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 silver tray rattled against my shaking hands.

My mother’s daycare.

I stared at the crumpled drawing, my mind spinning violently. Vanessa didn’t have children. She hated them. She had complained loudly to the wedding planner just yesterday that she absolutely refused to have a nursery built in the Chicago mansion.

So why was she carrying a drawing from a child calling her "Mommy"? And why was it stamped with the logo of the run-down community center where my mother spent sixty hours a week watching toddlers?

"What do you think you’re doing?"

The voice cracked like a whip across my shoulders.

I jumped, nearly dropping the tray. Vanessa was standing three feet away, her eyes narrowed into vicious slits. The laughter from the guests faded into background noise as she stepped closer, her red silk gown rustling ominously.

"I was... I was just collecting glasses, ma'am," I stammered, instinctively crumpling the drawing into a tight ball inside my palm, hiding it beneath the edge of the silver tray.

Vanessa’s gaze dropped to my bandaged arm, then to her open purse on the sofa.

Her face went completely pale.

"You filthy little thief," she hissed, grabbing my wrist so hard her manicured nails dug into my skin. "Did you touch my bag?"

"No!" I lied, my voice trembling. "I bumped the sofa, the clasp popped open. I didn't touch anything!"

Vanessa leaned in, her perfume sickeningly sweet. "If you breathe a word of anything you saw tonight, Sophie, I won't just fire you. I will make sure your mother spends her retirement in a homeless shelter. Do you understand me?"

"Is there a problem here?"

Luca’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.

He materialized behind Vanessa, his hands casually slipped into his trouser pockets, but his eyes were deadly cold.

Vanessa instantly let go of my wrist, pasting on a brilliant, entirely fake smile.

"No problem, darling," she cooed, smoothing down her dress. "Sophie was just leaving. She’s terribly clumsy tonight."

Luca looked at me. His eyes briefly dropped to my clenched fist, hiding the drawing.

"Go to my study, Sophie," Luca said quietly. "Wait for me there."

I didn't wait to be told twice. I practically ran out of the drawing room, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Ten minutes later, Luca walked into the study and locked the heavy oak doors behind him.

I immediately uncurled my fist, placing the crumpled child's drawing onto his pristine mahogany desk.

"This was in her purse," I breathed. "Mr. Moretti, look at the back."

Luca smoothed out the paper. He saw the crayon stick figures. Then he flipped it over and read the stamped address.

He looked up at me, his brow furrowing in deep confusion. "This is a daycare center on the South Side."

"It's where my mother works," I said, my voice cracking with panic. "Mr. Moretti, Vanessa doesn't have a child. Why would your brother give her this?"

Luca stared at the drawing, the gears in his brilliant, terrifying mind turning rapidly.

"Vanessa claims she can't have children," Luca said slowly. "She provided medical records to my lawyers before we signed the prenuptial agreement. It was the only reason I agreed to an heir-exclusion clause in the contract."

"An heir-exclusion clause?" I asked.

"If I die," Luca explained, his voice turning to ice, "my entire empire goes to my blood heir. If I have no children, the estate reverts to the board of directors. But if Vanessa produces a legal heir—even through adoption—she gets total control of my assets."

The horrifying truth suddenly clicked into place.

"She’s not adopting," I whispered, stepping back. "She’s buying one. She’s using your brother."

Luca’s eyes darkened with absolute fury. "My exiled brother has a son. A four-year-old boy. The old Don’s true grandson. Vanessa is paying my brother to hand over his child. She’s going to pass the boy off as a hidden Moretti heir, legally adopt him, and then..."

"Then she won't need you anymore," I finished, the blood draining from my face. "Once she has the boy, she has the empire."

Luca looked down at the drawing. "And my brother gets his million-dollar payday, plus the gold watch with all my father's secrets."

It was a perfect, monstrous plan.

Suddenly, my cell phone began to ring in my apron pocket.

I pulled it out. The caller ID said MOM.

I answered it immediately. "Mom? Are you okay?"

"Sophie!" my mother’s voice was frantic, hysterical. "Sophie, you have to help me! I'm at the daycare!"

"Mom, what's wrong? Why are you there so late?"

"I was doing inventory," she sobbed, the sound of breaking glass echoing through the phone. "Two men just broke in. They have guns, Sophie! They’re looking for little Leo! They said his mother sent them to pick him up!"

My stomach plummeted into an endless void.

Vanessa hadn't waited. The texts on the burner phone hadn't just been about the watch. She had sent her men to take the boy tonight.

"Mom, hide!" I screamed into the phone. "Lock yourself in the office! Do not let them see you!"

"They're kicking the door!" my mother cried. "Sophie, please—"

The line went dead.

I dropped the phone, a scream tearing from my throat.

Luca was already moving. He pulled a heavy, dark handgun from his shoulder holster and racked the slide with a terrifying, mechanical clack.

"Daniel!" Luca roared, throwing open the study doors. "Get the cars! We are going to the South Side!"