I didn’t stop running until we hit the cold concrete of the underground garage.

I threw Sophie into the backseat of the armored SUV and locked the doors.

My hands were shaking so violently I could barely breathe.

Upstairs, the gunfire had abruptly stopped.

Silence is far more terrifying than noise.

I stood by the driver's side door, clutching the heavy velvet box Marcus had dropped into my pocket.

Sophie watched me through the bulletproof glass, her eyes wide.

I opened the box.

Inside wasn’t jewelry.

It was a folded, notarized document.

The original adoption papers.

I scanned the names quickly.

Adoptive Mother: Sarah Moretti.

Adoptive Father: Luca Moretti.

Biological Mother…

My heart stopped.

The name on the line was Elena Dawson.

My older sister.

The sister who had died of leukemia ten years ago, right after giving birth to a baby girl she gave up for a closed adoption.

I dropped the paper.

I looked through the glass at Sophie.

Her green eyes. The slight tilt of her chin.

She wasn’t just a little girl I cared for.

She was my niece.

The garage door suddenly banged open.

I spun around, grabbing a heavy wrench from the workbench behind me.

Footsteps echoed on the concrete.

Then, Luca walked out of the shadows.

His suit was torn, his knuckles bloodied, but he was alone.

The Bellini threat was neutralized.

He saw me standing there, clutching the velvet box.

He walked over slowly, his eyes dropping to the paper in my trembling hands.

“You read it,” he said quietly.

I looked up at him, tears blurring my vision.

“You knew?” I whispered.

Luca nodded.

“Sarah chose your sister. When we needed a nanny, I tracked you down. I wanted Sophie to have her real family near her.”

He reached out and gently took the wrench from my hand.

“I never told you because I didn’t want to overwhelm you. I just wanted you in our lives.”

He looked at the SUV, where Sophie was pressing her hands against the glass.

Then, he pulled a small, delicate object from his pocket.

A beaded bracelet.