THE POOR MAID ACTIVATED A HUNDRED-YEAR-OLD SECRET—AND THE MAFIA KING ORDERED EVERY DOOR LOCKED

Dante pushed me behind the heavy wooden cabinet as another shot struck the wall.

Margaret crawled toward the staircase, shouting for us to follow.

The three men outside spread across the harbor yard, using the parked vehicles for cover.

Dante drew his weapon.

"Stay down."

"I'm not leaving Margaret."

"Clara, this is not the time to argue."

"Then stop giving me reasons."

He stared at me for one furious second before reaching for his phone.

The call wouldn't connect.

The attackers had jammed the local signal.

We were alone.

Margaret opened a narrow panel beneath the stairs.

"There's a tunnel. It leads to the old boathouse."

Dante checked the doorway.

"Can you walk?"

"I've been walking these stairs for sixty years," she snapped. "Move."

We descended into a stone passage that smelled of salt and damp earth. Margaret carried a lantern while Dante guarded the rear.

Halfway through, a gunshot echoed behind us.

Margaret stumbled.

I caught her arm.

"Are you hurt?"

"No. Just old."

She continued down the passage.

We emerged into a boathouse beside the harbor. A small motorboat rested beneath a canvas cover.

Margaret tossed Dante the keys.

"Take her to the mainland."

"What about you?"

"I'll go through the other entrance. The men know I'm here. They won't stop until they find the girl."

"I'm not leaving you."

Margaret's eyes softened.

"Your mother said the same thing when she was twenty-four. I told her then what I'm telling you now: courage isn't always standing your ground. Sometimes it's surviving long enough to fight again."

She pressed a second key into my hand.

"Use this at the shipping terminal. Whatever happens, do not let Adrian take the ledger."

I hugged her before I could think better of it.

Then Dante and I climbed into the boat.

We crossed the harbor under heavy rain, keeping low beneath the windshield. The attackers' vehicle lights swept across the water behind us, but the darkness concealed our route.

When we reached the opposite shore, Dante contacted his security team.

Rebecca answered immediately.

"Where have you been? Someone has been trying to access the old terminal, and your legal department just received a death certificate claiming you are no longer authorized to control the estate."

Dante stared at his phone.

"What?"

"Your father apparently filed a supplementary document before his death. It names Adrian as the temporary guardian of the family assets if you become incapacitated or unavailable."

"That document was never shown to me."

"Because it was sealed."

I felt a chill.

"Someone is trying to remove you."

"Someone is trying to remove both of us," Dante replied.

We drove toward the shipping terminal.

The building stood near the waterfront, surrounded by warehouses and rusted cranes. It had been abandoned for years, but security lights glowed along the roof.

Dante parked behind a container.

"Stay here while I check the entrance."

"No."

He exhaled sharply.

"Clara, there are armed men inside."

"And the key is in my hand. You need me."

He hated that I was right.

We entered through a side door and descended a staircase into the old records basement.

At the end of a narrow corridor stood a steel vault with three circular locks.

The first bore the Moretti family crest.

The second was shaped like a rose.

The third had a small indentation for a key.