THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE ORDERED ME TO CUT HIS DEAD MOTHER’S HANDMADE QUILT INTO WEDDING DECORATIONS—THEN HE NOTICED THE SMALL RED PATCH I WAS HIDING IN MY APRON AND ASKED,

Chapter 10 – UNFINISHED BUSINESS

Giovanni didn’t take an army of guards. He only took two men, and he insisted I come with him.

“She blames you, Claire,” he explained as the SUV sped toward the city’s industrial district. “If there’s a loose end, I want you to see it cut. You need to know you’re safe.”

We pulled up to a dingy, rundown motel near the railyards. It was a far cry from the luxury Bianca was accustomed to.

Giovanni’s men kicked the door open.

Bianca was sitting on a stained mattress, packing a cheap suitcase. She looked hollow, exhausted, and terrified. The burns on her arms from the mansion fire were poorly bandaged.

She froze when Giovanni walked in.

“Please,” she whispered, backing into the wall. “I have nothing left. The police froze my accounts. Marcus’s associates are hunting me for his money. Just let me go.”

Giovanni stood in the center of the miserable room. “You tried to burn my housekeeper alive. You kidnapped my sister.”

“I was desperate!” she cried.

Giovanni reached into his jacket. Bianca flinched, closing her eyes, bracing for a bullet.

Instead, Giovanni tossed a thick manila envelope onto the bed.

Bianca opened her eyes, staring at it in confusion.

“There is fifty thousand dollars in cash in there, and a one-way ticket to Buenos Aires under a new name,” Giovanni said coldly.

Bianca gasped. “You’re… you’re helping me?”

“I’m erasing you,” he corrected. “My sister is growing up in peace. Claire is living in peace. I will not have blood on my hands to ruin the home we are building.”

He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper.

“But if you ever return to this country, Bianca… I won’t send guards. I will handle it myself.”

Bianca nodded frantically, clutching the envelope to her chest.

Giovanni turned and walked out. I lingered for a moment, looking at the woman who had once treated me like dirt on her shoe.

She looked up at me, her eyes filled with bitter tears.

“You won, maid,” she spat weakly.

I stood tall, feeling the weight of the gold bracelet on my wrist.

“I didn’t win a game, Bianca. I just survived yours.”

I turned and walked out into the sunlight.

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