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

The West Wing of the Caruso mansion was strictly off-limits to the general staff. It was a shadowy corridor lined with dark oak panels and expensive, gloomy oil paintings of old Italian landscapes.

Sloan walked down the hall, carrying her cleaning caddy, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs.

Fallon Caruso’s study was at the very end. She turned the brass knob, surprised to find it unlocked. Pushing the heavy door open, she stepped into a room that smelled heavily of rich leather, expensive cigars, and dangerous secrets.

The room was massive. A mahogany desk dominated the center, covered in neat stacks of manila folders.

Sloan began to dust the bookshelves mechanically, her mind racing. Why had Fallon sent her here? Was it a test? Was he punishing her for talking back to his daughter?

As she moved a heavy bronze statue to wipe beneath it, she noticed something strange.

Behind the desk, a large oil painting hung slightly crooked on the wall. Sloan frowned and walked over to straighten it. As her fingers brushed the heavy gilded frame, the painting swung outward on hidden hinges.

Sloan gasped, taking a step back.

Hidden behind the painting was a steel wall safe. But what made her breath hitch in her throat was that the heavy metal door wasn't closed. It was cracked open, just an inch.

Someone—maybe Fallon’s nervous, sweaty accountant who had rushed out of the house an hour ago—had made a fatal mistake. They had forgotten to spin the dial.

Sloan looked over her shoulder at the closed study door. The house was dead quiet. She knew she should walk away. If she was caught looking inside a mafia boss’s private safe, she wouldn't just be fired. She would disappear. People who crossed Fallon Caruso ended up at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean.