Chapter 1

My mother and I were getting the estate ready for Thanksgiving dinner when word came that my father and my fiancé, Adrian Marchetti, had been killed.

The messenger, one of my father's trusted men, staggered through the door covered in blood.

"The Don and Mr. Marchetti were ambushed by the Ferraro family at the docks. The arms warehouse blew up... there's nothing left of either man."

He gasped for breath, his voice shaking.

"They've taken Matteo alive too. Their men have the estate surrounded, and they'll storm it before dawn!"

He had barely finished speaking when heavy gunfire broke out beyond the estate walls.

Through the window, I saw a line of black cars blocking both the front and back gates.

A few armed men stood guard outside the iron gate. There was no way out.

Every guard and every gun on the estate was gone.

My mother stood there for a long time, her brow furrowed, holding my father's wedding ring.

She had already sent Grandma, Lana, Annie, and Aunt Clara down to the basement to hide.

But my mother didn't go down with them.

She picked up the pistol the messenger had left and pressed a kiss to the wedding ring. Her eyes were completely dry.

"Your father and I have loved each other for 27 years, and we've never spent a Thanksgiving apart. If he really died at those docks, I'm going with him."

Then she reached up and stroked my hair.

"They won't get a single one of our secrets.

"Once I'm dead, the rest of you will be safe.

"My baby, get out of L.A. Go live an ordinary life."

The second I saw her raise the gun, I lunged for her.

But a shot rang out!

I was one step too late.

My mother fell into my arms, and blood from her temple soaked my hands.

Her body was still warm, but her fingers had already slipped out of my hand.

I held her tight. It felt as if someone had cut my chest wide open.

I pressed down hard on her wound. I knew I couldn't stop the bleeding, but I wouldn't let go.

My father was dead. My brother was a prisoner. My mother had died right in front of me, and Adrian was never coming back.

I gritted my teeth and took the gun from her hand. It was the only weapon we had left.

But the moment my fingers touched the grip, something inside the gun gave a soft click.

A second later, the gun went off, and a bullet tore through my chest. Blood gushed out and soaked the rose brooch pinned over my heart.

It was a 19th-century ruby brooch Adrian had won at a Sotheby's auction in London.

To get it, he'd skipped a Marchetti family meeting and gone to the auction himself, bidding until the very end.

He flew back to L.A. that same night and pinned it over my heart in the rose greenhouse where we'd first met.

"Serena Valenti, I don't want this to be just an arranged marriage. I want to marry you because I love you."

I threw my arms around him and answered without hesitation.

"Adrian, I love you too."

I'd never once doubted how he felt about me.

So when I heard he'd died at the docks, I seriously considered dying with him if I couldn't escape.

The smell of smoke drifted up from the basement.

Then a woman's scream tore down the hallway.

"Fire!

"Open the door! Open it now!"

Pressing a hand to my bleeding chest, I dragged myself toward the back door. It was the only exit the enemy wasn't covering.

But I'd only made it to the living room door when I heard laughter through the crack.

"The Don and Mr. Marchetti really spoil Ms. Celeste. She wanted to pull a prank, so they staged fake deaths, a kidnapping, and a siege on the estate. It's so convincing, it's like watching a Broadway show!"

Another guard laughed and poured himself a drink.

"When they come back tomorrow morning, they'll tell the Donna it was all a joke. Back from the dead, and a happy ending for everyone!"

I stared at the door.

So my father wasn't dead. Adrian wasn't dead. And the Ferraro family had never taken my brother.

The whole night had been a game my adopted sister, Celeste Valenti, staged for her own amusement.

I slammed my fist against the door and screamed with the last of my strength.

"Open the door!

"The basement's on fire! Grandma and Annie are still down there!"

For a moment, everything went quiet outside.

One of the guards hesitated. "Sounds like someone's yelling for help in there. Should we open it and check?"

The other one stopped him right away.

"Ms. Celeste said we don't open the door, no matter what we hear. If you go in and ruin her fun, how will you explain it to the Don and Mr. Marchetti tomorrow?"

"But there's a six-year-old kid in there."

"What could happen to a few women? Keep drinking."

Whiskey splashed into glasses. Poker chips clattered onto the table.

"Your turn. You in?"

"I'm in. All in."

They went back to their drinks and their Texas Hold'em.

Not one of them came to the door again.

I pounded on the door again and again until my knuckles were bloody.

"This isn't a joke! The basement is really on fire!

"Open the door!"

All I could hear outside was the shuffle of cards.

The screams from the basement grew faint.

And then they stopped.

Grandma, Lana, six-year-old Annie, and Aunt Clara were all down there.

Grandma had bad legs and could barely manage the stairs. Lana would have held Annie tight, the way she always did when something frightened them. Only an hour earlier, Annie had hugged my leg and asked when her daddy would be home. She said she was saving him the biggest slice of pumpkin pie.

Aunt Clara had only just opened the first bottle of the red wine she'd brought. She'd laughed and said no one could talk business tonight. The whole family had to sit down and finish this meal together.

Had they burned to death? Or had they suffocated before the flames reached them?

I couldn't let myself think about it.

I looked back at my mother.

She lay in a pool of blood, her eyes still open.

Tonight, we should have all been together for Thanksgiving.

I wanted to crawl back to my mother and close her eyes.

I reached out, but my hand fell to the floor before I could touch her.

I wasn't afraid to die.

I hated that we'd been caught in a death trap we never should have faced.

In the end, just like my mother, I breathed my last with my eyes still open.