THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME CATCH THE BLUE BIRTHDAY BALLOON HIS NINE-YEAR-OLD SON'S FUTURE STEPMOTHER HAD JUST CUT LOOSE DURING HIS ENGAGEMENT DINNER—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “HE LET IT GO TO RUIN THE DECORATIONS,” BEFORE HE EVEN ASKED WHY THE LITTLE BOY WAS CRYING AND WHISPERING

“He’s bluffing,” Caroline said desperately. “Luca, it’s a piece of paper from twenty years ago!”

“In our world, blood contracts are absolute,” Luca said, his voice terrifyingly hollow. “The Commission enforces them. If I don't honor my father’s signature, the other five families will strip me of everything and execute me for breaking the code.”

“There has to be a way out,” I said, clutching my bleeding shoulder.

“The only way to break a blood contract is to destroy the original document,” Luca explained, accelerating through the rain-slicked streets. “What he put in the glove box is just a copy.”

“Where is the original?” Caroline asked.

Luca’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

“Bellini never lets it out of his sight. It’s kept in a steel vault at his compound.”

“Wait,” I interrupted, a sudden, sharp memory piercing through the adrenaline.

Everyone looked at me.

“Miss Vanessa,” I gasped, sitting up straight despite the pain. “Before the engagement dinner… I was unpacking her luggage in the master suite.”

Luca glanced at me in the mirror. “And?”

“She had a coat. A heavy, black silk coat. It was custom-made. I went to hang it up, and she screamed at me to drop it. She grabbed it from me like it was on fire.”

I swallowed hard, the pieces falling into place.

“Mr. Moretti… there was a thick envelope sewn into the lining. I felt it when I held the coat. I thought it was cash. But when I asked her if she wanted me to put it in the safe, she said, ‘My father gave me this to hold until Saturday. If it leaves my sight, he’ll kill me.’”

Luca slammed on the brakes.

The heavy SUV skidded to a halt in an abandoned industrial park, rain hammering against the roof.

He turned around in his seat, staring at me.

“Are you certain, Rachel? You’re certain she said her father gave it to her?”

“Yes. She locked the coat in the false bottom of her cedar trunk at the foot of your bed.”

Luca exhaled a shaky breath.

“He didn't trust his own vault,” Luca muttered, realization dawning. “Bellini knew I might try to raid his compound before the wedding. He gave the original contract to Vanessa to hide in my own house, right under my nose.”

“If we destroy the original, he has no claim,” Caroline realized. “The Commission won't enforce a copy.”

“I have to go back,” Luca said immediately, shifting the car into gear.

“No!” Caroline grabbed his shoulder. “Luca, Marco's men are crawling all over the estate! They’ll kill you the second you walk through the gates!”

“If I don't get that contract, they’ll take Ben tomorrow anyway!” Luca shouted, his control finally cracking. “I won't lose my son, Caroline! I won't!”

“Daddy, please don't yell,” Benjamin whimpered.

Luca instantly softened, reaching back to touch his son's knee. “I’m sorry, buddy. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

I looked at my blood-stained apron. I thought of my mother. I thought of this little boy who just wanted a blue balloon, and this fierce father who was willing to die for a child that wasn't even biologically his.

“Mr. Moretti,” I said quietly.

Luca looked at me.

“They’re looking for a mafia boss,” I said. “They’re looking for a man with a gun.”

“Rachel, no—”

“I’m a maid,” I said, my voice steadying. “I know the estate better than Bellini’s men. I know the servant tunnels. I know every blind spot in the camera system. I have the key to Miss Vanessa's trunk.”

“You’re injured,” Luca said firmly. “I am not sending a twenty-five-year-old girl to do my job.”

“If you go, you die,” I told him, looking him dead in the eye. “And if you die, Benjamin loses his father. I’m going.”

Ten minutes later, the SUV was parked two blocks from the Moretti estate.

Luca handed me a small, heavy silver lighter.

“You don't bring the contract back to me,” Luca instructed, his eyes dark with serious intensity. “If you get caught with it, they’ll kill you on the spot. The second you get it out of the coat, you burn it. You make sure it turns to absolute ash. Understand?”

I took the lighter. It was cold metal, engraved with the Moretti crest.

“I understand.”

“Use the old coal chute to get in. It leads straight to the laundry lifts. You can take the dumbwaiter up to the master suite without stepping foot in a hallway.”

I nodded, slipping the lighter into my apron pocket.

I opened the door and stepped out into the freezing rain.

“Rachel!” Benjamin called out.

I leaned back in.

The nine-year-old boy reached into his pocket. He pulled out the blue ribbon from his birthday balloon. The one Vanessa had cut.

He pressed it into my hand.

“For luck,” he whispered.

Tears burned my eyes. I tied the blue ribbon around my wrist.

“I’ll be right back, sweetheart,” I promised.

I ran through the darkness, slipping through the iron bars of the outer gate where the stone had crumbled years ago. The estate was swarming with Bellini’s men, their flashlights cutting through the heavy rain.

I stayed low, crawling through the mud until I reached the rusted iron door of the old coal chute.

I pulled it open and slid down into the pitch black of the cellar.

I moved purely by memory. Past the wine racks. Through the laundry room. I squeezed into the heavy wooden dumbwaiter and pulled the manual rope, hoisting myself up three floors.

My shoulder screamed in agony with every pull, but I didn't stop.

I reached the third floor. I pushed the wooden door open and crawled out into the massive, silent master suite.

The room was dark, lit only by flashes of lightning outside the window.

I moved to the foot of the massive king bed.

The cedar trunk.

I pulled the master skeleton key from my pocket, my hands shaking violently. I slid it into the brass lock.

Click.

I opened the lid. I threw out the expensive sweaters and silk scarves until I found the false bottom. I pried it up.

There it was.

The heavy, black silk coat.

I grabbed it, feeling the lining. My fingers brushed against the stiff outline of a thick parchment envelope sewn inside.

Got it.