THE MAID, THE MAFIA BOSS, AND THE SISTER'S SECRET

“Hold on!” Luca shouted, spinning the steering wheel so violently the heavy armored SUV fishtailed on the wet pavement.

The tires screamed against the asphalt as we tore down the winding mountain road, leaving the Moretti estate far behind. The rain was coming down in sheets, blurring the windshield, but Luca drove with the reckless precision of a man who had nothing left to lose.

In the passenger seat, I gripped the dashboard, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

They’re going to burn the house down.

“Ruth,” I said, twisting around to look at the elderly woman in the backseat. “Is the foster home empty? Are there children there?”

Ruth shook her head, tears streaming down her deeply lined face. “No, no. I closed the home five years ago when my arthritis got too bad. It’s been sitting empty on the edge of the city. I was preparing to sell it next month.”

“That’s why Sarah hid it there,” Luca realized, his eyes locked on the dark road ahead. “She knew it was abandoned. She knew no one would get hurt if the Bellinis came looking.”

“But Sarah isn't there,” I said, panic rising in my throat. “Marco said they have Sarah at the Bellini compound. Why would Marco send hitmen to burn an empty house?”

Luca’s grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles turned stark white.

“Because Marco doesn't want to find the ledger, Claire. He wants to destroy it. If the ledger burns, the proof of his embezzlement burns with it. He can blame my father forever, take the Moretti throne, and Vanessa’s family keeps the stolen money.”

My breath hitched.

“How far is the house?” Luca demanded, glancing at Ruth in the rearview mirror.

“Twenty minutes in this weather,” Ruth cried softly.

“We have ten,” Luca replied, flooring the accelerator. The SUV surged forward, the speedometer needle burying itself past ninety.

I stared out the window into the black, rain-soaked night. My mind was racing, trying to process the sheer volume of trauma that had unraveled in the last hour. My mother was murdered. My sister was a captive. The man I had served as a maid for five years was now risking his life to save a family he didn't even know he had.

I reached into the pocket of my apron.

My fingers brushed against the gold pocket watch Ruth had given Luca. He had handed it to me when we were running through the tunnels.

I pulled it out and clicked it open.

The hands were still frozen at 11:15.

But as I held it under the dim glow of the dashboard lights, I noticed something I hadn't seen before. The back of the watch casing had a tiny, almost microscopic seam. It wasn't just a watch. It was a locket.

“Luca,” I whispered.

I dug my thumbnail into the seam and pried hard. With a soft click, the back of the gold watch popped open.

Inside was a tiny, folded piece of paper.

“What is it?” Luca asked, glancing over quickly.

My hands shook as I unfolded the fragile paper. It was a handwritten note, the ink slightly smudged from age. I recognized the handwriting instantly. It was the same elegant cursive from my mother’s old recipe books.

My dearest Marco, I read aloud, my voice trembling.

Luca slammed the brakes so hard we jerked forward in our seatbelts, the SUV skidding slightly before he regained control and kept driving.

“Read that again,” Luca commanded, his voice deadly low.

“My dearest Marco,” I repeated, swallowing hard. “I know you think you’ve won. You think stealing your brother’s empire and forcing me to run will bury the truth. But I have ensured the ledger will never be found by you. I gave the key to the only person your brother truly trusted. If anything happens to me, look in the pockets of the heavy wool coat. You will never take my daughters.”

The car was dead silent, save for the roar of the engine and the beating of the rain.

The note wasn't addressed to Luca’s father.

It was addressed to Marco.

“My mother knew Marco was the traitor,” I breathed, the horrific realization washing over me. “She wasn't running from the Bellinis. She was running from Marco. And she wrote this note to taunt him. To let him know he failed.”

“And she hid the note inside my father’s watch,” Luca murmured, his eyes blazing with a dangerous fury. “She knew my father would never open the back casing. She hid the truth right next to his heart, knowing Marco would never be able to reach it.”

“Look in the pockets of the heavy wool coat,” Ruth whispered from the backseat.

I turned around. “Ruth, what coat?”

Ruth’s eyes widened in sudden, absolute terror. “Oh, dear God.”

“What is it?” Luca demanded.

“The winter Sarah ran away,” Ruth stammered, her hands flying to her mouth. “It was freezing. She didn't take any of her clothes. But right before she disappeared into the night, she begged me for one thing. She asked to take the heavy navy-blue wool coat that her mother had left behind when she died.”

My heart plummeted into my stomach.

The ledger wasn't hidden under the floorboards of the foster home. It wasn't hidden in a wall.

It was sewn into the lining of the coat.

“Where is the coat now, Ruth?” Luca asked, his voice tight with desperation.

Ruth looked at us, tears spilling over her wrinkled cheeks.

“Sarah was wearing it,” Ruth sobbed. “When she met me three months ago to give me the phone... she was wearing it. She told me she was going to wear it into the Bellini compound so they wouldn't know she was smuggling the evidence right through their front doors.”

The air in the SUV was sucked away.

Marco didn't send hitmen to the foster home to burn the ledger.

Marco sent hitmen to the foster home because he thought Sarah was hiding there.

“Luca,” I choked out, pure terror gripping my throat. “If Sarah has the coat… and Sarah is at the Bellini compound…”

“They aren't burning the foster home,” Luca realized, his face turning pale in the dashboard light.

He slammed his foot on the brake, bringing the massive SUV to a screeching halt in the middle of the empty highway. He threw the car in reverse, tires spinning wildly as he executed a violent J-turn, pointing us back toward the city.

“Where are we going?!” I screamed over the roar of the engine.