A DEBT HE DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT

The wine bottle slipped from my hand.

I caught it by the neck just before it hit the crystal glass, wine sloshing wildly over the rim onto the white tablecloth.

"My apologies, sir," I gasped, stepping back instantly, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

Marco Vane didn't look at the spilled wine. He leaned forward, resting his scarred chin on his clasped hands.

"He must be six by now," Marco whispered, loud enough only for me to hear. "Does he have my eyes?"

I couldn't breathe. The room was spinning.

Marco Vane was Leo's father.

My sister had never told me who the father was. She had shown up at my apartment pregnant, terrified, and already spiraling into the addiction that would eventually kill her. She had explicitly made me promise never to look for the man.

“If he finds us, Emma, he’ll kill me and take the baby. Promise me.”

I stared in horror at the monster sitting at the table.

"Emma."

Luca’s voice sliced through the heavy air, sharp and commanding from the other end of the long table.

I snapped my head toward him.

"Clean the spill and fetch the next course," Luca ordered. His expression was completely blank, giving away nothing, but his eyes told me to move. Now.

"Yes, Mr. Moretti."

I threw a napkin over the red stain and practically ran to the kitchen.

I pushed through the swinging doors and leaned against the cold stainless-steel counter, gasping for air.

Leo was Marco's son. Vanessa’s half-brother.

This wasn’t just blackmail. If Marco knew Leo was here, he wouldn't just take Vanessa's money. He would take the boy.

Chef Louis handed me a silver tray of appetizers. "Table three, Emma. Go."

I had to go back out there.

For the next hour, it was psychological torture. Every time I circled the room to clear plates or refill glasses, Marco’s eyes followed me. He was playing with a heavy silver lighter, flipping the lid open and shut. Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

Vanessa looked like she was going to throw up. She barely touched her food, drinking three glasses of champagne in rapid succession.

At 9:00 PM, Luca stood up.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Luca said, his voice carrying easily over the chatter. "If you’ll excuse me, I need a private moment with my future father-in-law to discuss a... wedding gift. Please, enjoy the dessert."

The guests applauded politely, completely oblivious to the tension.

Luca nodded toward the hall. Marco smiled, stood up, and followed him out.

I was clearing the salad plates when Vanessa suddenly grabbed my wrist as I reached past her. Her grip was painfully tight.

"You didn't tell him," she hissed under her breath.

"Tell who?" I whispered.

"Don't play dumb. Marco. He’s the one who got your sister hooked on the pills. He used her to run his product, then discarded her when she got pregnant." Vanessa's eyes were wild. "He wants the boy, Emma. If he takes the boy, he has a permanent blood tie to the Moretti family. He can extort Luca forever."

"I won't let him near Leo," I said, yanking my wrist free.

Vanessa sneered. "You think you can stop him? I paid him the two hundred thousand an hour ago. He told me he isn't leaving Chicago without his son. He saw the way you reacted. He knows the kid is here."

She stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over her chair, and marched out of the dining room.

I abandoned my tray on a side table and ran.

I didn't care about my job anymore. I had to get to the basement garage. I had to get Leo out of this house before Marco found him.

I sprinted down the back hallway toward the staff staircase.

As I reached the landing, I saw something draped over the banister.

A heavy, dark burgundy coat.

I recognized it instantly. It was the coat Marco Vane had worn when he arrived.

My blood ran cold.

Why was his coat on the staff staircase? The meeting with Luca was supposed to be in the east wing study.

I heard a heavy footstep on the stairs below me.

I froze.

"Looking for this?" a gravelly voice asked.

Marco stepped out from the shadows of the landing. In one hand, he held his silver lighter. In the other, he held the single brass key to Luca’s private garage.

The key I had locked Leo inside with.

"How did you get that?" I whispered, backing up against the wall.

Marco grinned, the jagged scar stretching grotesquely. "My daughter has sticky fingers. Vanessa grabbed it from your apron when you were serving the soup. She’s very motivated to get me out of her life."

He tossed the key in the air and caught it.