Six days after giving birth to our daughter, my husband walked out of our house to celebrate his mistress's birthday. He promised he'd be home before nine, but hours later, I was still alone with our newborn when a voicemail from an unknown number appeared on my phone. By the time Roman Moretti finally came home, the nursery was empty—and the most feared mafia boss in Milwaukee was about to discover what it felt like to lose everything.

I backed away from the door and pressed Sophie against my shoulder.

"Mrs. Moretti?" the guard called again. "I need to check the baby."

His voice sounded calm.

That was the worst part.

I remembered Roman introducing him at the hospital. His name was Victor Shaw, and he had served the Moretti family for nearly ten years.

Roman trusted him.

I'd watched Victor carry my husband's briefcase, open car doors, and stand silently behind him at family dinners.

Now he was outside my daughter's nursery, leaving blood on the floor.

"Go away," I called.

A pause.

Then Victor laughed softly.

"You really should listen to your husband."

"My husband isn't here."

"That's exactly why I'm here."

The doorknob turned.

I had locked it, but the old wooden frame trembled beneath his weight.

I grabbed my phone and called emergency services. Before I could finish giving the address, Victor slammed his shoulder against the door.

The frame cracked.

I ran toward the connecting bathroom, carrying Sophie and the emergency bag I'd packed during my pregnancy. There was a small window above the bathtub, too narrow for me to climb through comfortably, but large enough to pass a baby into the enclosed garden outside.

Another crash shook the nursery.

"Open the door, Aaron!"

I placed Sophie inside her carrier and lowered it carefully onto the bathroom floor.

Then the nursery door burst open.

Victor's footsteps crossed the room.

"Where are you?"

I held my breath.

He entered the bathroom.

For one terrible second, his eyes met mine.

Then he looked at the carrier.

"Give me the baby."

"No."

His expression hardened.

"You have no idea what you're protecting her from."

"Then explain it."

He reached toward the carrier.

I swung the bathroom lamp at his head.

The impact sent him stumbling into the sink. I seized the carrier, pushed through the narrow window, and climbed onto the wet garden path, scraping my arms against the frame.

Behind me, Victor roared.

I ran toward the side gate.

A car screeched around the corner just as I reached it.

Daniel jumped out.

"Get in!"

I barely made it into the passenger seat before he accelerated. We turned onto the main road as Victor appeared in the garden doorway, one hand pressed against his bleeding forehead.

Daniel glanced at me.

"Did you see his face?"

"Yes."

"Did he say anything?"

I told him about Roman, Laya, and the warning.

Daniel's knuckles whitened around the steering wheel.

Then he said, "Aaron, Victor isn't working for Laya."

"Who is he working for?"

My brother looked at me with an expression I'd never seen before.

"Your husband."

I shook my head.