Chapter 8 - THE SCAR BENEATH THE COLLAR
The sterile hospital hallway felt like a vacuum, sucking the air directly out of my lungs.
Daniel’s gun was leveled at Luca’s chest.
Daniel. The loyal head of security. The man who had stood by Luca for eight years, protected his mother, and driven me away from the exploding mansion just an hour ago.
“Daniel,” Luca said, his voice terrifyingly calm, betraying no fear. “Lower the weapon.”
Daniel’s hands were shaking. His eyes darted between Luca and Simon, who was still holding Lily hostage near the open ambulance doors.
“I didn't know, Boss,” Daniel said, his voice cracking. “I swear to God, I didn't know.”
“You didn't know what?” Luca asked, not breaking eye contact.
“I didn't know I was Julian Vance,” Daniel whispered, a tear slipping down his hardened face. “Simon told me my parents abandoned me. He told me he was my case worker from the orphanage. He got me the job with your family. He said if I didn't report your movements to him, he would have my security license revoked.”
The pieces snapped together in my mind with horrifying clarity.
Daniel was Julian. My brother, Thomas.
The little boy with the scar on his chin who had disappeared eighteen years ago.
I stared at Daniel. He was thirty-six, tall, heavily muscled, with dark hair and a permanent scowl. But as I looked closer, beneath the collar of his tactical shirt, I saw a faint, white line extending up his neck toward his jawline.
The scar.
“You’ve been spying on me for Simon,” Luca stated coldly.
“I only gave him schedules! Drop-offs!” Daniel pleaded. “I never gave him anything that would hurt you, Luca! You were the only family I ever knew!”
Simon laughed from the doorway, tightening his grip on Lily.
“How touching,” Simon sneered. “The lost Vance heir, working as a bodyguard for the Morettis. It’s poetic. Now, Daniel, shoot him in the leg so we can leave.”
Daniel’s grip on the gun tightened.
“Don't do it, Daniel,” I yelled, stepping slightly in front of Luca. “He killed my father tonight! He hired the sniper!”
Daniel’s eyes snapped to me. The blood on my hands, my torn uniform.
“He killed David?” Daniel asked, his voice hollow.
“Yes!” I cried. “And David was the only father who ever truly loved you! He bought you to save you! He wept every day after you were taken!”
Daniel stared at me, the truth of his stolen childhood finally breaking through the lies Simon had fed him for twenty years.
Simon panicked. “Shoot him, Daniel! Or I kill her!” He pressed the gun harder against Lily’s head.
Lily squeezed her eyes shut, sobbing quietly.
Daniel looked at Luca.
Luca didn't raise his hands. He didn't beg for his life. He simply nodded, a silent, absolute communication between two men who had fought side by side for nearly a decade.
Daniel turned his gun.
He didn't point it at Luca.
He aimed directly at Simon.
“Let her go,” Daniel growled, his voice echoing with lethal intent.
Simon’s eyes widened in sheer terror. He realized he had lost his leverage. He was a doctor, a manipulator, a blackmailer—but he wasn't a soldier.
“You won't shoot me!” Simon screamed hysterically. “I’m the only one who knows the password to the offshore accounts! The money from Elias!”
“I don't care about the money,” Daniel said.
Simon panicked. He shoved Lily violently forward, using her body as a shield as he turned to run out the open ambulance doors into the rain.
Lily stumbled and fell hard onto the linoleum floor.
Daniel fired.
The gunshot deafened the hallway.
Simon screamed, collapsing onto the wet concrete of the ambulance bay, clutching his shattered right knee. His gun skittered away into a puddle.
Daniel lowered his weapon, breathing heavily.
I didn't wait. I rushed forward and dropped to the floor beside my sister.
“Lily!” I cried, pulling her into my arms. “Are you okay?”
Lily sobbed, burying her face in my shoulder, shaking uncontrollably. “Hannah, I’m so sorry. I didn't know who he was. I didn't know!”
“It’s okay,” I hushed her, stroking her hair. “You’re safe now.”
Luca walked past us, his expensive shoes clicking methodically on the tile. He stepped out into the rain and stood over Simon, who was writhing in agony on the concrete.
Luca picked up Simon’s discarded gun and checked the chamber.
“You killed David Collins,” Luca said softly, looking down at the bleeding doctor. “You manipulated a kidnapped child. And you held a gun to an innocent woman’s head.”
“Please,” Simon begged, clutching his bleeding knee, the rain washing the blood into the storm drain. “I can give you Margaret. I can give you the evidence she used to blow up the house.”
Luca shook his head slowly.
“Margaret is already in police custody. I don't need your evidence.”
Luca raised the gun and aimed it directly at Simon’s chest.
“Luca, wait!”
It was Daniel.
He stepped out into the rain, standing beside Luca. He looked down at the man who had stolen his life, manipulated him, and forced him to betray the only family he cared about.
“He belongs to me,” Daniel said quietly.
Luca looked at Daniel. The betrayal was still fresh, but the understanding of Daniel’s lifelong victimization was stronger. Luca slowly lowered the gun and handed it to Daniel.
“Make it clean,” Luca said, stepping back.
Daniel aimed the gun at Simon.
Simon wept, raising his bloody hands in a pathetic gesture of surrender. “Julian, please. I raised you. I took care of you.”
“My name is Daniel,” he said coldly.
But before Daniel could pull the trigger, the wail of police sirens flooded the hospital parking lot. Four cruisers screeched to a halt, blocking the ambulance bay. Armed officers poured out, aiming their weapons at Daniel.
“Drop the weapon! Hands in the air!” the lead officer yelled.
Daniel froze.
If he shot Simon now, he would spend the rest of his life in prison. He would become exactly what Simon and Elias Vance wanted him to be—a murderer.
I watched from the doorway, holding my sister.
Daniel looked at the police, then back at Simon.
Slowly, Daniel lowered the gun and tossed it onto the wet concrete. He raised his hands in surrender.
Simon laughed through his pain, a sick, victorious sound.
“You’re going to jail, Daniel,” Simon sneered as the police moved in to arrest him. “I’m a respected doctor. I’ll say you attacked me. I’ll say you’re a mafia hitman.”
The police tackled Daniel, cuffing his hands behind his back.
Luca didn't intervene. He watched with an eerie, calm detachment as the officers secured Daniel and called for a gurney for Simon.
I stood up, helping Lily to her feet. I looked at Luca, bewildered.
“Why didn't you stop them?” I asked, my voice panicked. “Simon is going to frame him!”
Luca turned to me, his dark eyes entirely serene.
“Simon isn't going to frame anyone,” Luca said softly. “Because Simon isn't going to make it to the precinct.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
Luca gestured slightly toward the paramedics who were loading Simon onto the gurney.
I looked closely at the paramedics.
They weren't wearing the standard Chicago General badges. They were wearing dark, unmarked jackets. And one of them was Luca’s personal physician, Dr. Hayes—the man who had treated Luca’s mother for years.
“He needs emergency surgery for that knee,” Luca explained, his voice devoid of any warmth. “My private medical team will transport him. They’ll ensure he gets the absolute best care... in a private facility located in an undisclosed basement on the South Side.”
My breath caught.
Simon Aris wasn't going to jail. He was going into the dark.
Luca looked at the police commissioner, who had just arrived on the scene. The commissioner offered a subtle, almost imperceptible nod toward Luca. The police were turning a blind eye.
“And Daniel?” I asked, terrified for my brother.
“Daniel is being escorted to my car by the police,” Luca said. “He is under my protection. He always will be.”
Luca reached out and gently touched my arm.
“It’s over, Hannah. Let’s take your sister home.”
But as we turned to walk back through the hospital, my phone buzzed in my apron pocket.
I pulled it out. It was a text message from an unknown number.
I opened it, and my blood ran completely cold.
It was a picture of my mother, sitting tied to a chair in her own living room.
May you like
Beneath the picture was a single line of text.
Tell Moretti I want the ledger. Or the mother dies.
