SAY THANK YOU AND SMILE. YOU SHOULD BE GRATEFUL YOU EVEN HAVE A JOB,” THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE TOLD THE YOUNG HOUSEMAID, HANDING HER A WHITE ENVELOPE IN FRONT OF FORTY GUESTS—BUT WHEN LUCA MORETTI SAW WHAT WAS INSIDE, HE QUIETLY ASKED, “WHY DOES THIS SAY SHE RESIGNED YESTERDAY?”

Chapter 1 – THE BEST MAN’S EMPTY LEFT HAND

The silence in the dining room was absolute.

Forty guests stopped breathing.

Luca Moretti didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t reach for a weapon. He simply walked toward his best man.

Marco was thirty-four.

He had grown up with Luca. Bleed for him. Stood by him when Luca’s father died.

Now, Marco was staring at his empty left ring finger like it belonged to a stranger.

“Marco,” Luca said softly. “Where is your wedding band?”

Marco’s wife, Elena, was sitting right beside him. She looked at her husband’s hand, her face completely draining of color.

“Luca, I took it off to wash my hands,” Marco stammered. His voice betrayed him. It shook.

“Did you wash your hands in my upstairs guest suite on Tuesday night?” Luca asked.

Vanessa stepped forward. Her champagne-colored gown rustled loudly in the quiet room.

“Luca, this is insane. You’re taking the word of a disgruntled maid over your best friend.”

Luca didn’t look at her. His dark eyes remained fixed on Marco.

“Hannah,” Luca said, without turning around. “Was there anything else on the nightstand besides the ring?”

I gripped my hands together. My heart was hammering against my ribs.

“Yes, sir,” I whispered.

“What was it?”

“A silver watch. It had a cracked glass face and a dark leather band.”

Marco instinctively pulled his left cuff down over his wrist.

It was a small movement.

But in Luca’s world, small movements were everything.

“Show me your wrist, Marco,” Luca ordered.

Elena grabbed her husband’s arm. “Marco, what is she talking about? Where were you on Tuesday?”

“Elena, please,” Marco choked out.

Luca reached down, grabbed Marco’s wrist, and yanked his sleeve up.

The silver watch with a cracked glass face caught the light of the chandelier.

Elena covered her mouth, a broken sob escaping her lips.

Vanessa backed away until she hit the edge of the dining table. The arrogant, untouchable fiancée was suddenly looking like a trapped animal.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Vanessa said frantically.

“Then tell me what it looks like,” Luca replied, his voice dropping to a dangerous, lethal register.

Marco looked up at Luca. His eyes were wide with genuine terror.

“She promised me, Luca,” Marco whispered, his voice cracking. “She promised if I helped her, she’d make sure my family’s debts were wiped clean.”

The room shifted.

The affair wasn’t romantic.

It was transactional.

“Helped her do what?” Luca demanded.

Marco’s eyes darted toward Vanessa. She shook her head—a desperate, frantic warning.

Marco reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. His hands were shaking violently.

He pulled out a folded, glossy photograph and placed it face-down on the table.

“She needed the security codes for the private vault downtown,” Marco confessed, tears spilling over his eyelashes. “I gave them to her Tuesday night.”

Luca stared at his best friend.

“You sold me out to my fiancée.”

“I didn’t want to!” Marco cried. “But she found out about the money I embezzled. She blackmailed me!”

Luca slowly picked up the photograph.

He turned it over.

I watched the blood drain from the mafia boss’s face.

Whatever was in that picture hit him harder than the betrayal of his best friend.

Luca looked at Vanessa.

“Who gave you this?” he whispered.

Vanessa didn’t answer. She bolted for the dining room doors.

“Daniel!” Luca roared.

Two massive security guards stepped in front of the doors, blocking Vanessa’s escape.

Luca walked slowly back to the head of the table. He didn’t look at Marco. He looked at me.

He placed the photograph on the table so I could see it.

It was a picture of a small, rustic cabin in the woods. Standing on the porch was a woman holding a little boy.

The woman was Vanessa.

But the boy…

“Hannah,” Luca said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “Have you ever seen this cabin before?”

My breath caught in my throat.

I knew that cabin.

Because my father used to take me there when I was a child.

TITLE: The Cabin At The Edge Of The Woods

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