Chapter 8 - THE SHOT IN THE DARK
Evelyn writhed on the cold stone floor, blood seeping through her expensive silk blouse. The silver pistol lay uselessly a few feet away.
Matteo didn't even look at her. He rushed forward, dropping his gun, and pulled June into his arms.
"I've got you, June. It's okay. I've got you," he whispered, holding the trembling woman tight.
I ran to them, wrapping my cardigan around June's shoulders.
June looked up at Matteo. The confusion that usually clouded her eyes was gone. In the wake of the sheer terror, her mind was heartbreakingly sharp.
She reached up and touched Matteo's cheek.
"Nicky," she whispered, her voice fragile but clear. "She unplugged the machine. I saw her. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I couldn't remember."
Matteo closed his eyes, a single tear escaping. "I know, June. I know. You saved me."
Dante stepped into the cellar, kicking Evelyn’s gun away. He hauled her up by her uninjured arm.
"The police are pulling up to the gates," Dante reported. "We handed Marcus over. This one is next."
"You think you've won?" Evelyn hissed, spitting blood onto the floor. She glared at Matteo, her eyes burning with pure hatred. "You think playing happy family fixes everything?"
Matteo stood up, his towering frame casting a long shadow over her.
"You murdered my father. You tried to murder my sister. You tried to kill Henry and June. You're going to prison forever, Evelyn."
"Maybe," Evelyn laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "But you're going to lose everything, Matteo."
She turned her venomous gaze to me.
"You think you're safe now, Abigail? You think you get to be the princess of the Russo empire?" Evelyn sneered. "Check the trust fund clause, Matteo. You know the one your grandfather wrote."
Matteo went entirely still.
"If Abigail takes her rightful place," Evelyn smiled wickedly, "who loses everything?"
"Get her out of here," Matteo ordered Dante, his voice suddenly hollow.
As Dante dragged Evelyn out into the rain, her manic laughter echoed behind her.
I looked at my uncle. The color had drained from his face again.
"What is she talking about?" I asked.
Matteo didn't answer right away. He helped June stand, and together, we walked slowly back to the main house. The police were everywhere, arresting Marcus's men and taking Evelyn away in an ambulance under heavy guard.
We brought June back to the guest room, where Henry was awake and being treated by paramedics. The reunion between the old man and his wife was so beautiful I had to look away. Henry just held her, weeping into her shoulder, promising he would never let her out of his sight again.
I found Matteo in his study downstairs.
He was sitting behind his massive mahogany desk, staring at a thick, leather-bound document.
"Uncle Matteo?" I asked softly, testing the word.
He looked up. The exhaustion in his eyes was profound.
"Evelyn was right," Matteo said quietly.
He pushed the document across the desk toward me.
"My grandfather built this empire," Matteo explained. "He was a ruthless man. He created a clause in the foundational trust. It states that the estate and the syndicate must be run by the eldest male heir."
"But you are the male heir," I said.
"Unless," Matteo pointed to a highlighted section, "a direct descendant of the firstborn child comes forward to claim their birthright."
I stared at the paper.
"Isabella was the firstborn," I realized. "I'm her descendant."
"Yes," Matteo nodded. "If I formally acknowledge you as Isabella's daughter, the trust activates. Ownership of the entire Russo estate transfers to you."
"I don't want it," I said immediately. "I don't care about the money or the mob."
"It's not just that," Matteo sighed. "The clause also dictates that if a female inherits the estate, the syndicate’s ties to the mob are automatically severed. The legal fronts are liquidated. The empire dissolves."
I looked at him, terrified.
For twenty years, Matteo had lived and breathed this empire. He had ruthless enemies. Without the syndicate's protection, without the money and the power, he would be vulnerable. He would lose the very thing he had spent his life building.
"If you acknowledge me," I whispered, "you lose everything."
Matteo stood up. He walked over to the fireplace, where a warm fire was crackling.
He looked at the portrait of his father hanging above the mantle.
"I have twenty-four hours to file the paperwork with the syndicate lawyers," Matteo said softly. "I have to choose between my empire, and my family."
He turned back to look at me, and for the first time, I didn't know what the mafia boss was going to do.
But before I could speak, Maria the housekeeper knocked frantically on the open door.
"Mr. Russo! Abigail!" she panted, holding a small velvet box. "I was cleaning out Evelyn’s vanity like you asked. I found this taped to the bottom of the drawer."
Matteo took the box and opened it.
May you like
Inside was a heavy, rusted iron key.
And beneath it, a train ticket to Boston, dated for tomorrow morning.
