STOP HELPING HIM! HE’S THIRTY-TWO YEARS OLD, NOT A TODDLER, AND NOBODY WANTS TO LISTEN TO HIM STUTTER!” THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE HUMILIATED HIS 27-YEAR-OLD MAID FOR HELPING A NERVOUS MAN PREPARE A TOAST—BUT WHEN THE MAN WHISPERED, “I RAISED HER AFTER MOM DIED,” MATTEO RUSSO SLOWLY PUT DOWN HIS GLASS

Chapter 2 – The Blood-Stained Ledger In The Floorboards

Matteo stared at me.

For the first time since I started working at the mansion, the ruthless head of the Russo family looked genuinely afraid.

He quickly folded the black paper and slid it into his jacket pocket.

“Arthur,” Matteo said, his voice entirely different now. It was urgent. “Who gave you this box?”

Arthur blinked, confused by the sudden shift in tone.

“Why, Victoria did,” the old man said. “She visited the hardware store yesterday morning. She said the clasp on her mother’s bracelet was broken and she needed to bring it to a jeweler here in the city.”

Matteo slowly turned toward his fiancée.

Victoria was trembling, her face pale as a ghost.

“You went to his store yesterday?” Matteo asked.

“Matteo, please,” Victoria whispered. “Let’s talk about this in private.”

“Did you put this note in the box, Victoria?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” she cried out.

Andrew stepped between his sister and the mafia boss.

“Leave her alone,” Andrew stuttered, though his hands were shaking. “Don’t yell at her in front of Dad.”

Matteo didn’t even look at Andrew. His eyes were burning holes into Victoria.

He snapped his fingers.

Two massive security guards in black suits stepped out from the shadows of the hallway.

“Escort our guests out,” Matteo commanded. “The engagement dinner is over.”

Murmurs erupted around the table, but nobody argued. When Matteo Russo gave an order, Chicago obeyed.

Within three minutes, the dining room was empty, save for Matteo, Victoria, Andrew, Arthur, and me.

“Grace,” Matteo said. “Take Arthur to the sitting room. Make him some tea.”

“No,” Arthur protested weakly. “I want to stay with my children. What is going on?”

I gently touched the old man’s arm. “Please, Mr. Hayes. Let’s sit down. Your legs are shaking.”

I guided Arthur to the velvet sofa by the fireplace in the adjoining room. I could still hear the argument in the dining room.

“You sold him out,” Matteo was snarling. “Where is the money, Victoria? The half-million dollars you took from your father!”

“I didn’t keep it!” Victoria sobbed. “I had to pay them, Matteo! They threatened me!”

I poured Arthur a cup of Earl Grey, my hands trembling.

We know who Grace really is.

What did the note mean? I was an orphan. I grew up in the foster system. I had no family, no secrets, no money.

Arthur took the teacup from me, his ancient eyes studying my face.

“You have very kind eyes, Grace,” he whispered.

“Thank you, Mr. Hayes.”

He leaned closer. “You look exactly like the woman in the photograph.”

I froze. “What photograph?”

“The one hidden in the velvet box,” Arthur said. “Beneath the velvet lining. I saw Victoria hide it there yesterday when she thought I wasn’t looking.”

My blood ran cold.

I stood up and quietly walked back toward the dining room doors. They were slightly ajar.

Matteo was holding the velvet box. He had pulled the inner lining out.

He was staring at an old, faded Polaroid.

Victoria was crying on the floor.

“They told me if I didn’t pay them, they would tell you the truth,” Victoria wept. “They said you would kill me if you found out.”

“Found out what?” Matteo roared.

Victoria pointed a shaking finger toward the hallway, right where I was standing.

“That Grace isn’t just a maid,” Victoria sobbed. “Her real name is Isabella Russo. She’s your half-sister, Matteo.”

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