GET DOWN ON YOUR KNEES AND CLEAN IT UP!” THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE SCREAMED AFTER POURING RED WINE OVER MY UNIFORM DURING HIS MOTHER’S 80TH BIRTHDAY DINNER—BUT WHEN SHE ORDERED ME TO REMOVE THE OLD WOMAN FROM THE TABLE, HIS MOTHER GRABBED MY WRIST AND SAID, “ROMAN, BEFORE YOU MARRY THAT WOMAN, ASK HER WHAT SHE DID TO YOUR FIRST WIFE.

Chapter 2 – The Shadow In The Hallway

The doorknob twisted again, harder this time.

“Claire, I know you’re in there!” Victoria’s voice was sharp, lacking the performative sweetness she used around Roman. “Open the door or you’re fired. Your mother’s hospital bills will bounce by morning.”

My hand instinctively covered my apron pocket where the second letter rested. My mother’s life depended on this job. The surgery was in four days. If I lost my insurance now, she wouldn’t make it.

I looked at Eleanor. The old woman nodded slowly, pointing toward the en-suite bathroom.

Hide it, she mouthed.

I sprinted into the bathroom, silently shutting the door. I looked desperately for a hiding spot. I couldn’t keep the letter on me—Victoria would demand to search me. I slipped the sealed envelope behind the heavy marble base of the bathtub, praying it wouldn’t be found. The silver bracelet, I shoved deep into my shoe.

I walked back into the bedroom just as Eleanor unlocked the main door.

Victoria burst in, her eyes wild, her expensive updo slightly unraveled. She didn’t look like a future mafia bride anymore; she looked like a cornered animal.

“Where is it?” Victoria demanded, stalking toward Eleanor.

“Where is what, dear?” Eleanor asked innocently, adjusting her shawl.

“Don’t play games with me, you old hag.” Victoria grabbed Eleanor’s arm. “The other letter. Isabella was writing furiously that entire week. She wouldn’t have just left one note. Where is the rest of it?”

“Let her go!” I stepped forward, putting myself between them.

Victoria slapped me.

The crack echoed in the large room. My cheek stung violently, but I didn’t move.

“You filthy little thief,” Victoria spat. “Do you really think you’re safe here? I ran a background check on you the day Roman hired you. Madeline Bennett. That’s your mother, isn’t it?”

My blood ran cold.

“I know what she did at the hospital,” Victoria whispered, stepping closer to me. “And I know why Isabella was so obsessed with her. If Roman finds out who you really are, you won’t just be fired, Claire. You’ll be destroyed.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, my voice trembling. “My mother is a good person.”

“Your mother is a criminal.” Victoria smiled maliciously. “And I have the medical records to prove it.”

Suddenly, the doorway darkened.

Roman stood there. His suit jacket was gone, his tie loosened. He looked from Victoria, to my red cheek, to his mother rubbing her arm.

“Victoria,” Roman said, his voice dangerously low. “Pack your bags.”

Victoria froze. “Roman, sweetheart, I was just—”

“I told you to wait in the study.” Roman stepped into the room, his towering frame casting a long shadow. “You are leaving this house tonight.”

“You can’t do this! The wedding is in two weeks!” Victoria was panicking now. “That letter means nothing! Isabella was crazy!”

“Isabella wrote that you forced her to drink the tea,” Roman said.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

“She wrote that she tasted almonds,” Roman continued, stepping toward Victoria. “And that you stood by the bed and watched her choke.”

Victoria backed into the wall. “She lied!”

“We’ll see,” Roman said quietly. “I’ve just ordered my men to dig up Isabella’s grave. They’re doing a second autopsy.”

Victoria let out a choked gasp. Without another word, she shoved past Roman and ran down the hallway.

Roman watched her go, his expression unreadable. Then he turned to me.

“Claire,” he said gently, noticing the red mark on my cheek. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, sir.”

“Thank you for protecting my mother.” Roman sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “You can go back to your quarters. I’ll stay with her tonight.”

“Yes, sir.”

I turned to leave, my heart pounding. I needed to get back to the bathroom and retrieve the second letter. But as I took a step, I felt a sharp pain in my foot.

The silver bracelet I had shoved into my shoe was cutting into my heel. I limped slightly.

Roman noticed. “Are you hurt?”

“No, just twisted my ankle.”

“Sit down,” Roman ordered. “Let me look at it.”

“No!” I panicked. If he took off my shoe, he would see the bracelet. The bracelet with my mother’s name on it. The bracelet Isabella had stolen.

Roman narrowed his eyes. He stepped closer to me.

“Claire,” he said, his voice losing its gentleness. “What are you hiding in your shoe?”

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