THE MAN IN THE GIFT ROOM

I backed away from the door until my spine hit the edge of the mahogany desk.

The brass doorknob rattled harder.

“Hannah,” the voice said again. It sounded exactly like Luca, but it lacked the deep, resonant warmth he always carried. It was a perfect, chilling imitation.

Daniel.

The head of security had planted the watch in my pocket. He was working with Vanessa and Dominic.

“I know you’re in there,” Daniel’s real voice finally slipped through, dropping the imitation. “Mr. Moretti went down to the vault. It’s just you and me. Open the door and we can make this easy.”

I pressed my hand over my mouth to muffle my breathing. I looked around the study for a weapon. A heavy crystal decanter. A bronze letter opener. Anything.

“Vanessa doesn’t want to hurt you,” Daniel lied smoothly. “She just wants the watch back. It was a mistake. Hand it over, and you can walk out the front door.”

My eyes darted to the gold pocket watch sitting on the desk.

Answer one. Daniel was the inside man. He controlled the cameras. That’s why there was no interior footage of the gift room.

Open two. Why was this specific watch so important that Daniel risked blowing his cover to get it back?

I picked up the watch and pried the back casing off with my thumbnail.

A small, folded piece of paper fell out onto the desk.

I unfolded it. It wasn't paper. It was a tightly coiled piece of microfiche.

Before I could hold it up to the light, a loud bang hit the study door.

Daniel was kicking it.

“Last chance, Hannah,” he hissed.

I grabbed the heavy bronze letter opener from Luca’s desk and limped as fast as I could toward the small en-suite bathroom. I locked that door behind me just as I heard the heavy crack of the main study door splintering open.

Wood shattered against the floor.

Heavy footsteps stepped onto the Persian rug.

“Hannah,” Daniel said, his voice dropping all pretense of friendliness.

I sat on the cold tile floor of the bathroom, clutching the letter opener, terrified to breathe.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my apron pocket.

I yanked it out. A text message from an unknown number.

Look in the bathtub.

My heart stopped. I slowly turned my head toward the large, clawfoot porcelain tub behind me.

The shower curtain was drawn shut.

I swallowed hard, my grip tightening on the bronze blade. I reached out and pulled the curtain back.

Lying in the bottom of the dry bathtub was a beaded rosary.

It was made of black onyx stones, with a heavy silver cross.

I recognized it instantly. It was the exact rosary my mother had given me the day I went into the foster system. I had lost it ten years ago.

Or so I thought.

Someone had been in my tiny bedroom in the servant's quarters. Someone had taken this from my private box and placed it here.

Another text buzzed.

I kept it safe for you. Climb out the window. Now.

I stared at the screen.

Who is this? I typed back with shaking thumbs.

The reply was instant.

Mia.

I dropped the phone.

Luca’s sister was alive. She was in the house. And she was communicating with me.

Outside the bathroom door, Daniel’s footsteps stopped.

“Found you,” he whispered.

He didn't bother trying the knob. He aimed a silenced pistol at the lock and fired twice.

Phut. Phut.

The wood splintered, and the door swung open.

Daniel stood in the doorway, the gun pointed squarely at my chest.

“Give me the watch,” he demanded.

I backed up until my shoulders hit the cold bathroom tile wall. I held the letter opener out, my hand trembling violently.

“I don't have it,” I lied.

Daniel sighed. “Vanessa said you were going to be difficult.”

He raised the gun to my face.

Before he could pull the trigger, a shadow dropped from the bathroom skylight above him.

A heavy, booted foot connected squarely with Daniel’s jaw.

The gun fired wildly, the bullet shattering the bathroom mirror above the sink.

Daniel crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Standing over him was a woman in a black tactical suit. Her dark hair was pulled back tightly. Her pale skin was identical to Luca’s.

It was the woman from the diner. Ten years later.

Mia Moretti.

She looked at me, her chest heaving. She reached down, picked up the gun, and tucked it into her waistband.

“You grew up,” Mia said softly.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” I whispered.

“I had to be,” she replied. “To protect my son. But Vanessa found him today. That’s why Dominic brought the drawing to the gift room. It was a ransom note.”

My breath caught. “The boy in the drawing… Leo. He’s your son?”

“Yes,” Mia said, her eyes blazing with a fierce, maternal terror. “Vanessa kidnapped him this morning. She told Dominic that if he doesn't help her steal the ledger from the vault tonight, she’ll kill my boy.”

“Why doesn't Luca know?” I pleaded. “Why didn't you go to your brother?”

Mia’s face crumbled into absolute despair.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, velvet jewelry box. She tossed it onto the bathroom floor between us.

It sprang open.