“She Can’t Even Read the Menu!”—Then the Waitress Answered in Fluent French and Silenced the Mafia Boss

“Did you really think I wouldn’t follow you, Alessandro?”

Camilla’s voice echoed through the empty concourse of Grand Central. Her red dress was soaked from the rain, but her eyes were wild with manic energy. She aimed the gold revolver straight at Alessandro’s chest.

“Get behind the pillar,” Alessandro whispered to Sophie, pushing her and Leo back into the shadows.

“Camilla,” Alessandro said loudly, stepping into the open with his hands raised. “Put the gun down. You’re making a scene.”

“Shut up!” Camilla screamed. “My father warned me about you. He said the Moretti family could never be trusted. You pretended to court me! You pretended you wanted to merge our families! And all along, you were looking for the diplomat’s brat!”

Sophie held Leo tightly against her chest, her heart hammering. Camilla had been playing a part at the restaurant, too. She wasn't just a spoiled socialite; she was an active player in her father’s syndicate.

“The Duboises mean nothing to me,” Alessandro lied smoothly, taking a slow step toward Camilla. “I was just tying up loose ends. The girl was going to flee. I was stopping her.”

“Liar!” Camilla snapped. She pointed the gun toward the pillar where Sophie was hiding. “Drag her out here! Let’s end the Dubois bloodline right now!”

“No,” Alessandro said. His voice dropped an octave, turning deadly.

Before Camilla could pull the trigger, the booming sound of a train horn blasted through the station. The floor vibrated violently as the midnight freight train rushed past the lower platforms.

In that split second of deafening noise, Alessandro moved.

He didn't draw a gun. He drew a heavy steel throwing knife from his sleeve and whipped it forward. It struck Camilla’s wrist.

She screamed, dropping the gold revolver.

“Move!” Alessandro roared.

Sophie scooped Leo into her arms and ran. Alessandro covered their retreat, firing two quick shots from a concealed pistol at Camilla’s bodyguards, forcing them behind a ticket kiosk.

They sprinted down a restricted maintenance tunnel, Alessandro swiping a keycard that locked the heavy steel gate behind them. They emerged into a private underground parking garage, where a sleek black SUV was waiting.

“Get in!” Alessandro ordered.

Sophie threw Leo into the backseat and climbed in beside him. Alessandro floored the gas, the SUV tearing out of the garage and speeding into the wet Manhattan streets.

Leo was crying softly into Sophie’s coat. She rocked him, murmuring soothing words in French.

“Are you hurt?” Alessandro asked, glancing at them in the rearview mirror.

“We’re fine,” Sophie breathed. “Where are you taking us?”

“To a safe house in Tribeca. My most loyal men guard it. The Russos don’t know it exists.”

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at a luxury penthouse overlooking the Hudson River. The doors locked with a heavy magnetic thud. Warm air hit Sophie’s freezing face. A quiet, older Italian woman immediately approached, wrapping a thick cashmere blanket around Leo and handing him a cup of warm milk.

“Thank you, Maria,” Alessandro said gently. He took off his wet trench coat. Underneath, his white shirt was stained with blood.

Sophie gasped. “You’re shot.”

“A graze,” Alessandro dismissed it, walking to a mahogany desk and pouring a glass of whiskey. “We don’t have time for bandages. Camilla knows I’ve betrayed them. By sunrise, her father will order my execution, and he will kill your father to ensure the ledger is never found.”

“Then we find the ledger tonight,” Sophie said firmly, stepping up to the desk. “Where did my father hide it?”

“That’s the problem,” Alessandro sighed. “He wouldn’t tell me. He said the location was encrypted. He said only you would know how to read the map.”

“He never gave me a map!” Sophie cried.

Alessandro frowned. “He said he gave it to the boy.”

Sophie turned slowly and looked at Leo, who was sitting on the rug, sipping his milk.

“Leo?” Sophie asked gently. “Did Papa give you a map before he left?”

Leo blinked his big brown eyes. He put his milk down and reached into his little canvas backpack. He pulled out a folded, crumpled piece of construction paper.

“Papa said I had to draw this every day so I wouldn’t forget,” Leo said proudly, unfolding it on the coffee table.

Sophie and Alessandro leaned in.

It was a child’s drawing of a large stone house with a massive clock tower. But drawn heavily in thick black crayon, cutting across the house, were strange, jagged lines that looked like a grid.

Sophie’s blood turned to ice.