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PROLOGUE: GLORIA

There once was a little girl with bright eyes, fiery red hair, and a million questions on her mind. She was smart and clever and knew better than to ask why Mother moved them to a new town every few months.

Why they had strict rules about their names.

That was normal and it was their adventure. Plain and simple.

And asking those questions made Mommy anxious and sad. So, she learned how to make her mother smile and forget.

But the one question that she wanted an answer to most of all was who her father was.

So, she carefully asked little questions, found out little details that her mother let slip. Until one day, she gathered up her courage and asked her mother, “Where is Daddy, Mom?”

The look on her face is seared into my memory to this day.

Shock.

Fear. No … terror .

But she hid it quickly, so fast that at the time, I thought I imagined it. Mom smiled, kneeling, and told me, “Your father was a great man, Gloria. A powerful man. But he died a long time ago.”

And that was the last she ever said about it.

“ Es-tu s?r? You sure you don’t want me to stick around, Miss Gloria?” The bell on the door jingles, held open by a dark-haired, older man with a cleft chin.

“No, merci , Louis. Get home to Mael.”

“ Merci beaucoup . He loves when I make it home to tuck him in. Bonne nuit !”

“ Au revoir ,” I mutter, waving as I gather the last of the flower arrangements off the cafe tables.

A long, dramatic sigh slips out as I wipe up the last of the coffee, beer stains, and crumbs and sweep the floor one last time. Another day done at one job, and I still have to get home and write two essays for class tomorrow.

Finishing up the last of the dishes, I lock the shop, making sure to close the curtains and pull down the retracting gate out front. Louis finally stopped reminding me to do it just last week.

“Even though I have been running his bistro for a year now,” I grumble, just to hear the sound of my voice as I head off down the walk.

It’s been useful having this job, conveniently located halfway to the university from my house, but I’m flagging. Wearing thin.

Two jobs.

Master’s program.

Debt.

And a private boarding school bill that eats up the rest of the money I scrape together every month. It’s worth it, though. I have to keep that first and foremost in my mind.

Because my little sister Anna is everything to me, and the only person I have left in this world.

After years of town hopping, switching schools, and homeschooling, Mom and I stopped running. Everything seemed to settle down, my mother relaxed, some. Like something crucial had changed.

And for the first time in my life, I stayed in one place. One year, then two.

Paris was magical. Happy.

But that peace didn’t last. Mom said we still weren’t safe. So, she found someone to protect us.

Claude was intimidating, but quiet. A real thug, but he treated my mother well enough.

Me, he tolerated. I was just an awkward, eleven-year-old nerdy kid.

At least until they had my sister. Things got better for a little while when she was born. She was a blessing in a dark time. A ray of sunlight through storm clouds. And Claude’s meal ticket.

Just as the thought crosses my mind, my phone buzzes, making me jump in the wavering shadows of a streetlamp.

“ Merde !” I look around out of habit while flicking the green button. “Anna! What are you doing up at this hour?”

“Wow! Language, Gloria Marie. I was waiting for you to get off work, so I could call.”

“Sorry, you just scared me. And that sounds like a fast way to getting a handful of demerits and detention!” I scold.

“I never get in trouble, so they never suspect this perfect angel.”

“You’re a wretched little brat. Where did you learn to be so conniving?”

“If I recall, my big sister used to sneak out of our house to go dancing late at night…”

“More like to go stay at Brielle’s house where I didn’t have to share a room with a toddler!”

“I remember that apartment. It was tiny !” Anna’s giggle is musical, high and happy.

“Hold that thought…” I drop the phone to my side as I cross at the intersection, skipping to dodge a late-night cyclist.

“ Pardon !” I growl out, glaring back over my shoulder.

“You okay, Glow?” the garbled little voice in my hand calls out.

“Yeah, sorry. Some people don’t know how to read road signs or stop for pedestrians!”

Anna pauses before she responds, a little hitch in her breath. “Um, Gloria, is everything alright?”

“Yeah, of course. It was just a biker.”

“Not that. It’s just, you sound…stressed out. Tired.”

“Don’t worry about me mon chau .”

“I’m not a cabbage!”

“No, you’re a choux a la creme , my sweet little cream puff!” I laugh, remembering all the times she used to giggle at the nickname as a little girl. I’d tickle her until she was red in the face.

“But I do worry. You work too hard and…I don’t know.”

“Tell me.”

“I just got a bad feeling today, that’s all.”

I take a breath, arguing with myself as I turn the corner onto a brightly lit street. I take the long way home when I have to leave late.

“You know you can talk to me, Glow. I’m twelve. Not a baby.”

“You’ll always be a baby to me. But I…I got a notice from my school about my loans for next semester.”

“What did it say?’

“I-I can’t go. But that just means I can work all spring and summer, and then?—”

“Gloria, no!” Anna sighs, sounding genuinely upset for me.

“It’s alright, Anna. It’s just a setback.” In a long list of setbacks that have been piling up for the past two years.

“It’s not fair. Dad should help us.”

“No. He’s long gone, Anna.”

“I know. It just makes me mad.”

“Me too. But it’s for the best. And you can’t?—”

“I know. I’m careful not to say anything to anyone.”

I feel that twinge of guilt and remorse that always comes with thinking of my little sister, even more than myself, losing her mother and her father in the same year. Then having to keep secrets. Telling people her aunt pays for school. Only calling each other late at night.

But that’s exactly the point.

Ten months after Mom died, the last of her money dried up. And Claude vanished.

Leaving us with his mountain of credit card and loan debt.

Fortunately, Anna was already enrolled at the boarding school and safe with her first year paid. And I did everything I could to make sure he couldn’t find her or bother her. Including forging his signature on the paperwork and getting full guardianship of my little sister.

“Hey, chin up. Get some sleep and keep getting top marks, okay? Or else I’ll have to come embarrass the shit out of you in front of all of your friends!”

“So you’ll come visit if I misbehave?”

“I’ll take you for a trip soon, I promise. Now go to bed.”

“Fine. Don’t get kidnapped, Glow.”

“I love you, mon petit monstre .”

“Says the sister who snores like an ogre.”

“Rude!”

“That’s what I always thought when I was trying to sleep. Love you, Glow.”

“Goodnight, Anna.”

“Night! Text me when you get home, ’kay?”

The line clicks off, and I’m still chuckling when I hear a scuffle behind me. Nerves shiver up my back.

Dammit, Anna. Got me all jumpy.

But it’s not my imagination. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I reach my neighborhood, just a few blocks from home. Slipping into the alley I usually take as a shortcut during the day, I glance back, scanning the street.

Nothing.

Slipping my pepper spray out of my purse, I trot down the alley, the quickest way to my apartment. Thank God I wore my flats today.

Reaching the end of the street, I follow the wall, dodging out of sight and waiting for a sound, peering from a safe vantage back the way I came. After a few seconds of holding my breath, I sigh, shaking my head.

Anna is right.

I’m too stressed out.

I just need to get home so I can get my schoolwork done and go to sleep for a few hours.

The glow of the boulangerie across from my door flickers as I step out of the alley, my guard dropping while I think of my to-do list. My reaction is a split-second late when a figure in a coat steps out beside me, reaching for me.

Clapping a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming, I unload the can in my hand.

“Shit! Whoa, whoa!” The older man’s voice is gruff and panicked as he leaps back out of the path of the cloud of burning haze.

I’m running the other direction with my scarf pulled up over my mouth and nose a second later.

“Stop! Uh, arrêt !” His French is terrible. “I just want to talk!”

Wait …

English.

American.

It gives me pause but I’m still moving away when he moves to follow, calling after me. “Please, I’m not going to hurt you. Name’s Jim Weller. I’m a cop.”

“Bullshit!” I’m rattling off before I can stop myself, still making a beeline toward my door. “Leave me alone or I’ll scream, and you do not want my Russian neighbors to come down here!”

It’s a bluff, but the two sons of the family are burly soccer players, and some of my neighbors would come out to see if I made enough noise.

“I’ve got a badge.”

“Don’t care.”

“Look, Miss Abate, I need to talk to you about your father.”

I stop dead in my tracks. He knows my last name.

“Claude is a criminal. Go talk to the gendarmerie. He’s probably in jail again.”

“Not your stepfather, Gloria. Your real dad. Domenico Vipera.”

Something drops in my chest like a sack of bricks.

I don’t recognize the last name, but that’s definitely my birth father’s name. Domenico.

“Stay back. But show me your badge.” I shouldn’t be doing this. It’s stupid. Dangerous.

But …

“Here, look.” The wallet flops down, exposing the badge and the letters FBI. He’s tall. Graying. Reminds me of that old TV detective show Mom used to watch. Kojak?

“FBI? You expect me to believe that?”

“I know…I’m out of my jurisdiction. But I needed to gather intel. We think your father is planning something. I do, anyway.”

“Sorry to break it to you, my father is dead.” I huff, shaking my head. Just some wack job, probably trying to scam me. “Do not come closer, or I’ll call the real police, you hear me?”

“I won’t. I just need to make sure he hasn’t tried to contact you. He’s a dangerous man, Gloria. He went missing a while back. And now we’re getting signs that he might be back on the scene.”

“Scene?”

“Yes. Organized crime. Your father was, is, in the mob.”

“The mob? The mafia?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Yes. He was a major player in one of the most influential families in the world. The Diamantes. Does any of that ring any bells?”

“Like I said…he’s dead. I don’t know him. Never did.”

“Understood. But, take my card, please? And this…” He draws out a slip of paper, a photo. Keeping his hands up, he bends down, setting his business card and the photo on the ground, backing away. “If you hear anything, if he tries to contact you, just give me a call, okay?”

I let the chilliest expression settle over my face and stare him down.

“Hint taken. I’ll go.”

Just like that he turns and trots off down the street.

And it hits me how utterly ridiculous the entire encounter was. Right before the jitters hit me, making my hands shake and cold sweat break out all over my body.

“Absolutely insane,” I mutter, fumbling for my keys.

But just as I’m about to go in, I pause.

The photo and the card are in my hand when I head upstairs, collecting my mail, darting into my apartment, and slamming the door. Taking several deep breaths, I slump down at my kitchen table, covering my face with my hands until I calm down.

Just as I’m sorting myself out, I hear a thump on the wall.

“Sweetie. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Mrs. Boucher. Thank you for checking.”

“You sounded distressed. Do you need me to call the police?”

“No, Mrs. Boucher, do not call the police. Everything is fine. I was just in a hurry to get upstairs to use the restroom.”

“Oh, of course, sweetie. I’ll put back on my headphones, then.”

Stupid thin walls.

Scooping up the photo, I flip it over. It’s a shot from an airport security feed. A man getting out of a black SUV, wearing sunglasses, dated a few weeks back on the digital display. A red marker circled his hand, adorned with a huge gold ring, marked with a V, barely visible in the resolution of the picture.

“Neat. A photo of someone I don’t know wearing a ring.”

Setting it down, I sort my mail, needing the distraction. Bills, bills, bills. Overdue notice. The bill for Anna’s tuition. And a letter from my landlord. An eviction notice.

“But I’m paid up!” I hiss, scanning the letter.

Renovations. Remodeling.

They’re terminating my lease because the owner wants to redo this unit.

Slumping back, I bite down on my lip to keep from crying. It’s all too much. Everything is falling apart. It wells up, strangling me.

Clamping down on my anger to keep from screaming, I scatter the envelopes on the table, knocking them all to the floor, the photo, my schoolwork. Everything.

And that’s when I see it.

A letter, the address handwritten, the envelope lying right next to the photo the man gave me. It’s nice stock. Elegant.

No return address.

But the seal on the back looks just like the V in the photo.

A chill settles over me as I sit, opening the letter with shaking fingers to read the first line:

Dear Gloria,

I hope this letter finds you well. You cannot imagine my relief to have finally found you. This may come as a surprise to you, but I have been looking for you your entire life. My name is Domenico Vipera; I am your father.

And I would like to offer you an opportunity…