The Mafia Boss Found His Missing Wife Working as a Maid—But When He Saw What She Hid Beneath Her Sleeve, He Discovered the Brother He Buried Was Still Alive

When Adrian returned to the master suite, the bedroom was dimly lit. Evelyn was sitting on the edge of the four-poster bed, holding a steaming cup of chamomile tea that Maria had prepared for her. She had showered, her wet hair combed back, revealing the sharp, fragile angles of her face.

Hearing his footsteps, she looked up, her knuckles whitening around the porcelain cup.

“Mateo?” she asked simply.

Adrian stepped inside, locking the heavy mahogany door behind him. “Dead. Cyanide.”

She closed her eyes, a heavy, sorrowful sigh leaving her chest. “He was like an uncle to you.”

“He was a traitor,” Adrian said, crossing the room and sitting beside her. He reached out and took the cup from her trembling hands, setting it on the nightstand, before taking both of her hands in his. “He confirmed it, Evie. Julian is here. In the city.”

Evelyn shuddered, leaning her weight against Adrian’s chest. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly against him.

“He’s going to come for me, Adrian,” she whispered. “He won’t stop. He told me that if I ever returned to this house, he would burn it down with both of us inside.”

“He will have to crawl through five hundred of my men to reach this door,” Adrian said fiercely. “And when he gets here, I will be waiting.”

“You don't understand what he gave me,” Evelyn said suddenly, pulling back to look into his eyes. Her expression was urgent, almost frantic.

Adrian frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Evelyn reached down, grabbing the hem of her sweater, and pulled it up slightly on the left side of her ribs. There, hidden beneath her breast, was a long, surgical incision that had healed into a thin, silver line.

Adrian’s breath hitched. “What did he do to you?”

“It happened six months ago,” she said, her voice shaking. “He had a surgeon operate on me under local anesthesia. He told me that I was his safety deposit box. He said that if you ever found me, you would look at my arms, my face, my bruises... but you would never look inside me.”

Adrian felt a surge of cold fury unlike anything he had ever experienced. His hands shook as he gently touched the scar. Beneath the skin, he could feel a small, hard, rectangular object roughly the size of a USB flash drive.

“He sewed it into my flesh, Adrian,” she wept. “He told me that if he ever went down, this key would unlock every vault, every offshore account, every government official bought by the Obsidian Syndicate. But he also said...”

She choked on her words.

“What, Evelyn? What did he say?”

“He said it has an RFID tracker embedded inside it. He told me that from the moment you took me out of that mansion, he has known every mile, every street, every room I’ve slept in.”