She immediately crawled under Dante's massive mahogany desk, dragging her shoebox of drawings with her.

I paced the floor, my mind racing. Jorge was murdered. The kind, gentle man who used to carry Lily on his shoulders through Central Park had been crushed to death because he saw something at the docks. And Dante's mother—the woman whose funeral had shut down Fifth Avenue—was alive, working with the man who had just kidnapped Dante's teenage sister.

My phone buzzed in my apron pocket. I jumped, my heart hammering against my ribs.

It was an unknown number.

I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the screen. Slowly, I swiped to answer.

"Hello?" I whispered.

"Elena Castellanos." The voice was smooth, cultured, and terrifyingly calm. It belonged to an older woman. "I understand your daughter has been showing Dante her little art projects."

My breath hitched. "Sofia Moretti."

"I see the little artist got my likeness right," Sofia chuckled softly. "Listen to me very carefully, Elena. Dante thinks he is hunting Victor. He thinks Victor is a rogue element who took Mia hostage."

"He breached the gate," I countered, my voice shaking.

"Yes, he did. Because I told him to," Sofia said. "Dante is emotional. He thinks with his gun, not his head. He believes I am betraying the family. The truth, Elena, is that I am trying to save it."

"By killing my husband?" I cried, tears spilling hot down my cheeks. "Jorge never hurt anyone!"

The line went silent for a moment. "Your husband was a casualty of a war he didn't understand. But his death doesn't have to be meaningless. Check the bottom right drawer of Dante's desk. There is a false bottom."

"I'm not doing anything for you," I spat.

"If you want to know who really gave the order to drop that container on Jorge, you will open the drawer," Sofia said coldly. "Dante doesn't know everything, Elena. Don't trust the suit."

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone. I looked at the desk where Lily was currently drawing a picture of a purple cat.

Don't trust the suit.

My hands trembled as I walked over to the desk. "Lily, baby, can you move for just a second?"

She slid out, clutching a purple crayon. I pulled the bottom right drawer open. It was filled with standard office supplies—expensive pens, embossed stationary, a few leather-bound notebooks. I pressed my hand against the wooden bottom.

It gave slightly.

I slid a letter opener into the crack and pried the thin sheet of cedar upward.

Beneath it lay a small, velvet jewelry box. And next to it, a stack of cargo manifests from the Brooklyn Navy Yard.

I opened the velvet box. Inside rested a heavy, antique silver locket. It was tarnished, but the engraving on the front was clear: a rose intertwined with a dagger. The Moretti family crest.

I opened the locket.

Inside was a photograph of Dante, much younger, smiling beside a beautiful woman with dark hair.

But it wasn't the woman that made my stomach drop.

It was what she was wearing around her neck.

A silver locket. The exact same locket. But in the photograph, the locket was open, and the picture inside wasn't of Dante.

It was a picture of my husband, Jorge.

"Mommy?" Lily asked, tugging on my apron. "Why is Daddy in that lady's necklace?"

I stared at the photograph, the world tilting violently on its axis. Dante had a picture of a woman who was carrying a picture of my husband.

Before I could even process the impossible connection, the library door handle rattled violently.

"Elena! Open the door!" Dante's voice roared from the hallway.

I slammed the false bottom down, shoved the locket into my pocket, and ran to unlock the door.

Dante burst in, his suit jacket gone, his white shirt stained with blood. He looked like a demon dragged straight from hell.

"Did you get her?" I gasped. "Did you get Mia?"

"Victor's SUV was a decoy," Dante snarled, pacing the room like a caged tiger. "He rigged the steering wheel and bailed out before it hit the barricades. Mia wasn't in the car. They took her through the underground service tunnels."

He stopped, his dark eyes locking onto me. "But they made a mistake. Victor dropped his phone."

Dante held up a crushed, but functioning smartphone.

"The last message he sent was to my mother," Dante said, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "And the message said, 'We have the girl. Moving to the Falcone warehouse.'"

I grabbed Lily, my hand sweating against the cold silver locket in my pocket. "Mr. Moretti... who is the woman with the dark hair?"

Dante froze. He looked at me, confusion flashing across his blood-stained face. "What woman?"