YOU CAN STAND TONIGHT, SARAH. THERE'S NO ROOM LEFT AT THE TABLE.” MY MAFIA HUSBAND LET HIS MISTRESS TAKE MY CHAIR IN FRONT OF TWENTY-FOUR RELATIVES—BUT HIS 83-YEAR-OLD GRANDMOTHER NOTICED SOMETHING ON THE WOMAN'S PHONE AND ORDERED EVERYONE TO STAY SEATED -

Chapter 7 – NO LONGER A PAWN

The gunshot was deafening. Dust rained down from the antique chandelier.

Carmine howled in pain, dropping the revolver as the heavy silver crushed his hand.

Before he could recover, Vincent tackled him. The two men crashed into the china cabinet, sending hundreds of glass shards flying across the Persian rug.

I scrambled out from under the table, pulling Nonna Vittoria with me.

Vincent pinned Carmine to the floor, his knee pressed into his uncle’s throat. He snatched the dropped revolver and pressed it against Carmine’s temple.

“Give me one reason,” Vincent panted, his eyes dark with fury. “One reason not to end you right here.”

Carmine choked, blood dripping from his nose. “Because if I don’t walk out of here tonight… they’ll kill the boy.”

Vincent froze.

My blood ran cold. “Leo?”

Carmine gave a wet, painful cough. “My men picked him up an hour ago from the safe house. Madeline gave me the address. If I don’t call them by nine o’clock… the kid is gone.”

Vincent let out an agonizing cry. He lowered the gun, his shoulders shaking. The untouchable mafia boss was completely broken.

He looked up at me, tears streaming down his bruised face.

“I’m sorry, Sarah,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. I tried to do it all on my own. I tried to push you away so they wouldn’t look at you. I ruined our marriage to keep you safe, and I still lost him.”

He dropped the gun and buried his face in his hands.

I looked at the man who had humiliated me an hour ago. He wasn’t a monster. He was a desperate father who had played a terrible game of chess and lost.

I walked over to Carmine, who was smiling weakly.

I picked up the gold pocket watch he had dropped.

“What time is it, Carmine?” I asked softly.

He glared at me. “It’s eight-forty. You have twenty minutes before my men—”

“Before your men do what?” I interrupted.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out Madeline’s cell phone. The one she had used to record me. The one she had left behind in her panic when the lights went out.

I tapped the screen.

“You think Madeline gave you the real address?” I asked.

Carmine’s smile faded.

I pressed play on a voice memo. Madeline’s frantic voice filled the room.

“Uncle Carmine, I sent the men to the decoy house in Evanston. The boy isn’t there. I can’t do this anymore. I’m taking the Rome ticket and I’m leaving. Don’t come looking for me.”