THE GREENHOUSE DOOR WAS UNLOCKED LONG BEFORE WE ARRIVED

Within an hour, Luca had transformed the library into a war room.

Marco stood by the grand windows, barking orders into his cell phone, mobilizing Luca’s network on the East Coast.

I sat on the leather sofa, holding my father’s trembling hand.

“A family named Sterling in Boston,” Luca said, pacing in front of the fireplace. He looked at Marco. “Find every adoption record, every hospital transfer, every birth certificate matching that name from twenty-seven years ago. Bribe whoever you have to. I want a name by midnight.”

“Yes, boss,” Marco said, stepping out into the hall.

My father stared blankly at the fireplace. “Twenty-seven years. She’s been out there for twenty-seven years, Emma. Raised by strangers.”

“We’ll find her, Dad,” I promised, though my own heart was racing. A twin sister. A stranger with my face.

By 2:00 AM, the library was thick with the smell of stale coffee.

Marco walked back in, holding a single manila folder. He didn’t look triumphant. He looked deeply concerned.

He handed the folder to Luca.

Luca opened it, his eyes scanning the documents. He stopped. His jaw clenched so tight a muscle jumped in his cheek.

“What is it?” I asked, standing up.

Luca slowly closed the folder. “We found her, Emma. Her name is Chloe Sterling. She grew up in South Boston.”

“Is she okay? Where is she?” my father asked, trying to stand.

“She’s alive,” Luca said carefully. “But she’s not in Boston anymore.”

He looked at me, a dark shadow crossing his face.

“She’s in Chicago. She moved here three months ago.”

“That’s wonderful!” I said, stepping toward him. “We can go see her tomorrow. We can—”

“Emma, stop,” Luca interrupted gently, grabbing my shoulders. “You don’t understand. She didn’t just move to Chicago. She was brought here. By the Moretti syndicate’s biggest rival.”

My stomach dropped. “What?”

“The Falcone family,” Luca explained, his voice grim. “Dominic Falcone has been trying to take over my territory for years. Three months ago, he suddenly acquired a new fixer. A woman known for being utterly ruthless, brilliant, and untouchable. A ghost who handles all his illegal negotiations.”

Luca opened the folder and pulled out a surveillance photograph. He handed it to me.

I looked down, and the breath left my lungs.

It was like looking into a dark, twisted mirror. The woman in the photo had my eyes, my hair, my bone structure. But her expression was cold, hard, and entirely devoid of the warmth I saw in my own reflection. She was wearing a sharp, tailored black suit, standing next to Dominic Falcone in an underground parking garage.

“Chloe Sterling,” Luca said quietly. “Dominic Falcone’s right hand.”

“Why would she work for a mob boss?” my father whispered, staring at the photo in horror.

“Because Vanessa’s father didn’t just sell her to a random family,” Luca realized, the pieces clicking into place. “He sold her to a family loyal to the Falcones. They bred her to be a weapon against us. And now Dominic has brought her to Chicago for a reason.”

Before anyone could speak, the heavy oak doors of the library swung open.

One of Luca’s perimeter guards stood there, looking terrified.

“Mr. Moretti,” the guard stammered. “There’s… there’s a woman at the front gate.”

Luca stepped forward. “Who is it?”

The guard swallowed hard.