THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE ORDERED ME TO GET RID OF HIS OLD DOG BEFORE THEIR ENGAGEMENT DINNER—BUT WHEN I CARRIED HIM INTO THE DINING ROOM, THE MOST FEARED MAN IN CHICAGO GOT DOWN ON HIS KNEES.

The library was bathed in the dim, dancing amber glow of three beeswax candles resting on Luca’s massive mahogany desk.

When Luca walked in, followed by Daniel and me, Vanessa immediately stood from the settee, her fur stole slipping off one shoulder.

"Luca! Finally!" she exclaimed, her voice shrill with indignation as she smoothed down her red silk dress. "Your guards have been treating me like a prisoner! Do you have any idea how humiliating this is? My father has already called my phone three times! If I'm not home by one in the morning, he’s going to call the Police Superintendent!"

Luca walked behind his desk and sat down in his high-backed leather chair. He didn't invite her to sit. He didn't even look at her face.

He picked up a silver letter opener, turning it over between his long fingers.

"Your father won't be calling the Superintendent, Vanessa," Luca said calmly.

Vanessa’s haughty expression faltered. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Daniel tapped your father’s secure line twenty minutes ago," Luca replied, setting the letter opener down with a soft, metallic click. "He’s currently at the private terminal at O’Hare, preparing his Gulfstream for an unscheduled flight to Zurich. Unfortunately for him, the Federal Aviation Administration grounded all private departures out of Cook County fifteen minutes ago due to an anonymous tip regarding corporate tax fraud."

Vanessa froze. The color drained from her lips once more, leaving her looking hollow and grotesque under the flickering candlelight.

"You... you called the feds?" she whispered, horrified. "A Moretti doesn't call the government! That goes against the Commission's sacred code!"

"A Moretti doesn't call the government when dealing with honorable enemies," Luca said, his voice dropping to a whisper that cut through the room like a razor. "When dealing with thieves who murder old men and starve animals in concrete cellars, a Moretti uses whatever weapon burns the house down the fastest."

He opened a black leather folder lying on the blotter and turned it toward her.

"Freya’s tag was engraved by my father’s jeweler on Michigan Avenue on October fourteenth, twenty-twenty-two," Luca continued, leaning back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "The security footage from your father's private office in River North shows your brother, Marco Bellini, delivering that exact brass tag to your father's desk two hours after the shooting on the docks."

Vanessa backed away toward the bookshelves, shaking her head frantically. "I didn't know about that, Luca! I swear to God, I had nothing to do with what happened to your father! That was between the old men! I was just trying to protect my family!"

"You put Bruno in the cold without water," I spoke up, unable to keep the fury from my voice any longer.

Vanessa whipped around to glare at me, her eyes flaring with venomous hatred. "Shut your mouth, you pathetic little maid! You think you're safe because he’s letting you play Florence Nightingale to his mutts? You’re dirt! You’re nobody!"

She lunged toward me, her manicured fingers clawed, aiming for my face.

She never touched me.

Luca moved across the room with a speed that defied his size. In a heartbeat, his hand caught Vanessa’s wrist in an iron grip, twisting it back with enough leverage to force her down onto her knees on the Persian rug.

Vanessa let out a sharp shriek of pain, looking up into a face that held no trace of mercy, no memory of affection, only the cold, unyielding judgment of an executioner.

"Speak to Emma again," Luca whispered into her ear, his voice deadly quiet, "and I will personally ensure that your father’s plane never reaches the runway."

He released her wrist with a flick of disgust. Vanessa collapsed onto the carpet, sobbing hysterically, clutching her bruised arm.

Luca looked down at her, straightening his cuffs.

"The engagement is over," Luca declared. "The Bellini shipping contracts are canceled. By sunrise, your father’s warehouses on the Calumet River will be padlocked by the port authority, and every asset linked to that Swiss account will be frozen by international court order."

He gestured to Daniel.

"Take her to the front gate. Put her in a taxi. If her feet ever touch the driveway of this estate again, shoot her on sight."

"Luca, please!" she wailed, clawing at the hem of his trousers as Daniel hauled her to her feet by her elbows. "You loved me! You were going to marry me!"

Luca looked at her, his eyes devoid of emotion.

"I loved a woman who claimed she would care for my father's memory," Luca said softly. "You are just a thief in a red dress."

Daniel dragged her through the library doors, her frantic screams echoing down the marble gallery until the heavy front doors slammed shut, cutting off the sound forever.

Silence descended upon the house.

I stood by the bookshelves, trembling slightly from the adrenaline crashing through my veins.

Luca stood by the desk, looking down at the open black folder, his broad shoulders rising and falling with a slow, heavy breath.

Then he looked up at me.

"Emma."