THE GREENHOUSE DOOR WAS UNLOCKED LONG BEFORE WE ARRIVED

The hospital hallway spun. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed, loud and oppressive like a swarm of hornets.

“That’s impossible,” I whispered, staring at the photograph in Luca’s hand. “He raised me. He has my mother’s eyes. We share the same last name.”

“Names can be bought, Emma,” Luca said gently, pocketing the photo. “History can be rewritten. In my world, it happens every day.”

“But the man at your house—”

“Is an actor,” Luca finished quietly. “A stand-in. Someone sent to deliver the key and push me to open the greenhouse tonight. To distract me while Vanessa’s men came here for your father.”

I backed away from him. “No. No, my dad had a stroke two months ago. If he was hiding some massive mafia secret, why wouldn't he tell me? Why let me work in your house?”

“Because he didn’t know you worked for me until tonight,” Luca said.

I froze.

It was true. My father thought I worked at a high-end hotel downtown. I lied to him to keep him from worrying. Working for a mob boss—even just dusting his chandeliers—wasn't exactly something you bragged about to a sick parent.

“Vanessa knew,” I realized, the horror washing over me like ice water. “Vanessa recommended me for the housekeeping job six months ago. She hired me.”

Luca’s expression hardened. “She placed you in my house. She kept you close as leverage. If your father ever regained his memory or tried to tell the truth about what happened to my mother, she could use you to keep him quiet.”

“What truth?” I cried, tears finally spilling over. “What is going on?”

Before Luca could answer, his phone rang. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and answered.

“Marco. What is it?”

Luca listened for a few seconds. The muscles in his neck pulled tight.

“Don’t let her leave. I’m on my way.” He hung up and looked at me. “Vanessa is packing a bag. She’s trying to leave the estate.”

“Let her,” I said bitterly.

“She’s not leaving alone,” Luca said, his voice dropping to a gravelly low. “She’s trying to take Leo.”

My breath hitched.

Leo. Luca’s six-year-old nephew. His parents had died in a car crash three years ago, leaving Luca as his sole guardian. Leo was a quiet, sweet boy who spent most of his time hiding in the library, drawing pictures. I often sat with him during my breaks, sneaking him extra cookies from the kitchen.

“Why would she take Leo?” I asked, panicking. “She hates him. She complains about him constantly.”

“Because Leo is the sole heir to the trust my mother left behind,” Luca said grimly. “And Vanessa needs him to access the accounts.”

We ran.

The drive back to the Gold Coast took less than fifteen minutes. Marco had parked his black SUV sideways across the estate’s massive iron gates, blocking the exit.

As we pulled up, I saw Vanessa standing on the front steps, flanked by two men in dark suits. She was wearing a heavy cashmere coat and clutching a leather duffel bag.

Next to her, looking terrified in his pajamas, was little Leo.

Vanessa had a tight grip on the boy’s wrist. Leo was crying silently, dragging his feet.

Luca threw his car into park before it even fully stopped. He was out of the driver’s seat in a flash, storming up the marble steps.

“Let him go,” Luca commanded, his voice echoing in the cold night air.

Vanessa’s men stepped forward, reaching for their jackets.

Luca didn’t even break stride. He drew a sleek, black handgun from his waistband and aimed it directly at the closest man’s chest.

“I said, let him go.”

Vanessa flinched, but she didn’t release Leo. “You wouldn’t shoot, Luca. Not with the boy right here.”

“I’m not aiming at the boy,” Luca said coldly. “Let. Him. Go.”

Leo saw me standing by the car. “Emma!” he sobbed, trying to pull away from Vanessa.

“Quiet, you little brat,” Vanessa hissed, yanking his arm hard.

That was enough for me. I didn’t care about the guns or the mafia. I ran up the steps, grabbed Vanessa’s wrist with both hands, and bit down on her forearm as hard as I could.

Vanessa shrieked, dropping the bag and releasing Leo.

I grabbed the boy, pulling him behind me and shielding him with my body.

“You crazy bitch!” Vanessa screamed, clutching her arm.

Luca lowered his gun, but his eyes never left Vanessa. “It’s over, Vanessa. I know about the transfer order. I know you tried to take Viktor tonight.”

Vanessa laughed. It was a harsh, desperate sound. “You don’t know anything, Luca. You think you’re so smart? You think your mother was a saint?”

She kicked the leather duffel bag on the ground. It tipped over, spilling stacks of bound hundred-dollar bills onto the marble. But mixed in with the money was something else.

A heavy, silver pocket watch.

Leo peeked out from behind my legs. “That’s the watch,” he whispered to me.

Luca looked at the boy. “What watch, Leo?”

Leo sniffled. “The one she made me dig up. From the greenhouse. She said if I didn’t crawl through the broken window and get it for her, she would send me away to an orphanage.”

Luca stared at Vanessa, absolute disgust written across his features. “You used a six-year-old child to rob my mother’s grave?”

“It wasn’t a grave!” Vanessa spat. “It was a vault. And your precious mother wasn’t protecting you. She was protecting him!”

Vanessa pointed a shaking finger at me.