Chapter 8 - THE ASHES OF BETRAYAL
The shattering glass rained down like diamonds across the Persian rug.
Answer one: Daniel hadn't left Natalie and Leo safely at the safehouse. He had locked them inside and abandoned them to secure his escape.
Open two: Closed. There were no more secrets. Only consequences.
Stepping through the ruined terrace doors was Marco Moretti’s old mentor, a massive, scarred enforcer named Silas. He had been guarding the armory, and he was holding a pump-action shotgun leveled directly at Daniel's chest.
"Drop it, kid," Silas growled, crunching over the broken glass. "Or I'll paint this expensive wallpaper with your brains."
Daniel panicked. He shoved Eleanor away and swung his pistol toward Silas.
It was a fatal mistake.
Luca didn't hesitate. In one fluid motion, he lunged across the dining table, grabbed the heavy silver platter, and hurled it like a discus. The heavy silver edge struck Daniel squarely in the wrist.
Daniel screamed, dropping the gun.
Before the weapon even hit the floor, Silas was across the room, driving the butt of the shotgun into Daniel’s stomach. The traitorous security chief crumpled to the floor, gasping for air.
Vanessa shrieked. Her human shield was gone. Her inside man was down.
Reversal: Vanessa didn't surrender. She bolted toward the kitchen, desperate to find another exit.
But Natalie was standing in the doorway.
Despite her swollen, bruised ankle, Natalie didn't move out of the way. She stood her ground, her eyes blazing with the fierce, primal protectiveness of a mother who had just watched a monster try to destroy her child.
Vanessa barreled toward her, raising a hand to strike the maid. "Move, you pathetic—!"
Natalie didn't flinch. She reached out, grabbed Vanessa by the front of her expensive red silk gown, and shoved her backward with every ounce of strength she had left.
Vanessa stumbled, her high heels twisting on the hardwood. She crashed backward into a towering stack of empty flower crates, bringing them down in a spectacular avalanche of splintered wood and crushed white roses.
Vanessa lay on the floor, gasping, covered in thorns and ruined silk.
Luca walked slowly toward her. He stood over her, his shadow blocking out the chandelier light.
"The helicopter," Vanessa choked out, spitting a white petal from her bleeding lip. "They'll come in here for me. You can't stop them."
Luca pulled his phone from his pocket. He hit a single button.
Outside, the deafening roar of the helicopter suddenly pitched upward, the engine whining in distress before the sound banked sharply away, fading quickly into the Chicago night.
"They aren't coming," Luca said coldly. "My men secured the roof five minutes ago. Your pilot just realized he was flying into a heavily armed fortress."
Vanessa stared up at him, her chest heaving. The realization finally hit her. It was over. The money. The escape. The lies. All of it was gone.
Eleanor walked over, leaning heavily on Silas’s arm. She looked down at the woman who had ruined her son’s life.
"David is awake, Vanessa," Eleanor said softly. "The police are already taking his statement. They know about the money. They know about the hit-and-run on Marco. And they know about the baby you left to freeze."
Vanessa squeezed her eyes shut, letting out a wretched, defeated sob.
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Cliffhanger: Luca turned away from the wreckage of his fiancée and looked toward the kitchen doorway. Natalie was on her knees, clutching little Leo desperately to her chest, burying her face in his hair.
Luca walked over to them, kneeling down in the shattered glass. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box.
