My Birthday Invite Went to the Wrong Number—Then the Mafia Boss Walked In

Dead men do not order murders.

Unless everyone is wrong about when they died.

Stefano told me his father, Salvatore Moretti, supposedly died in a private hospital after a stroke. The funeral had a closed casket. Stefano identified the body, but only after it had been badly damaged in what doctors called a postmortem equipment fire.

"You believed that?" I asked.

"I wanted to."

"That's not the same thing."

"No."

After Salvatore's death, Vincent became indispensable. He helped Stefano consolidate businesses, calm rival crews, and shut down the most violent operations.

"I thought I was cleaning up what my father built," Stefano said. "Maybe I was only making it easier for him to hide."

Paula's tape said Salvatore was alive years after his funeral and using Vincent as his public hand.

"So Paula found him," I said.

"Or proof of him."

"And your mother? Teresa?"

"If she knew, she never told me."

I paced the hospital room.

"Then we have three enemies. Vincent, Teresa, and possibly a dead man. Excellent."

Stefano's mouth twitched.

"You handle stress strangely."

"I teach eighth grade. Criminal conspiracies have clearer rules."

That made him laugh, and for one dangerous second the room softened.

Then he reached for my hand.

I let him take it.

"I have a rule," he said.

"Of course you do."

"People near me get told the truth when the truth can keep them alive."

I raised an eyebrow. "You kept Paula's letters for eight years."

"It is a newer rule."

"Needs work."

His thumb moved once across my knuckles.

"Nora, there is something else. When you texted Paula's old number, I thought it was a trap. That number had been disconnected for years. Three months ago, it was reactivated under one of my companies without my authorization."

"By Vincent?"

"Probably."

"Then why did you answer?"

"Because your message used Paula's name and St. Bridget's. And because you wrote there would be cake even if it was only you."

I looked at him.

"That was enough?"

"It sounded like something Paula would have gone to."

I blinked hard.

"And the red dress?"

His eyes held mine.

"Paula once wrote that your mother hid important things in ordinary places. I wanted to see whether you would understand a clue I barely understood myself."

"So you guessed."

"Yes."

"That was reckless."

"Also a newer rule. I am trying to reduce that."

I laughed despite everything.

Then Marco entered without knocking.

"Boss, federal agents just raided two Caruso properties."

"Good."

"Not entirely."

He handed Stefano a tablet.

On the screen was security footage from one of the raids.

A white-haired man stepped out a back door twenty seconds before agents arrived.