The mafia boss’s deadly Cane Corso obeyed only one man for years, so why did he suddenly abandon him to protect a trembling maid?

That fact wounded him more than any bullet could have.

Evelyn saw it in the rigid angle of his shoulders, the way his hand lowered slowly from the doorframe, the way he forced himself to step back when every instinct in him wanted to break down the wall between himself and the impossible little girl.

“It is all right,” Evelyn said softly. “No one is coming closer.”

The child’s eye remained in the narrow gap. “Where is Calvin?”

Gabriel’s voice turned lethal. “He is downstairs.”

The girl disappeared from the crack.

Evelyn shot him a look. “Not helpful.”

He swallowed whatever response came to mind.

Evelyn crouched, ignoring the sting in her palm. “My name is Evelyn. This is Titan. He is very wet and very dramatic.”

A pause.

“He smells like lemons,” the girl whispered.

“Yes. That was my fault.”

Another pause. Then, very quietly, “Did he bite you?”

“No.”

“Calvin said he bites everyone.”

“Calvin says many things.”

The child opened the door another inch.

Evelyn could see more of her now: dark hair tangled around a small face, gray eyes too large from hunger or fear, a sweater several sizes too big, bare feet on freezing hardwood.

The sight struck Evelyn low in the chest.

She had seen neglected animals with that same careful stillness. Not calm. Calculation. The posture of a living thing that had learned sudden movement invited pain.

“What is your name?” Evelyn asked.

The girl hesitated. “Sofia.”

Rosa made a strangled sound behind them.

Gabriel closed his eyes.

Vanessa said, “No.”

Everyone turned.

She stood halfway down the corridor in a white silk robe, her face pale but composed. Too composed. Victor was behind her, his expression unreadable.

“There is no Sofia,” Vanessa said. “Lucia’s baby died with her.”

The child jerked at the name Lucia.

Evelyn noticed.

Gabriel did too.

He stepped toward Vanessa. “How do you know what happened to Lucia’s baby?”

Vanessa’s mouth parted. “Everyone knows.”

“No,” Gabriel said. “Everyone was told.”

The temperature of the corridor seemed to drop.

Victor moved slightly, placing himself where he could watch both Gabriel and the child’s door.

Titan saw the movement. His growl returned.

Evelyn kept her eyes on Sofia. “Do you want Titan to come in first?”

The girl nodded.

Gabriel looked as though someone had twisted a knife in him, but he said nothing.

Evelyn touched Titan’s shoulder. “Slow.”

The massive dog lowered his head and moved through the narrow doorway with heartbreaking gentleness. Sofia’s small hand appeared and rested on his wet fur. She buried her face against him.

“He came back,” she whispered.

Gabriel’s control cracked.

Not loudly. Not dramatically. But Evelyn heard the breath leave him.

Sofia looked up at the sound and shrank away.

Evelyn immediately lifted a hand toward Gabriel. Stop.

He stopped.

A mafia boss, rumored feared man, owner of half the county’s secrets, stopped because a maid with a bleeding palm raised her hand.

The absurdity of it might have been funny in another life.

“Has she been here all this time?” Evelyn asked.

No one answered.

Rosa began to cry silently.

Gabriel looked at her. “Rosa.”

“I did not know,” she whispered. “I swear on my son’s grave, I did not know. After Miss Lucia died, Mr. Victor said the east wing was condemned. We were told no one was to enter. Calvin brought Titan here sometimes, but I thought—God forgive me—I thought he was training him in the old rooms.”

Evelyn’s eyes moved to Victor.

Victor’s face revealed nothing.

Gabriel’s did.

“You controlled access,” Gabriel said to him.

Victor held his gaze. “I controlled security under your orders.”

“My orders were to seal my sister’s room. Not turn it into a cage.”

“That child could be anyone.”

Sofia’s voice came from inside. “I have Mama’s necklace.”

The corridor froze.

A small hand reached out.

In her palm lay a silver pendant shaped like a crescent moon.

Gabriel stared at it.

Then he reached inside his shirt and pulled out a broken chain. On it hung the other half of the same moon.

Vanessa stepped back.

Evelyn watched her.

There it was. Not shock. Not grief.

Fear.

Gabriel’s voice became dangerously soft. “Where did you get that?”

Sofia whispered, “Mama put it in my sock before the car went into the lake.”

Rosa sobbed.

Gabriel leaned one hand against the wall.

For twelve years, he had believed his younger sister Lucia died in a winter accident with her infant daughter. For twelve years, a child had grown inside his mansion like a secret buried alive.

“Who fed you?” Evelyn asked.

Sofia looked toward the hallway.

Everyone followed her gaze.

Calvin Pike stood at the far end of the corridor.

He was holding a leash.