Chapter 2 – THE COAT IN THE HALLWAY

My heart slammed against my ribs.

I stared at the tiny photograph in Evelyn’s trembling hand.

Vincenzo Caruso, the legendary patriarch, smiling down at a baby boy.

Marco.

“Mrs. Caruso,” I whispered, glancing around the empty dining room. The guests had fled. Only the staff remained, quietly clearing crystal glasses as if the mafia boss hadn’t just cancelled his wedding. “Does Antonio know?”

Evelyn shook her head slowly.

A tear tracked through the soft wrinkles of her cheek.

“Vincenzo… made… me… promise.”

She struggled with the words, but her eyes were sharp, bright with an old, buried grief.

“Promise to keep it a secret?” I asked.

She nodded. “To… protect… Antonio.”

I looked toward the grand staircase. Marco, the ruthless underboss, the man who controlled Antonio’s security, his finances, his life.

He wasn’t just an employee. He was blood.

And he was the one who had forged the guardianship papers to get Evelyn out of the house.

But why?

“Lily!”

I jumped.

Antonio was standing in the doorway of his study, his suit jacket off, his tie loosened. He looked exhausted.

“Take my mother upstairs. Make sure her door is locked. No one goes in or out except you.”

“Yes, sir,” I said quickly.

I helped Evelyn to her feet. She slipped the pocket watch back into her cardigan, pressing it against her heart.

As we walked through the grand foyer, I noticed Bianca’s emerald-green cashmere coat draped over a velvet chair.

Marco must have dropped it when he escorted her upstairs.

Something shiny caught my eye.

A heavy, gold bracelet was slipping out of the coat pocket.

It wasn’t Bianca’s style. She preferred diamonds, thin and delicate. This was thick, masculine, engraved with a crest.

I stopped.

“Just a moment, Mrs. Caruso.”

I reached out and pushed the bracelet back into the pocket so it wouldn’t fall.

But as my fingers brushed the silk lining, I felt thick, crisp paper.

I shouldn’t have looked. I was a maid. My job was to serve dinner and help an old woman practice her speech.

But my brother’s life, his nursing school, depended on this house remaining stable.

I pulled out the paper.

It was a bank receipt.

An offshore wire transfer from an account in the Cayman Islands.

The amount was staggering. Five million dollars.

Transferred yesterday.

The sender was Bianca Romano.

The recipient was Marco Caruso.

“Lily?” Evelyn whispered, noticing my frozen posture.

I shoved the receipt back into the pocket, my hands shaking.

Bianca wasn’t acting alone to get rid of Evelyn. She had paid Marco five million dollars to do it.

They were working together.

But before I could process what this meant, a heavy hand clamped down on my shoulder.

I gasped, spinning around.

Marco stood there. His dark eyes were dead, his face devoid of emotion.

“Snooping, little bird?” he asked softly.

“I… I was just hanging up the coat,” I stammered, my throat dry.

Marco smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He reached into his own jacket and pulled out a manila folder.

“You have a brother, don’t you, Lily? Thomas Bennett. First-year nursing student at Penn State.”

My blood froze.

“Leave him alone,” I whispered.

“Oh, I’m not going to touch him,” Marco said smoothly. “But I noticed his tuition was paid by a charitable foundation. A foundation I control.”

He leaned in close. He smelled of expensive cologne and gun oil.

“One phone call, and his scholarship is gone. His career is over. You’ll both be on the street.”

Evelyn tried to step forward, to protect me. “Don’t… you… dare.”

Marco didn’t even look at her. “Keep the old woman quiet, Lily. And keep what you saw to yourself. Or tomorrow, you won’t just lose your job.”

He picked up Bianca’s coat and walked up the stairs.

I stood paralyzed.

If I told Antonio, Marco would destroy my brother’s future.

If I didn’t, Marco would destroy Antonio’s family.

I guided Evelyn to her room in silence, my mind racing.

When I tucked her into bed, she reached under her pillow and pulled out her old, wooden rosary.

She pressed the crucifix into my palm.

“Look,” she whispered.

I looked down.

The back of the wooden cross slid open.

Inside was a tiny, brass key.

“What is this for?” I asked.

Evelyn looked toward her bedroom window, out at the sprawling city lights of Philadelphia.

“The… real… will.”

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