"The Mafia Boss’s Daughter Made the Maid Crawl at Dinner—Then She Found the Ledger That Exposed His Wife’s Murder

That night, Sloan couldn't shake the terrifying memory of the black ledger. The initials D.M. kept burning in her mind. Who authorized the hit on Isabella Caruso?

Around midnight, when the mansion was finally silent, she snuck out of her quarters and crept back toward the West Wing. She had to know more. She had to find out if she could use this to free herself completely.

The study was locked this time. But Leo had taught her a trick earlier that day. She slid a thin, stiff piece of plastic into the doorframe, jimmying the latch until it clicked open.

She slipped inside and closed the door behind her, turning on a small penlight.

She went straight for the painting, swung it open, and felt a surge of relief—the accountant had been sloppy again, or perhaps Fallon had been in a rush. The safe dial wasn't fully reset. She turned it to the right, and the heavy door popped open.

Sloan pulled the black ledger out and placed it gently on the desk.

She flipped back to the entry from October 14th, 2018. As she traced the page, her finger caught on a slight bump. The heavy parchment paper was unusually thick.

Using her fingernail, Sloan carefully peeled back the edge of the page. It was a false backing.

Hidden between the thick layers of paper was a small, folded letter, yellowed with age.

Sloan unfolded it with trembling hands. It was written in elegant, feminine handwriting.

My Dearest Fallon,

If you are reading this, then I am dead. I know they are coming for me. Do not blame the rival families. Do not look across the city for my killer. The snake is in your own garden. Dante has been stealing from the family accounts for years. I found his books. He knows I know. He will kill me to silence me, and he will frame it as an accident. Trust no one. Avenge me.

Forever yours, Isabella.

Sloan gasped, dropping the letter onto the desk as if it burned her fingers.