I took three bullets saving the mafia boss’s six-year-old son—and when I woke up, his “reward” was five terrifying words: “You’re going to be my wife.”

Barely.

The bullet passed through her side and missed anything vital by what the surgeon called a miracle and Victor called suspicious luck.

He moved her to the estate because the hospital was no longer safe. Which meant, by midnight, Victor Romano had two wives under one roof.

One legal.

One resurrected.

Both wounded.

Facebook would have loved it.

I did not.

Alessia was placed in the west wing medical suite. I remained in the east. Adriana stayed between us like a ghost with red eyes. Leo was not told. Not yet.

That decision nearly tore the house apart.

“She is his mother,” Adriana hissed in Victor’s study.

“She is also bait,” Victor replied.

“She bled saving me.”

“And someone shot at her in public ten minutes after she revealed herself. Until I know who staged this, Leo stays away.”

I stood near the fireplace, leaning on my cane.

“What does Alessia want?”

Both Romanos looked at me.

It was amazing how often powerful people forgot to ask the living woman in the room what she wanted.

Victor’s expression tightened.

“She wants to see Leo.”

“Of course she does.”

“She also wants protection.”

“From whom?”

Victor looked at Adriana.

Neither answered.

“From whom?” I repeated.

Adriana sank into a chair.

“The Bellantis.”

I knew the name. Everyone in Chicago knew it if they knew where not to walk after dark. The Bellanti family had controlled the West Side until Victor crushed them three years ago. Rumor said their heir, Matteo Bellanti, vanished after trying to challenge Victor’s authority.

Apparently, rumors were useless.

“Matteo Bellanti is alive,” Victor said. “And Alessia says he kept her hidden.”

A cold thought formed.

“Hidden, or imprisoned?”

Victor’s jaw clenched.

“She won’t say.”

“She might not trust you enough.”

His eyes flicked to mine.

Fair.

At two in the morning, I went to Alessia’s room.

The guards tried to stop me. I reminded them I was technically their boss’s wife. They looked deeply unhappy about that, but they moved.

Alessia lay propped against pillows, pale but awake. Without makeup and vengeance, she looked younger than the portrait. More human. More exhausted.

“You walk like you should be in bed,” she said.

“You talk like you shouldn’t be alive.”

A faint smile touched her mouth.

“I see why Leo likes you.”

The sound of his name softened the room.

I sat carefully in the chair beside her.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

Then she said, “Does he still sleep with one hand under his cheek?”

My throat tightened.

“Yes.”

“Does he still hate carrots?”

“Deeply.”

“Does he remember me?”

I looked at her.

“He touches your photograph when he misses you.”

Alessia closed her eyes.

A tear slid into her hair.

Whatever else she was, whatever secrets she carried, that tear was real.

“I didn’t abandon him,” she whispered.

“I believe you.”

Her eyes opened.

“You shouldn’t. You don’t know me.”

“I know what it looks like when someone loves Leo.”

She stared at me for a long moment.

Then she laughed once, bitterly.

“Victor married well by accident.”

“He didn’t marry well. He married desperately.”

“That sounds more like him.”

I leaned back, pain pulsing through my ribs.

“Who called me?”

Alessia’s smile faded.

“A woman named Serafina Bellanti. Matteo’s sister. She likes games.”

“Did she stage the attack?”

“Which one?”

Fair question.

“The sunroom.”

Alessia looked toward the window.

“No.”

That answer chilled me.

“Then who?”

“I don’t know. But Matteo wanted Leo alive.”

“Why?”

Her face closed.

“Ask Victor what his father promised before he died.”

I almost laughed.

“Everyone keeps telling me to ask Victor things he won’t answer.”

“Then stop asking.”

She turned her head and looked at me fully.

“Find the black ledger.”

“What black ledger?”

“The one Alessia Romano died trying to steal.”

The words crawled down my spine.

“You had it?”

“No,” she whispered. “Leo did.”

I stopped breathing.

“He was three. He didn’t know what it was. He took it from Victor’s office because it had a gold lion on the cover. I hid it in the only place Victor would never search.”

“Where?”

Her eyes lifted to mine.

“My room.”

My room.

Alessia’s room.

The east wing.

Before I could speak, alarms exploded through the house.

Red lights flashed across the ceiling.

A guard shouted in the hall.

I forced myself upright.

Victor’s voice roared from somewhere below.

“Where is Leo?”