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

We met Teresa at a twenty-four-hour diner near O'Hare because, according to her, Salvatore had people watching every elegant restaurant in the city but would never imagine her eating pancakes under fluorescent lights.

She arrived without jewelry.

For the first time, she looked less like Aunt Teresa and more like a tired mother.

I placed my mother's sealed letter on the table.

Her hands began to shake before she opened it.

Ruth had written only one page.

Teresa,

You were right to be afraid of Salvatore. You were wrong to let that fear turn Stefano into the villain because it hurt less than admitting your husband destroyed your daughter. Paula loved her brother. She told me so herself. If you want to honor her, stop helping the men who taught you fear.

Teresa read the last line three times.

Then she covered her face.

"I thought Stefano gave them Paula's address."

"I did," Stefano said.

She looked at him with naked hatred.

"Once," he continued. "Years before she died. I thought our father only wanted to bring her home. Paula escaped again. I have hated myself for it every day since. But I did not order her death."

Teresa looked at me.

"And you believe him?"

"I believe Paula."

That broke her.

She cried silently for almost a minute, then wiped her face and became useful.

Salvatore was hiding at the original Moretti estate outside Lake Forest. The mansion had service tunnels, a panic room, and an old wine cellar with a second exit through the greenhouse.

"Vincent plans to kill him," Teresa said.

Stefano frowned. "Why?"

"Because the federal raids changed the math. Vincent thinks if Salvatore dies, he can blame everything on a dead man for real this time."

"And Salvatore?"

"Plans to kill Vincent first."

I stared at her. "So we're walking into a family reunion with competing murder schedules."

Teresa almost smiled. "Ruth would have liked you now."

"She liked me before."

"Not as much as she worried about you."

We built a plan that did not depend on trusting Teresa completely.

Copies of the ledger and tape were scheduled to be released publicly if we missed a check-in. Federal agents were given the address, though they warned they needed time to assemble a team.

Stefano's people would stay outside the property unless called. Too many armed men would start exactly the war Salvatore wanted.

At four-thirty, Teresa drove us through the rear gate.

I wore the red dress.

Stefano wore black.

"You realize," I said as the mansion appeared through the trees, "this is a terrible first date."

He looked at me.

"I thought the birthday party was the first date."

"You threatened two men in a church."

"You served supermarket cake. We both made choices."

I laughed.

Then the gates locked behind us.

A voice came over the car speakers.