The maid’s toddler said a man with your face followed me, and the mafia boss realized his family had buried a living brother

The fire fight lasted eleven minutes.

When the heavy steel door of the vault finally hissed open, the smell of cordite and copper filled the air.

Vincent stood in the doorway. His suit jacket was gone, his dark dress shirt torn at the shoulder, his hands covered in soot and dark blood that wasn't his own. Behind him, Evan leaned against the library desk, holding a blood-soaked towel against his side.

"It's over," Vincent said, his voice quiet and hoarse. "For now."

Savannah stood up, keeping Lucy behind her skirt. "How many?"

"Seven down downstairs," Vincent replied, stepping into the room and checking the monitor feeds. "Two escaped back toward the bay. My outer security detail was ambushed at the gatehouse. They were paid off by someone inside my own organization."

Evan coughed, a dry, harsh sound. "Not your organization, Vincent. The board. Richard Vance sold you out."

Vincent froze, slowly turning to face his brother. "Vance has been with the Marlowe family for thirty years. He managed our shipping accounts when father was alive."

"Vance was the one who placed the thermite charge on my boat four years ago," Evan said, his dark eyes burning with quiet fury. "I caught him transferring twelve million dollars out of the Blackwater trust into an off-shore account in Grand Cayman. When I confronted him at the docks on Block Island, he blew the hull."

"Why didn't you come to me?" Vincent demanded, stepping toward his brother, his fists clenched at his sides. "Why did you disappear for four years while I built a monument to your memory?"

"Because Vance wasn't working alone!" Evan shouted back, wincing as the movement pulled at his wounded side. "He was working with the Syndicate in Boston! If I had come back to Providence, they would have used you to get to the master ledgers. The only way to keep you alive was to let them think the secret died with me!"

Savannah stepped between the two massive men, her small frame cutting through the suffocating tension in the room.

"Stop it!" she commanded, her voice ringing clearly off the stone walls. "Both of you!"

The twin brothers stopped, looking down at the young woman in her gray servant's dress.

"There are people trying to kill us right now," Savannah said, her blue eyes flashing with fierce authority. "My daughter is three years old and she shouldn't be listening to two grown men argue about who was right four years ago."

Vincent stared at her, caught off guard by her sudden sharpness. In the seven weeks she had worked in his house, Savannah had been quiet, polite, and nearly invisible—cleaning rooms, taking care of her mother's medical arrangements, and keeping her daughter out of his way.

He had never seen her stand her ground like this.

"She's right," Evan muttered, sitting down heavily in the library chair. "We don't have time."

Lucy walked over to Evan's chair. She didn't look afraid of his blood or his dark, scowling face. She held out her tiny hand, opening her fingers to reveal the two silver crest pieces.

"You dropped this by the roses," Lucy said softly.

Evan looked down at the tiny girl. His hard face softened slightly, a faint, sad smile touching his lips. He reached out with two fingers, gently taking the silver pieces from her palm.

"Thank you, little one," Evan said softly.

"What is that?" Vincent asked, looking at the silver crest.

"It's the key to the vault under Terminal 4," Evan explained, tracing the carved numbers on the back. "The coordinates lead to the old lightkeeper's cottage on Block Island. That's where I kept the real ledgers. The proof that Vance and the Boston Syndicate have been using Marlowe ships to move illegal cargo for a decade."