GET THAT FILTHY OLD BEGGAR OUT OF MY HOUSE! AND YOU, LITTLE MAID, CAN LEAVE WITH HER!” THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE HUMILIATED HIS 26-YEAR-OLD HOUSEMAID IN FRONT OF SIXTY WEALTHY GUESTS—BUT WHEN THE ELDERLY WOMAN PULLED A FADED SCHOOL PHOTOGRAPH FROM HER PURSE AND CALLED HIM “MY LITTLE NICKY,” NICHOLAS VALENTINO DROPPED HIS GLA

Chapter 3 – THE SECOND APPLE BROOCH

The silver apple brooch clattered against the cheap glass of our coffee table.

It was identical to the one Mrs. Harper wore on her worn brown coat.

Arthur Sterling stepped fully into the cramped, dimly lit apartment. He was in his late sixties, with silver hair and eyes as cold as a frozen lake. His three armed men fanned out, their silenced weapons pointed directly at Nicholas and me.

My mother let out a terrified whimper and pulled me behind her fragile body, trying to shield me just as she had thirty years ago.

“Arthur,” Nicholas said.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t raise his hands. Nicholas Valentino just stood in the center of the small living room, a billionaire mafia boss radiating absolute, lethal calm.

“Nicholas, my boy,” Arthur said smoothly, buttoning his suit jacket. “I received a frantic phone call from Rebecca a few minutes ago. She said you were tearing up the Sullivan Street house. I see you found my old watch.”

“I found the murder weapon that put my father in a cage for thirty years,” Nicholas corrected, his voice a low rumble.

Arthur sighed, a theatrical display of boredom.

“It was a messy night,” Arthur admitted, not even bothering to deny it. “My partner was trying to cut me out of a massive zoning deal. I handled it. Your father was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Arthur looked down at my mother, who was trembling violently against me.

“Hello, Helen,” Arthur said cruelly. “I see you kept your mouth shut all these years. Good girl. It’s a shame you forgot how to stay out of my way.”

“Don’t you speak to her,” I snarled, surprising myself with the venom in my voice. I stepped out from behind my mother, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Nicholas.

Arthur laughed. “The little maid has teeth. Rebecca told me you were a nuisance.”

Arthur pointed to the silver apple brooch on the coffee table.

“Do you know what that is, Nicholas?” Arthur asked.

Nicholas stared at the silver pin. “Mrs. Harper was wearing one tonight.”

“Exactly,” Arthur smiled. “When I framed your father, I needed to make sure the loose ends stayed tied. Helen here was terrified into silence because of her bastard child. But Mrs. Harper?”

Arthur shook his head in mock disappointment.

“Your beloved first-grade teacher saw me leaving the alleyway covered in blood. She was going to go to the police.”

Nicholas’s jaw tightened. “But she didn’t.”

“No, she didn’t,” Arthur sneered. “Because I bought her. Her husband was dying of leukemia. They couldn’t afford the treatments. I paid for his hospital bills, and in exchange, the noble Mrs. Harper kept her mouth shut and let your father take the fall.”

Nicholas flinched.

It was the first time all night I saw him look truly wounded. The woman who had fed him, the woman who had taught him that worth was measured by kindness, had been bribed to let his father rot in prison.

“I gave all my silent partners a little token of our agreement,” Arthur said, gesturing to the brooch. “An apple for the teacher. A reminder of who paid her bills.”

“You’re a monster,” I whispered.

“I’m a pragmatist,” Arthur corrected. “And right now, the practical thing to do is eliminate the three people in this room who know the truth. Hand over the watch, Nicholas.”

The three gunmen raised their weapons.

Nicholas didn’t move. He reached into his coat pocket.

The gunmen instantly aimed at his chest.

“Shoot him if he pulls a weapon,” Arthur ordered.

But Nicholas didn’t pull a gun. He pulled out his phone.

He tapped the screen once.

“Look out the window, Arthur,” Nicholas said quietly.

Arthur frowned. He motioned for one of his men to pull back the cheap floral curtains.

The gunman looked outside and immediately lowered his weapon, his face going pale.

“Boss,” the gunman stammered. “We have a problem.”

Arthur walked to the window and looked out.

The narrow street outside my mother’s apartment was completely blocked. Six black SUVs were parked horizontally across the road. Thirty heavily armed men in black suits were standing in the rain, their weapons trained directly on the apartment windows.

At the center of them stood Marco, holding a military-grade assault rifle.

“You think I walk into a rat’s nest without an exterminator?” Nicholas asked, his voice dripping with lethal authority. “You’re a real estate developer, Arthur. You buy politicians. But I run the streets of this city.”

Arthur stepped back from the window, swallowing hard.

“You kill me, Nicholas, and my lawyers will release documents that will destroy your company,” Arthur bluffed, though his voice was shaking.

“I don’t care about the company,” Nicholas said, taking a step toward him. “I care about the thirty years you stole from my father. And the thirty years of fear you inflicted on this woman.”

He pointed at my mother.

“Put your guns on the floor,” Nicholas commanded the three guards. “Now.”

The men looked at the army outside the window. They slowly lowered their weapons and placed them on the carpet.

Arthur’s arrogant facade completely crumbled.

“Nicholas, we can make a deal,” Arthur panicked, backing toward the door. “You want Rebecca? You want the Sullivan properties? Take them all.”

“I’m taking everything,” Nicholas said. “But I’m not killing you, Arthur.”

Arthur let out a breath of relief.

“I’m going to let you live long enough to watch me clear my father’s name, take your empire, and put you in the exact same cell my father has slept in for ten thousand nights.”

Nicholas turned to me. “Sophie, pack a bag for you and your mother. You’re coming with me to the mansion. You’ll be safe there.”

I nodded, tears of relief flooding my eyes.

Arthur, humiliated and cornered, let out a desperate, ugly laugh.

“You think you’ve won?” Arthur sneered as Marco’s men walked in to zip-tie his wrists. “You have the watch, but you don’t have the confession. Without my ledger, it’s just a bloody antique. And you will never find that ledger.”

Nicholas stopped. “What ledger?”

Arthur smiled, a wicked, venomous grin.

“The one your father buried with the watch. It was locked in a steel box. You need two keys to open it. And Rebecca has the second key.”

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