THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED HIS FIANCÉE FORCE ME TO APOLOGIZE TO TWENTY-EIGHT GUESTS—THEN SHE SAID, “SHE BROKE THE KITCHEN WINDOW,” BEFORE HE EVEN ASKED WHY THERE WAS BLOOD ON MY APRON.

The silence in Luca Moretti’s study was so complete I could hear the antique grandfather clock ticking in the corner.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t slam his fist against the mahogany desk.

Instead, the powerful man who controlled half of Chicago’s underworld simply went completely, terrifyingly still. His dark eyes locked onto mine, searching for any trace of a lie.

“My brother,” Luca repeated, his voice dropping to a dangerous, gravelly whisper. “The man my father paid a million dollars to banish from this state twelve years ago. That is who Vanessa ordered Robert to cook for tonight.”

“Yes, sir,” I whispered, gripping my bandaged forearm. The throbbing pain in my skin was nothing compared to the fear twisting in my stomach.

“Robert was absolutely certain?”

“He said he recognized his face from the funeral,” I replied, my voice shaking. “He said Vanessa was sneaking him in through the old delivery entrance. That’s why she cleared the kitchen staff.”

Luca turned away, running a hand through his dark hair. The engagement party was still raging downstairs. The faint sound of a string quartet drifted up through the floorboards, a sickening contrast to the betrayal unraveling in this room.

For twelve years, the Moretti family had treated the man who claimed to be Luca’s half-brother as a grifter. A shameful secret. And now, Luca’s future wife was secretly bringing him into the house.

“Why?” Luca murmured, almost to himself. “Vanessa has her own trust fund. She has my protection. Why would she risk everything to bring back an exiled bastard?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

Luca suddenly turned back to me. “Where are Robert’s things? His coat, his keys? If he was taken away in an ambulance, his personal belongings are still here.”

“In the staff locker room,” I said quickly. “Down the service hall.”

“Show me.”

I didn’t hesitate. I led Luca out the side door of his study, down a narrow, dimly lit corridor that the wealthy guests never saw. My heart hammered against my ribs with every step. If Vanessa caught us, my mother’s house would be foreclosed on by the end of the month.

We reached the small locker room. Robert’s locker was slightly ajar.

Inside hung his heavy gray wool coat.

Luca didn’t wait. He reached into the pockets, his large hands patting down the fabric. He pulled out a set of car keys, a half-empty pack of mints, and finally, a crumpled white envelope.

Luca opened the envelope.

He pulled out a single, glossy photograph.

I held my breath as Luca stared at the image. The blood drained entirely from his face. His jaw clenched so hard I thought his teeth might shatter.

“Mr. Moretti?” I whispered.

He slowly turned the photograph toward me.

It was a picture taken at a crowded downtown café. Sitting at a small table was Vanessa, wearing a designer trench coat and oversized sunglasses.

Sitting across from her was a ruggedly handsome man with dark hair and sharp features—features that looked hauntingly similar to Luca’s. The exiled brother.

But it wasn’t just a meeting.

In the photograph, Vanessa was sliding a thick manila folder across the table to him.

“She isn’t paying him to stay away,” Luca said, his voice laced with a cold, lethal realization. “She’s paying him to come back.”

I stared at the photo. “But why would she do that? She’s marrying you in three weeks.”

“Because,” Luca said, his eyes darkening with a fury that made me take a step back, “if my brother is legally recognized as a Moretti heir, he is entitled to half of my father’s empire. An empire Vanessa clearly wants a piece of.”

Before I could process the sheer scale of Vanessa’s deception, the heavy locker room door creaked open.

Daniel, Luca’s massive head of security, stepped inside. His face was grim.

In his hands, he held a blood-stained white chef’s jacket.

“Boss,” Daniel said, his voice tight. “I found Robert’s jacket stuffed in the dumpster out back. The ambulance didn't take him. There is no record of a 911 call from this address.”

My knees nearly gave out. “What? But he couldn’t breathe!”

Daniel reached into the pocket of the blood-stained jacket and pulled out a cheap, plastic burner phone.

“I found this inside it,” Daniel said.

As soon as the words left his mouth, the burner phone began to vibrate in his palm.

The screen lit up with an incoming text message.

Luca snatched the phone from Daniel’s hand and looked at the screen.

His eyes widened in absolute shock.