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.

Margaret met us in a coffee shop outside the city, arriving with a leather folder and two security officers who remained near the entrance.

She looked exhausted.

"The boy's name was Nicholas," she explained. "He was born prematurely. Laya claimed he died within hours, but the hospital records show that he was transferred to another facility."

"Why would she hide her own child?" I asked.

"She may not have known he survived."

Daniel opened the folder.

Inside were medical invoices, altered birth records, and a photograph of a newborn wearing a silver bracelet identical to the one in my bag.

The letter R stood out against the infant's wrist.

"Who paid for the transfer?" Daniel asked.

Margaret pointed to a company registered in Delaware.

"An organization connected to Roman's father."

Roman's father had died when Roman was twenty-four. His death had left Roman in control of the family's operations, but stories about the older Moretti had never made sense to me. People described him as ruthless, calculating, and obsessed with bloodlines.

"Why would his father be involved in Laya's baby?" I asked.

Margaret hesitated.

"Because Nicholas may have been the intended heir."

I stared at her.

"Roman has no legitimate son."

"That was the problem. Before Sophie was born, Roman's father had arranged for the organization to pass to Nicholas if Roman failed to produce a male heir."

"Roman's father has been dead for years."

"His legal documents remain in force. And someone recently attempted to activate the succession clause."

Daniel closed the folder.

"Who?"

Margaret looked directly at me.

"Laya."

A chill moved through my body.

If Nicholas was alive, Laya could use him to challenge Roman's control of the organization. Sophie, meanwhile, represented something even more dangerous: Roman's first legitimate child and the person who could complicate the succession dispute.

But why would Roman order his own daughter's removal?

Unless he believed she wasn't his.

Or unless the DNA report was a cover for something else.

Margaret leaned closer.

"There is one more thing. The nurse who contacted me left a message saying the children were being moved tonight."

"Both children?"

She nodded.

"Sophie and Nicholas."

I felt sick.

"Where?"

Margaret slid a photograph across the table.

A private estate on the outskirts of Milwaukee.