THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME PLACE A DINNER PLATE IN FRONT OF HIS NINE-YEAR-OLD SON AT HIS ENGAGEMENT PARTY

I pulled Benjamin closer to me, shielding him behind my apron.

Luca stared at the silver key resting on the white tablecloth. His chest rose and fell in jagged, uneven breaths.

"You're lying," Luca whispered.

"Am I?" Vanessa crossed her arms. "I found the key three weeks ago when I was clearing out her old vanity. I opened the box. I saw the ticket, Luca. I saw the letter."

"What letter?"

Vanessa smiled, but it was hollow. "Go read it yourself. It’s why I’m sending Benjamin away. Because if he stays here, eventually he’ll find out the truth—that his mother didn't just die. She abandoned him."

"Stop it!" Benjamin cried out, burying his face in my apron. "Mommy loved me!"

Luca’s eyes snapped to his son, his face breaking with agony. Then, he looked at me.

"Claire. Take him upstairs. Lock the bedroom door."

"Yes, Mr. Moretti."

I scooped Benjamin up into my arms. He was nine, a bit too big to be carried, but he clung to my neck like a toddler. As I hurried out of the dining room, I heard Luca’s voice, cold and terrifying.

"If you are lying to me, Vanessa, the wedding is off, and I will destroy your family’s company by morning."

I ran up the grand staircase, my heart hammering.

Inside Benjamin’s room, I locked the door and sat with him on the bed. He was sobbing softly, clutching the pink ribbon he had taken from the dining table.

"Miss Claire," he hiccuped. "Did Mommy run away?"

"No, Benjamin," I said fiercely, smoothing his hair. "Your mother loved you more than anything in the world. People say mean things when they’re angry."

"But Vanessa said..."

"Vanessa is wrong."

I held him until his tears slowed and his breathing leveled out. I tucked him under the heavy quilt.

"Miss Claire?"

"I'm right here, sweetie."

"Can you find Mommy's picture? The one Vanessa took?"

My heart ached. "I will try, Ben. I promise."

He closed his eyes, exhausted by the trauma of the evening. I sat in the dark for an hour, listening to the muffled sounds of shouting downstairs. Eventually, the front door slammed. Tires screeched on the gravel driveway.

Vanessa was gone.

I quietly slipped out of the bedroom to go to the kitchen. I needed to get Benjamin a glass of water.

But as I walked past Luca’s private study, the door was ajar.

A single desk lamp was on.

Luca was sitting on the leather sofa, his head buried in his hands. On the coffee table in front of him sat an ornate wooden jewelry box. It was open.

Beside it lay a faded airline ticket.

And a handwritten letter.

I shouldn't have stopped. I was just a maid. But seeing a man so powerful look so completely broken anchored my feet to the floor.

Luca looked up. His eyes were red.

"She was right, Claire."

I hesitated, then stepped into the room. "Mr. Moretti?"

He picked up the airline ticket. "Paris. Dated the night she died. She was leaving us."

"Sir, there must be a mistake..."

He picked up the letter. "It's her handwriting. It says she couldn't take the pressure anymore. The danger of my life. She said she had to disappear."

He dropped the paper as if it burned him.

"I bought her everything," he whispered. "I loved her with everything I had. And she was going to leave her own son."

I looked down at the letter. From where I stood, I could see the elegant cursive.

But something caught my eye.

Something that made the blood freeze in my veins.

"Mr. Moretti," I said, stepping closer to the table. "May I look at that letter?"

He waved a hand dismissively. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"Please, sir."

I picked up the heavy parchment. I read the first line.

My dearest Luca, I can no longer bear the weight of this life...

"Sir," I said softly. "Caroline was left-handed, wasn't she?"

Luca frowned, looking up at me. "Yes. Why?"

I turned the paper toward the light.

"Because left-handed people pull the pen across the page. It often leaves tiny smudges on wet ink." I pointed to the words. "These strokes are pushed. The pressure is on the right side of the loops. Sir... Caroline didn't write this."

Luca stood up, snatching the paper from my hands.

He stared at it. His breathing stopped.

"It's a forgery," he whispered.

"Someone planted it in her box," I said.

Luca looked at the jewelry box. He reached inside and pulled out the velvet tray. Underneath, hidden in a secret compartment, was a man's gold watch.

The glass face was shattered.

The hands were frozen at exactly 11:42.

"This isn't mine," Luca said, staring at the watch. "And it wasn't here before."

He turned the watch over.

Engraved on the back were three initials: D. M. B.

Luca’s face went completely pale.

"D.M.B," I read aloud. "Who is that?"