THE MAID’S SECRET AND THE MAFIA’S BRIDE

The gold locket felt heavy and vile in my palm. Paula hadn't acted out of mercy. She had monetized my tragedy. She had kept Clara alive in agony just to harvest my child, sold her to an orphanage, and then extorted our parents to fund her luxurious lifestyle.

And my parents had paid the blackmail just to ensure I never found out I had a daughter of my own blood.

I looked at my sister, sobbing on the velvet sofa. I looked at my mother, whose face was a mask of cold arrogance, and my father, who wouldn't meet my eyes. They weren't family. They were parasites feeding on the corpse of my happiness.

I turned around and knelt in front of Renee. I smoothed her dark hair, forcing a gentle smile onto my face despite the inferno raging in my chest.

"Put your coat on, princess," I said softly. "We're leaving."

"Are we taking my presents?" she asked innocently, pointing to a small pile of wrapped boxes I had bought her.

"No," I said, standing up and taking her small hand. "We don't need anything from this house ever again."

"Michael, be reasonable," my father pleaded, stepping into the hallway as I carried Renee toward the front door. "If you walk out that door, you shatter this family. Think of the business. Think of the optics."

I stopped with my hand on the brass doorknob. I didn't turn around to look at him.

"The business belongs to me now, Antonio," I said, using his first name to sever the final tie of respect. "And as of tomorrow morning, your bank accounts will be frozen. Paula’s trust fund will be liquidated. You are entirely cut off from the DeLuca empire. If any of you try to contact me, or if you ever come within a hundred miles of my daughter, I won't send lawyers. I’ll send my capos."

I slammed the heavy door behind us, cutting off my mother's scream.

The Chicago night was freezing. I buckled Renee securely into the back of my armored SUV, wrapped her in a thick wool blanket, and climbed into the driver's seat.

My phone buzzed as I pulled out of the massive iron gates of my parents' estate. It was Dante, my most trusted Underboss.

"Boss," Dante's rough voice came through the speakers. "I got the background check you requested on the lawyer from Sterling & Vance. The one who sent the courier package today."

"What did you find?" I asked, speeding down the icy highway toward my safehouse in the city.

"The lawyer didn't send the package, Michael," Dante said. "The lawyer died of a massive heart attack three days ago. The package was triggered by an automatic dead-man's switch. It was scheduled to be delivered to you only if he was killed."

I gripped the steering wheel so hard the leather creaked. "You think he was murdered?"

"I know he was," Dante replied grimly. "I just left the coroner's office. The tox screen showed traces of digitalis. It’s a heart medication, completely untraceable if you don't know what to look for. Someone silenced the lawyer before he could tell you the truth about the adoption."

A memory flashed in my mind. My father’s daily pill organizer sitting on the kitchen counter. He had been taking digitalis for a heart murmur for five years.

"Dante," I said, my voice cold. "I need the name of the private clinic Paula used to hide Clara six years ago. I want the doctor who delivered Renee found and brought to the warehouse by midnight."

"Already on it, boss."

I drove to my penthouse in the city center. It was a fortress. I put Renee to bed, sitting beside her until she fell asleep, her small fingers curled around a stuffed bear. I looked at her peaceful face, vowing that the people who caused her pain would pay in blood.

At midnight, I walked into the dimly lit basement of my industrial warehouse. Dante was standing next to a metal chair. Tied to the chair was a terrified, balding man in his sixties—Dr. Elias Vance.

I threw Clara’s charred silver ring onto the concrete floor at his feet.

"You delivered my daughter," I said, stepping into the light. "And you watched my fiancée die in your illegal clinic. I want the truth, Elias. Before I lose my temper."

The doctor trembled violently. "I tried to save her! I swear to God, Mr. DeLuca! The burns were severe, but she was stabilizing! She gave birth to a healthy baby girl. I was going to discharge her."

"Then how did she die two days later?" I demanded, grabbing him by the collar.

A massive reversal hit me as the doctor sobbed his confession.

"She didn't die from the burns!" the doctor cried. "She was poisoned! Someone slipped into the clinic at night and injected digitalis into her IV line! I covered it up because they threatened to kill my family!"

The same poison that killed the lawyer. The poison my father took.

"My father ordered you to cover it up?" I snarled.

"No!" the doctor gasped, shaking his head frantically. "It wasn't a man! It was a woman! A woman who looked just like you!"

I froze. Paula. Paula hadn't just extorted my parents. She had personally murdered Clara in her hospital bed to ensure there was a baby to sell and a secret to monetize.

"I kept proof!" the doctor desperately pleaded, nodding toward his leather briefcase on the table. "I kept a ledger of all the payments! Please, just look!"

Dante opened the briefcase and pulled out a worn, black ledger. He flipped through the pages and handed it to me.

I looked at the meticulous handwriting. There were regular payments from Paula's bank account. But the last entry, dated just yesterday, made my heart stop.

It was a payment for one hundred thousand dollars, wired to a known cartel hitman. The target listed wasn't the lawyer.

The target listed was me. And the hit was scheduled for my armored SUV.

I slowly raised my head and looked at Dante.

"Dante," I whispered, panic clawing at my throat. "Where did you park the SUV?"