Page 58 of The Marriage Debt

He frowns. “What’s going on?”

“Lila’s gone.”

That gets his full attention. He straightens, mouth tight. “You sure?” Nothing would get me to call him off the Cappa hit, so he understands why this is important.

“She’s not in the house. Her phone’s off. She didn’t leave a note.”

“You think she left on her own?” he asks. His eyebrows tick up slowly.

“I think she saw something I never meant for her to see,” I say. “And now she’s gone.”

Rafe doesn’t waste time asking what. He knows better. He just nods once and taps the desk twice to get the tech’s attention. The man watches security feeds with headphones on. He pulls them down as I start speaking again.

“Start with the gate logs,” I tell him. “Any exits, any anomalies, any blind spots. Pull traffic cam feeds, ping her last known cell tower, run facial at the train station just in case.”

Rafe’s already moving, pulling on his jacket as he heads for the door. I don’t need to tell him this isn’t optional.

“Find her,” I say again, quieter this time. “Immediately.”

29

LILA

Ileave the estate just after sunrise, slipping out the side gate while the shift change is still underway. No security follows me. No one knows I’m gone until I’ve already cleared the property line. For the first time in weeks, I’m not being watched. There’s no one in my rearview mirror, no shadow pacing behind me down the hall.

The air feels different when I roll the windows down—cold and sharp. I leave the radio off and let the hum of the engine settle into my bones. My hands stay clenched around the wheel the entire way, knuckles pale from the tension I’m not trying to hide anymore.

Beside me in the passenger seat is the folder with the photo and the paperclipped note. It just feels so damn heavy. Every bump in the road threatens to shake something loose in my chest, but I keep driving.

Marcella agreed to meet in a church parking lot outside town—neutral ground. It’s early enough that the lot is empty, long shadows stretching across the cracked pavement. She leans against her car, posture relaxed but eyes alert, her long coat buttoned high against the wind. Her sunglasses are pushed up into her hair. She looks miserable this early in the morning, but I had to know.

I park beside her and sit still for a few moments, the engine ticking as it cools. My hand hovers over the folder on the seat like touching it again will change what it says. It won’t, but I wish it would.

When I step out, I don’t waste time on greetings. I hand her the folder and say, “Tell me what this is.”

She opens it and stops cold when she reaches the photo. Her nails tap once against the edge before falling still. Her eyes shut for a moment. A fleeting look of tension crosses her face. After a moment, she closes the folder and looks at me with something unreadable in her expression.

“Where did you get this?” she asks.

“You already know.”

Her mouth flattens, but she doesn’t deny it. She doesn’t give me a lie to soften the blow. “You shouldn’t have this,” she says.

“But I do.” My heart is pounding, throwing itself against my ribs. What the hell is going on?

Marcella holds the folder against her chest, not offering it back yet. “It’s real,” she says finally.

Even though I already knew, hearing her say it cracks something open in me. It’s not shock. It’s the gut punch of confirmation, the sickening relief of being right when you wanted so badly to be wrong.

“I want the details,” I say, keeping my voice steady.

“It was years ago,” she says. “You were getting close to Anton. The family, well…" Her eyes drop and she shakes her head. "Serafina…" Her words trail off then come back strong. "The Rossis didn't want you around him, Lila. The connection was too volatile between your mother and Anton's father." Her eyes are inky, hollow.

“Who signed off on it?”

Marcella hesitates, and that hesitation is all I need to hear. Still, I want her to say it. I deserve to hear it out loud.

“I want the name," I demand.

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