THE MAID, THE MAFIA BOSS, AND THE STOLEN HEIRLOOMS

I drove for an hour, taking every erratic turn and dark side street I knew until I was sure no headlights were following us.

Leo had stopped crying, his small chest rising and falling in an exhausted, rattling rhythm. The boy was sick. Marco hadn’t lied about his weak lungs.

I needed a place to hide. I couldn't go back to the estate, and I couldn't go to my own apartment. Vanessa would have men watching both.

I drove to June’s house.

I parked the battered truck two streets over and carried Leo through the damp backyards, keeping to the shadows. I knocked softly on June’s back door.

A moment later, the porch light flicked on, and June opened the door, wearing a thick flannel robe. She gasped when she saw me holding a child.

“Claire? Good heavens, who is that?”

“Let me in, June. Please,” I begged.

She pulled us inside, quickly locking the deadbolts. She led us to the small, warm kitchen. I set Leo down on a wooden chair. He looked around with wide, frightened eyes, clutching his teddy bear tight.

“Is he hungry?” June asked gently, already moving toward the refrigerator. Her motherly instincts overrode her shock.

“He’s Luca’s nephew,” I said quietly.

June dropped a carton of milk on the floor. It shattered, white liquid pooling on the linoleum. She didn’t look at the mess. She stared at the boy.

“Antonio’s son?” she whispered, her hands flying to her mouth. “But... he died.”

“He survived,” I explained, quickly summarizing everything Marco had told me. The staged crash, Vanessa’s betrayal, the hitmen in the alley. “Marco is probably dead, June. Vanessa is going to kill this little boy to secure her marriage tomorrow.”

June rushed forward, kneeling in the spilled milk to look at Leo’s face. “He has Isabella’s eyes,” she said, her voice breaking. She touched his pale cheek gently. “Oh, you poor sweet thing.”

“I have to get proof to Luca,” I said, pacing the small kitchen. “But if I just walk in and tell him, Vanessa will deny it. She’ll say I’m a disgruntled employee making up lies. I need hard evidence.”

June stood up, her expression hardening into fierce resolve. She walked to the hallway closet and pulled out a heavy metal lockbox. She set it on the kitchen table and unlocked it with a small key on her keyring.

“My Bill was the groundskeeper for the Salvatores for thirty years,” June said, opening the lid. “He saw everything. He knew where the bodies were buried, literally and figuratively. Before he died, he gave me something. Told me to hold onto it in case the family ever turned on us.”

She reached into the box and pulled out a heavy, solid gold pocket watch.

I recognized it immediately. It was Antonio’s. Luca’s dead brother.

“Bill found this in the garden the night Antonio died,” June said softly. “He was supposed to be in the car when it crashed. But Bill saw Vanessa talking to Antonio’s driver an hour before they left the house. He saw Vanessa hand the driver an envelope of cash.”

I stared at the gold watch. “Vanessa paid the driver to crash the car?”

“Yes,” June said. “And this watch has an engraving inside. Antonio always kept a micro-SD card hidden behind the clock face. He used it to record his meetings. If Vanessa met with the driver, it might be on that card.”

My heart hammered against my ribs. “Do you know how to open it?”

June shook her head. “Bill tried, but it’s a master-crafted lock. Only Luca knows the combination.”

“Then I have to take it to him,” I said, grabbing the cold metal watch.

“Claire, you can’t go back there,” June pleaded. “If Vanessa’s men see you, they’ll kill you on sight.”

“The wedding is tomorrow at noon,” I said, looking at the clock on the wall. It was 3:00 AM. “The estate will be chaotic with vendors and caterers arriving at dawn. I can slip in with the catering crew.”

I looked at Leo, who was now drinking a glass of water June had poured for him. He looked so small, so innocent, caught in a web of violence he didn't understand.

“Keep him safe, June,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “Don’t open the door for anyone but me.”

“I won’t,” June promised, touching the sapphire ring on her finger. “We protect our own.”

I left the house and walked back to the hidden truck. I drove to the outskirts of the Salvatore estate just as the sun began to peek over the horizon, painting the sky in bruises of purple and gray.

Dozens of white delivery vans were already lined up at the service gates. I parked down the street, stole a white apron from the back of an unattended bakery truck, and slipped into the crowd of workers carrying trays of pastries.

I kept my head down, my heart pounding in my ears as the security guards checked IDs. I waited for my moment, slipping past the checkpoint when a guard was distracted by a dropped tray of croissants.

I was in.

I navigated the maze of hallways, heading straight for Luca’s private study in the west wing. The house was a frenzy of activity, florists shouting orders, maids polishing floors.

I reached the heavy oak door of the study. I turned the handle. It was unlocked.

I slipped inside, closing the door quietly behind me. The room was dark, smelling of rich leather and cigar smoke.