"A coat?" I whispered, my voice barely audible over the hum of the air conditioner in the orphanage hallway.

Luca didn't answer me. He gripped the phone tighter. "Daniel. Listen to me very carefully. Do not let Arthur's men leave that property. Detain them."

"They're armed, boss."

"So are you," Luca said coldly. "If they touch one item belonging to Megan, break their hands. I'm on my way back."

He hung up and turned to the nurse, who was trembling in the corner.

"Pack Isabella's things," Luca commanded. "She's leaving with us tonight."

"Sir, I can't just release a child—"

"I am Luca Moretti. That is my brother's child. If you try to stop me, I will buy this building and fire you before morning."

The nurse swallowed hard and rushed into the room.

Twenty minutes later, we were back in the car heading toward the airfield. Isabella was asleep in the backseat, wrapped in my cheap cardigan.

Luca drove in silence, his jaw set in stone.

"Mr. Moretti," I started tentatively.

"Luca," he corrected, his eyes fixed on the road.

"Luca... why are they looking for a coat?"

He finally glanced at me. "When Vanessa walked in on Mrs. Carter in the library, Mrs. Carter had the letter. She said she managed to slip the photograph into her pocket before Vanessa took the letter away."

"Right," I nodded, remembering the story.

"Mrs. Carter was wearing a wool coat when she came into the study to stop me from firing you," Luca explained. "But when you saw her in the library earlier that afternoon... what was she wearing?"

I thought back. The memory was sharp, burned into my mind because of the fear I had felt hiding behind the bookshelves.

"She was wearing her uniform," I realized, gasping softly. "The black and white uniform."

"Exactly," Luca said grimly. "She didn't put the coat on until she decided to leave the house."

"So... she didn't put the photograph in her pocket when Vanessa caught her," I reasoned, my brain working fast. "She put it somewhere else."

"She hid the real letter," Luca said. "And she let Vanessa take a fake one. Or a blank envelope. She bought herself time."

"And she hid the real letter in a coat," I finished, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. "But not her coat. Because she didn't have it on."

I stared at Luca in the dark car.

"Whose coat was in the library, Megan?" he asked softly.

My breath hitched.

"Mine."

I had draped my heavy winter coat over the back of the reading chair when I went in to dust the upper shelves. I had left it there when I ran out, terrified after Vanessa cut my face.

The letter—the real letter from Luca's mother—was in my coat pocket.

And Arthur's men were tearing my room apart looking for it.

"They won't find it in my room," I whispered, panic rising in my throat.

Luca looked at me sharply. "Why not?"

"Because it’s still in the library. I never went back to get it."

Luca stepped on the gas. The car surged forward into the night.

By the time the jet landed back in Chicago, it was past 3:00 AM.

The mansion was eerily quiet when we pulled through the front gates. Daniel met us at the door.

"I have Arthur's men in the cellar," Daniel said, his face bruised but triumphant. "They didn't find anything in her room."

"Take Isabella to my private suite," Luca ordered, handing the sleeping child to a trusted maid. "Do not leave her side."

He turned to me. "Let's go."

We walked quickly down the grand hallway toward the library. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.

The heavy mahogany doors were closed.

Luca pushed them open.

The room was dark, lit only by the moonlight filtering through the tall windows.

I looked toward the reading chair in the corner.

My heart leapt. The coat was still there.

I rushed forward, my hands shaking as I reached into the deep right pocket. My fingers brushed against thick, folded paper.

"I have it," I whispered, pulling it out.

It was a sealed envelope, aged and yellowing at the edges.

Before I could hand it to Luca, a soft click echoed through the quiet room.

The lights suddenly flicked on, blindingly bright.

I flinched, shielding my eyes.

Sitting behind Luca’s father’s desk, her red silk engagement gown now torn at the hem, was Vanessa.

And in her hand, pointed directly at my chest, was a small, silver revolver.

"Put it down, Megan," Vanessa said, her voice shaking but her eyes deadly cold.

Luca stepped instantly in front of me, shielding my body with his own.

"Vanessa," Luca said, his voice completely devoid of fear. "Put the gun down."

"I can't," she sobbed, a desperate, broken sound. "If Arthur doesn't get that letter, he'll kill her. He'll kill the little girl."

"Isabella is safe," Luca said evenly. "I have her."

Vanessa froze. The gun wavered. "You... you went to St. Jude's?"

"I did," Luca said, taking a slow step toward her. "I know about Arthur's blackmail. I know you've been protecting her."

Vanessa let out a choked cry, tears spilling over her perfect makeup.

"You don't understand, Luca," she wept, the gun lowering slightly. "Arthur forced me into this engagement. He said if I didn't marry you and convince you to transfer the estate to me, he would stop the payments. He would let the people who want that child dead find her."

"Who wants her dead?" I asked from behind Luca, my voice trembling.

Vanessa looked at me, her eyes filled with a grief so profound it stole my breath.

"The people who killed Matteo," she whispered.

Luca went perfectly still.

"Matteo died in an accident," he said, his voice hollow.

Vanessa shook her head, tears falling onto her silk gown. "It wasn't an accident, Luca. And his girlfriend didn't die with him."

She looked at the letter in my hand.

"Open it," Vanessa commanded, her voice suddenly hollow. "Look at what your mother left."

I looked at Luca. He nodded once.

My trembling fingers broke the wax seal. I pulled out a single sheet of paper.

But it wasn't a letter.

It was a birth certificate.

Mother: Elena Rostova.

Father: Matteo Moretti.

And wrapped inside the thick paper was a heavy, silver pocket watch.

"What is that?" Luca asked, staring at the watch.

"It's Arthur's," Vanessa whispered. "Your mother stole it from him before she died. The back of the watch is engraved. It's the combination to Arthur's private safe."

She looked at me, her eyes locking onto mine with desperate intensity.

"Elena Rostova didn't die in the crash," Vanessa said, her voice cracking. "Arthur kidnapped her. He's kept her locked away for six years."

My breath caught in my throat.

"Where?" Luca demanded.

Vanessa closed her eyes.

"In the basement of the house where you grew up."