The crystal chandeliers seemed to sway above me as I stared at the signature on the legal document.

Arthur Reed.

It was undeniably my father’s handwriting. The sharp, slightly slanted loops were identical to the signatures on the countless overdue bills stacked on our kitchen counter at home.

“That’s impossible,” I whispered, stepping back. “My father doesn’t know her. He’s a retired accountant. He’s never mentioned a boy named Leo. He’s never taken in a child.”

“Are you sure about that, Emma?” Luca asked softly, his eyes searching my face.

I opened my mouth to defend my family, but the words died in my throat.

A memory slammed into me.

Three years ago. My father had lost his prestigious accounting firm in a sudden, brutal bankruptcy. We had lost our family home. We had moved into the cramped, rundown house we lived in now.

And right around that same time, my father had suffered a "nervous breakdown." He had locked himself in his home office for weeks. When he finally emerged, he was a different man—terrified, broken, and constantly looking over his shoulder.

But there had never been a child.

“There is no boy at my house, Mr. Moretti,” I said firmly, finding my voice. “I swear to you.”

Marcus stepped forward, his face pale. “If he’s not with your father… then where the hell is my son?”

Vanessa let out a sharp, cruel laugh.

She had backed herself into a corner, but instead of begging for mercy, she had crossed the line into sheer desperation.

“You’re all so stupid,” Vanessa spat, smoothing down the front of her red gown. “Do you really think I’d just hand over a child to some broken-down accountant without insurance?”

She glared at me.

“Your father owed money to the wrong people, Emma. I just… bought his debt. And in exchange, I told him to make my little problem disappear. If he didn’t have the stomach to take care of the boy, I’m sure he found a ditch somewhere to—”

Before she could finish the vile sentence, Margaret Bellini moved faster than I thought possible.

The elderly woman raised her hand and slapped her daughter across the face.

The sharp crack echoed through the dining room. Vanessa stumbled, holding her cheek in shock.

“You are a monster,” Margaret wept. “I carried you. I raised you. And you are a monster.”

Margaret turned to leave, her shoulders shaking. But as she turned, her cheap brown handbag slipped from her grasp. It hit the marble floor, spilling its contents.

Lipstick, tissues, a small coin purse.

And a heavy, tarnished silver bracelet.

The moment the bracelet hit the floor, time seemed to stop.

It was thick silver, engraved with ivy leaves, and missing a single small clasp.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move.

I dropped to my knees on the marble floor and picked it up. My hands were shaking so violently I nearly dropped it again.

“Emma?” Luca’s voice was right beside me. He had crouched down, his large presence suddenly shielding me from the stares of the guests. “What is it?”

“This…” I choked out, tears instantly blurring my vision. “This belonged to my mother.”

Luca frowned, looking at the jewelry. “Are you certain?”

“She never took it off,” I cried, clutching the cold metal to my chest. “She was wearing it the night she died in a hit-and-run accident three years ago. The police never found the driver. They returned her clothes, but they told us her jewelry had been stolen at the scene.”

I looked up at Margaret, who was staring at me with wide, terrified eyes.

“Mrs. Bellini,” I whispered. “Why do you have my dead mother’s bracelet?”

Margaret covered her mouth, a sob tearing from her throat. She looked at Vanessa, then back at me.

“I didn’t know it was hers, sweetheart,” Margaret cried. “I swear to you. I found it in Vanessa’s jewelry box two years ago.”

The silence in the room was deafening.

Luca slowly stood up. He didn’t look angry anymore. He looked like the ruthless, untouchable mafia boss the entire city feared.

He looked at Vanessa.

“Three years ago, Emma’s father signs a document taking custody of your hidden child,” Luca said, his voice echoing off the walls. “And that same year, Emma’s mother is killed in a hit-and-run, and you end up with her bracelet.”

Vanessa backed away, truly terrified for the first time all evening. “Luca, I can explain—”

“You’re not going to explain anything to me,” Luca said coldly.

He raised his hand.

Immediately, the heavy dining room doors closed. Four men in dark suits stepped out from the shadows of the hallway. Luca’s personal security.

“Take the guests home,” Luca ordered his men. “Take Mrs. Bellini to a guest suite and make sure she is comfortable. And lock Vanessa in the study. She doesn’t leave until I have the truth.”

As the room cleared out in panicked haste, Luca turned to me.

He reached down, gently taking my arm, and helped me to my feet. His touch was surprisingly warm, grounding me as my world spun out of control.

“Come with me,” Luca said quietly.

“Where are we going?” I asked, clutching my mother’s bracelet.

Luca looked at Marcus, who was staring at us with desperate hope.

“We are going to your father’s house,” Luca said. “Because I think Arthur Reed knows exactly who killed your mother.”