THE MAFIA BOSS SAW HIS MAID COLLAPSE IN FEAR—THEN DISCOVERED WHO HAD BROKEN HER

The memory card was hidden inside the lining of an old coat stored in a rented locker outside the city.

I had paid the rent in cash for three years.

Nobody knew about it.

At least, nobody should have.

Roman insisted on sending Dominic with me, but I refused to enter the car until he promised that no one would touch my belongings without my permission.

"You have my word," he said.

"Your word doesn't mean much to someone who has never trusted a powerful man."

His jaw tightened.

"Then judge me by what I do next."

The locker facility stood beside a deserted highway, surrounded by chain-link fencing and neglected weeds. Dominic checked the entrance while I unlocked the metal door.

The coat was still there.

I reached inside the torn lining and found the tiny plastic case.

Then I saw the note.

It had been pushed beneath the coat, folded twice.

My name appeared on the outside.

Nora.

My hands went cold.

I opened it.

You should have stayed where you belonged.

Dominic drew his weapon.

"Get behind me."

A car engine roared outside.

Through the narrow opening between the lockers, I saw a black sedan accelerate toward the exit. Dominic shouted into his radio, but the vehicle disappeared onto the highway.

Roman arrived ten minutes later.

He read the note and stared at the empty road.

"Someone knew we were coming."

"Perhaps you have a leak."

"Perhaps," he replied.

He didn't dismiss the possibility.

That mattered.

Back at Blackmere House, we gathered in a secured room beneath the west wing. Roman's technical specialist connected the memory card to an isolated computer.

The recording was damaged, but the audio remained intact.

First came Victor's voice.

Then another man spoke.

Richard Blackmere.

I heard the man who had raised me from childhood, the man who had promised my mother he would protect me, speaking about stolen funds, falsified records, and a warehouse employee who had threatened to expose them.

Then Richard said something that made Roman grip the edge of the desk.

"If the bookkeeper talks, make certain he never gets the chance to testify."

Victor replied, "And your son?"

"Roman will inherit what remains. He doesn't need to know how it was acquired."

The recording ended.

Nobody spoke.

Roman looked as if someone had driven a blade between his ribs.

"My father ordered a murder."

I wanted to tell him that the recording might have been manipulated, but I had heard the certainty in Richard's voice. I had spent years listening to Victor lie. I knew the difference between a man inventing a story and a man describing something he had already done.

Dominic broke the silence.

"We need to verify the recording before anyone acts on it."

Roman nodded slowly.

"Find the bookkeeper's family. Find the original warehouse reports. Find every account connected to those transfers."

"And Sloane?" Dominic asked.

Roman looked at me.

"Victor knows the recording exists. If he believes Nora has the only copy, he'll come for her."

I wrapped my arms around myself.

"I never wanted to hurt your family."

Roman's expression changed.

For one brief moment, he looked less like a mafia boss and more like a son who had just discovered that everything he believed about his father was false.

"You didn't create this, Nora."

"But I brought it here."

"No." He stepped away from the desk. "You survived it. There's a difference."

Later that night, I returned to my room and found the door open.

My belongings had been disturbed.

The mattress was overturned. My clothes lay across the floor.

And on my pillow rested a silver ring.

Victor's ring.

Beneath it was a note.