"Close the gates."

Luca Moretti’s voice didn’t echo. It didn’t need to. It was spoken with the quiet, devastating authority of a man who was entirely used to being obeyed.

"Nobody leaves this house until my mother tells me what happened."

Patricia’s face drained of all color. The haughty, dismissive woman who had mocked my cheap coat just hours ago suddenly looked like a cornered animal. She took a step backward, her heels clicking frantically against the hardwood floor.

"Mr. Moretti, please," she stammered, raising her hands. "You can’t believe this. She’s not well. The doctors said her mind would start projecting her grief onto the staff. I’ve only ever tried to protect you!"

Luca didn’t look at her. He didn’t even acknowledge she was speaking. His dark eyes remained fixed on his mother, who was still clutching my sleeve with a grip so tight my fingers were going numb.

Down the hallway, the heavy sound of the mansion’s front doors locking echoed through the silence, followed by the muffled voices of security guards executing Luca’s command. We were sealed in.

I knelt closer to Eleanor, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Tell him, I signed slowly, making sure my hands were perfectly clear. Tell him the truth.

Eleanor’s chest heaved. She looked at her son, taking in the sight of him as if she hadn’t truly seen him in years. Then, she raised her hands.

Her fingers trembled, fighting through the stiffness of disuse, but her message was unmistakable.

She kept me in this room, I translated, my voice barely above a whisper, yet it felt deafening in the massive bedroom. She told me you were ashamed of a crippled mother. She told me you ordered the staff not to let me out.

Luca closed his eyes. A muscle feathered along his jawline. When he opened them again, the raw devastation in his gaze made my chest ache. He had brought her white roses every single week. He had stood outside this door, believing his mother couldn’t bear to look at him.

"Why?" Luca asked. His voice cracked, stripping away the intimidating aura of the billionaire boss and leaving only a heartbroken son. "Why would you do this to us, Patricia?"

Patricia backed up until her shoulders hit the doorframe. "Because you were going to give her the estate! Your father left everything in a trust, Luca. If she spoke to you, if she told you where the original ledger was, you would have ruined all of the offshore accounts. I did it for the family's survival!"

"You did it for your own pockets," Luca corrected, his tone turning to ice. He pulled a radio from his belt. "Get Patricia out of my sight. Lock her in the study until I decide what to do with her."

Two massive men in dark suits appeared instantly, dragging a weeping, screaming Patricia down the hall.

The silence that followed was heavy. Luca slowly walked toward the wheelchair and dropped to his knees right beside me. He didn't care about his expensive suit. He gently took his mother’s frail, shaking hands in his own.

"I'm here, Mom," he whispered, pressing his forehead against her knuckles. "I'm so sorry. I'm right here."

Eleanor let out a broken, silent sob and rested her head against his hair.

I started to back away to give them privacy, but Eleanor immediately reached out and grabbed my wrist again. She wasn't finished.

She pointed to the folded piece of paper still clutched in Luca’s hand. The list of seven names.

Translate, she signed to me, her eyes suddenly wild with urgency.

"She wants you to look at the list," I told Luca.

Luca unfolded the paper. "I know the first six names. They’re staff. Maids, nurses who quit suddenly. But the seventh name…" He looked up, his brow furrowing. "Vincent Rossi. My underboss. Why is Vincent on this list, Mom?"

Eleanor didn’t look at Luca. She looked at me.

She reached into the pocket of her cardigan and pulled out a heavy, tarnished silver rosary. But it wasn't just a rosary. Attached to the crucifix was a small, distinct silver charm shaped like a swallow in flight.

My breath caught in my throat. I instinctively reached up and touched my own neck, where an identical silver swallow rested against my collarbone. It was the only thing I had left of my late husband, Mark.

"Where did you get that?" I whispered, my voice trembling.

Eleanor placed the rosary into my palm.

Vincent dropped it in this room, she signed, her eyes locked onto mine. Two years ago. On the night my husband died.

I shook my head, confusion and panic flooding my veins. "I don't understand. My husband gave this to me. He died in a car accident four years ago. It has nothing to do with your family."

Eleanor’s hands moved with terrifying precision.

He didn't die in an accident. And he didn't leave you by choice.

She pointed a trembling finger at the door.

Vincent Rossi killed my husband. And he killed yours. And tonight, he is coming back to finish silencing the only people who know.

Before anyone could process the weight of her words, a deafening crash echoed from downstairs. The security alarms blared, a piercing, mechanical shriek that made the floorboards vibrate.

May you like

The Mafia Boss Had Refused Every Woman for Five Years Until His Exhauste…

Five minutes after our divorce, I boarded a flight overseas with our two…

Graham went pale before I said a word. He recognized the envelope in my…

Luca’s radio crackled wildly.

"Boss! The front gates have been breached. We have multiple armed vehicles in the driveway. It’s Vincent."