GET THAT DIRTY WAITRESS OUT OF MY WEDDING! AND IF YOU LET HER TOUCH MY DRESS, YOU’RE FIRED!” THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE HUMILIATED HIS 31-YEAR-OLD MAID IN FRONT OF SEVENTY GUESTS—BUT WHEN THE 63-YEAR-OLD WOMAN SET A HOMEMADE WEDDING CAKE ON THE TABLE AND WHISPERED, “I JUST WANTED TO SEE MY DAUGHTER IN WHITE,” SEBASTIAN ROMANO SLOWLY REMOVED HIS ENGAGEMENT RING.*

Chapter 10 – THE GREEN COAT

I stared at the faded green coat in my hands.

“Sebastian,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “This is Ruth’s coat.”

Sebastian frowned, stepping closer.

“That’s impossible. Ruth wore her coat to the rehearsal dinner six months ago.”

“I know,” I said, examining the fabric. “But look at the lining. It’s identical. The exact same brand, the exact same wear patterns on the cuffs.”

I reached into the pocket of the coat.

My fingers brushed against a piece of paper.

I pulled it out.

It was a black-and-white photograph.

A picture of two young people, laughing in front of a small diner.

One was a young Antonio Romano.

The other was a young Ruth Ellis.

Sebastian went completely pale.

“My father… and Ruth?”

I turned the photograph over.

Written on the back, in Antonio’s handwriting, were the words:

The only woman I ever truly loved. I bought the diner so she would always have a home, even if she couldn’t be mine.

The truth hit us both at exactly the same time.

Antonio Romano didn’t just hide Ruth in Pennsylvania to protect Elias from Julian Vance.

He hid her there because he loved her.

“He bought the diner for her,” Sebastian whispered, realizing the magnitude of his father’s secret. “He kept her safe. He watched over her from afar.”

Sebastian looked at the silver rosary in the box.

“He left this here for me to find,” Sebastian realized. “He wanted me to know that true love isn’t about power or empires. It’s about protecting the people who matter.”

I looked at Sebastian, my heart aching for the father he had never truly known.

“He was a good man, Sebastian,” I said softly.

Suddenly, a loud creak echoed through the abandoned bank.

We both spun around.

The heavy front doors, which we had left slightly ajar, were now closed shut.

Footsteps echoed on the dusty marble floor.

Someone stepped out from the shadows near the old teller windows.

It was a man.

He was wearing a dark suit, his face obscured by a wide-brimmed hat.

“I always knew Antonio left something in this town,” the man said.

The voice was familiar.

Too familiar.

The man stepped into the light.

It was Elias Vance.

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