THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME WRAP MY OWN COAT AROUND HIS 78-YEAR-OLD GODMOTHER AT HIS ENGAGEMENT DINNER—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “SHE SHOWED UP UNINVITED,” BEFORE HE EVEN ASKED WHY THE WOMAN WAS SOAKED FROM HEAD TO TOE

Chapter 3 – THE SINS OF THE FATHER

The rain slashed against the SUV’s windshield.

Marco stared at the phone. “Your father ordered the hit on mine?”

“Yes,” Celeste sobbed. “Our fathers were business rivals. When your dad refused to sell the waterfront property, my father hired Victor to run him off the road. It was supposed to be a warning. But Victor hit him too hard.”

I felt sick to my stomach.

“Why did you get engaged to me, Celeste?” Marco’s voice was venomous.

“Because the money ran out!” she cried. “My father died broke. I needed the Bellini wealth to survive. I found Daniel first, but he got suspicious. He started looking into the old accounts. He found the payments to Victor.”

It all made sense.

Daniel had gone to prison to protect Marco from the woman he loved, and from the bodyguard he trusted.

“Where are you right now?” Marco asked.

“The wine cellar,” she whispered. “Victor locked me in. He said I talked too much. Marco, he’s coming back for me. You have to help me.”

A loud shattering sound echoed over the phone line.

Then, Victor’s voice came through.

“She always did talk too much, Boss.”

Marco gripped the steering wheel. “Victor. Do not touch her.”

“She’s a liability, Marco,” Victor said calmly. “Just like your brother. I’m cleaning up the mess.”

“I have the photograph, Victor. I know what you did.”

Victor laughed. A cold, empty sound. “A twenty-year-old photo doesn’t prove anything in court. But I can’t have you digging up that storage unit. Come back to the house, Marco. Come alone. Or I burn the mansion to the ground with your fiancée and your godmother inside.”

The line went dead.

Marco threw the phone against the dashboard.

“Mr. Bellini,” I said, my voice shaking. “Mrs. D’Angelo is still in my room.”

Marco shoved the SUV into drive. He whipped the car around, speeding back toward the estate.

“I’m not letting him hurt her, Olivia.”

We arrived at the gates in under ten minutes.

The massive iron gates were locked from the inside. Marco didn’t hesitate. He drove the heavy SUV straight through them, the metal groaning and snapping under the impact.

He parked near the servant’s entrance.

Marco reached under his seat and pulled out a heavy black handgun. He checked the magazine, then looked at me.

“Stay in the car.”

“No,” I said firmly. “I know the servant corridors better than anyone. I can get to Helen while you distract Victor.”

Marco studied my face. For the first time, he saw something more than just a maid.

“Be careful,” he whispered.

We slipped through the kitchen doors. The mansion was completely silent.

Marco nodded toward the main hallway, signaling he was heading for the basement.

I hurried down the narrow back hallway toward my bedroom.

The door was ajar.

I pushed it open, my heart in my throat.

Helen was gone.

The bed was empty. The room had been tossed.

I backed out into the hallway and bumped hard into someone’s chest.

A heavy hand clamped over my mouth.

I screamed into the leather glove, thrashing wildly.

“Quiet!” a gruff voice whispered.

The man spun me around and released my mouth.

He was tall, wearing a soaked dark jacket. His face was pale, his eyes sharp and familiar. He looked exactly like Marco, just a few years younger.

“Daniel,” I gasped.

“You’re Olivia,” he said quickly. “Helen told me about you.”

“You’re supposed to be in prison!”

“I got released early on parole this morning,” Daniel said. “I came straight here. Where is my brother?”

“He went to the basement to stop Victor.”

Daniel cursed under his breath. “Victor has three men with him. Marco is walking into an ambush.”

Before we could move, a gunshot rang out from the front of the house.

Daniel pulled a gun from his jacket. “Find Helen. She hid in the laundry room.”

He sprinted toward the main hall.

I ran to the laundry room, pulling open the heavy wooden door.

Helen was huddled behind the massive washing machines, clutching a small leather bound book.

“Olivia!” she cried softly.

“Come on, we have to get out of here.”

I helped her up, but as she stood, the leather book slipped from her hands.

It hit the floor, falling open.

I reached down to pick it up.

It was a birth certificate.

I glanced at the names.

Mother: Susie Warren (Celeste).

Father: Daniel Bellini.

And at the top, the name of a five-year-old boy.

Leo Bellini.

I looked at Helen in shock. “Celeste and Daniel have a son?”

Helen nodded, her eyes full of sorrow. “That’s the real reason Daniel took the fall. Celeste threatened to disappear with the boy if he didn’t cover up her father’s crimes.”

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