I heard a chair scrape against the floorboards.

A third voice spoke up, deep and gravelly.

“The federal prosecutor answers to people who owe me favors, Dominic,” the voice said.

“Who is that?” I muttered to Marco.

“Whitmore,” Marco whispered, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.

“The judge.”

On the phone, Dominic’s voice grew dangerously quiet.

“You brought Whitmore into my house, Mother?”

“The judge is a family friend,” Caterina said.

“He is here to ensure the Valenti name is protected from your foolishness.”

“You threw Elena away because she was weak,” Caterina continued.

“She was a bookstore clerk with no pedigree.”

“But the child she carried—that child is different.”

“Lucia is a Valenti.”

“She will be raised in this house, under my guidance.”

“Never,” Dominic growled.

“I will take Lucia and Elena far away from you.”

“You will try,” Judge Whitmore said.

“But the law is a very flexible instrument, young man.”

“A mother who hides a child for five years is not a mother.”

“She is a kidnapper.”

I felt the blood drain from my face.

My hand began to tremble against Lucia’s hair.