Chapter 8 - THE DIAMOND NECKLACE
The red laser dot hovered perfectly still over Chloe’s sternum.
Chloe’s hand began to shake violently. The gun she held pressed against Grace’s head wavered.
“Drop it, Chloe,” Vincent Rossi barked, realizing the sniper across the street had an unobstructed shot through the floor-to-ceiling lobby windows.
With a pathetic sob, Chloe dropped the gun. It hit the carpet with a dull thud. She instantly backed away from Grace, raising her hands in the air.
Grace gasped, stumbling forward.
Matteo caught her immediately. His strong arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest, tucking her safely behind his broad shoulders.
“Are you hurt?” Matteo asked, his voice low, vibrating against her back.
“No,” Grace breathed, her hands gripping the fabric of his suit jacket. “I’m okay.”
Outside, the sirens were deafening. The squeal of tires and the heavy thud of SWAT boots hitting the pavement echoed through the front doors of the club.
Rossi looked frantically around the small coat room. He was trapped.
He lunged for the coat check counter, grabbing the heavy silver decoy seal and shoving it into his pocket. He grabbed Chloe’s arm.
“Through the kitchen!” Rossi yelled, hauling his daughter toward the service doors.
Matteo didn’t try to stop them. He just watched them run.
“Matteo, they’re getting away!” Arthur yelled, clutching his bruised throat.
“No, they aren’t,” Matteo said calmly.
He pulled out his phone and pressed a single button.
“Now,” Matteo said into the receiver.
Three seconds later, the kitchen doors burst open again.
Rossi and Chloe were thrown violently backward into the coat room, stumbling to the floor.
Standing in the doorway were six federal agents, heavily armed, led by a man in a sharp suit holding a badge.
“Vincent Rossi,” the federal agent announced, stepping into the room. “You are under arrest for racketeering, extortion, and illegal arms trafficking.”
Rossi scrambled to his feet, his face red with fury. “You have nothing on me! That ledger is forged, and you can’t prove I own it!”
The federal agent smiled grimly. “We don’t need the ledger, Vincent. We have the wiretap.”
Rossi froze. “What wiretap?”
Matteo stepped forward, leaving Grace safely by her father.
He walked over to Chloe, who was kneeling on the floor, weeping uncontrollably.
Matteo reached down and gently touched the heavy, gaudy diamond necklace resting on Chloe’s collarbone. The necklace Daniel had bought her.
“Beautiful diamonds, Chloe,” Matteo said softly. “Daniel bought this for you yesterday, didn’t he? A gift to celebrate the Alden Freight takeover.”
Chloe nodded, terrified, tears ruining her makeup.
“Daniel is an idiot,” Matteo repeated. “But he is a predictable idiot. When I realized he was working for your father, I had my men intercept the jeweler delivering this piece.”
Matteo grasped the center diamond pendant and snapped it open with his thumb.
Inside the hollowed-out casing was a tiny, flashing red light. A military-grade microphone.
Rossi stared at the necklace in absolute horror.
“You’ve been wearing a wire all night, Chloe,” Matteo said, his voice cold and merciless. “Every threat your father made, every confession about the smuggling ring, every detail about forging Arthur’s signature... it’s all been recorded directly to the FBI servers.”
Chloe let out a strangled scream, tearing the necklace off and throwing it onto the floor.
Rossi lunged at Matteo with a roar of pure rage.
The federal agents didn’t hesitate. Three of them tackled Rossi to the ground, slamming his face into the carpet and wrenching his arms behind his back to cuff him.
Chloe was hauled to her feet by a female agent, the Miranda rights being read to her as she sobbed hysterically.
As they dragged Rossi out of the room, the mob boss twisted his head, locking eyes with Matteo.
“This isn’t over, DeLuca!” Rossi screamed, spit flying from his mouth.
“Yes, it is, Vincent,” Matteo replied softly. “Enjoy prison.”
The room suddenly went quiet as the agents cleared out, leaving only Matteo, Grace, and her father.
Arthur slumped against the counter, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor, utterly exhausted.
Grace knelt beside him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.
“You’re okay, Dad,” she cried softly into his shoulder. “It’s over.”
Arthur hugged her back, burying his face in her hair. “I’m sorry, Gracie. I’m so sorry I brought this to our family.”
“You didn’t bring it, Arthur,” Matteo said, crouching down beside them. His tone had shifted completely, the dangerous mafia boss vanishing, leaving only a calm, deeply respectful man. “You stood your ground against monsters. You protected your daughter, and you protected your city. You are exactly the kind of man I want running my logistics.”
Arthur looked up, stunned. “You… you still want to buy the company?”
“I am buying the company,” Matteo corrected gently. “But the CEO is going to prison along with Rossi. Which means Alden Freight is going to need a new President of Operations.”
Matteo looked directly into Arthur’s eyes.
“I want you, Arthur.”
Arthur stared at him, overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the offer. His dignity, which had been so brutally stripped away by Daniel, was suddenly fully restored.
“I accept,” Arthur said, his voice thick with emotion.
Matteo nodded. He stood up, offering his hand to help Arthur to his feet.
“Go back to the ballroom, Arthur,” Matteo said. “Your wife is waiting for you. And your granddaughter needs to know she is safe.”
Arthur pulled Grace into one last tight hug, shook Matteo’s hand firmly, and hurried out of the ruined coat room.
Grace stood alone with Matteo amidst the shattered wood and dropped coats.
The adrenaline was finally fading, leaving her trembling slightly.
Matteo stepped closer. He didn’t touch her, giving her space, but his presence was a warm, anchoring force in the room.
“Are you ready to go home?” Matteo asked softly.
Grace looked at him. She thought about the empty chair at the table. She thought about the last three years of feeling small, of hiding in the pantry, of believing she wasn’t enough because a coward had left her.
She wasn’t that woman anymore.
“I’m not ready to go home,” Grace said, lifting her chin, her eyes locking onto his.
Matteo’s dark eyebrows rose slightly.
May you like
“No?”
“No.” Grace took a step toward him, closing the distance between them. “We still have a retirement dinner to attend. And I still have a chair that needs to be filled.”
