Chapter 7 - THE SIEGE OF THE CARUSO ESTATE
Antonio’s face drained of color.
He kissed my forehead quickly, grabbing a fresh handgun from the weapons locker in the panic room.
“Lock the door behind me,” Antonio ordered the doctor. “Do not open it for anyone except me.”
“Antonio, be careful!” I cried out, trying to sit up, but the agonizing pain in my ribs forced me back down.
“I’ll be right back,” he promised, disappearing through the heavy steel door.
The lock engaged with a loud, terrifying clank, sealing my mother and me safely underground.
But I couldn't just lie there.
Through the security monitors mounted on the wall of the panic room, I watched the nightmare unfold upstairs.
The front gates of the Caruso estate were completely destroyed. A massive delivery truck was wedged halfway through the entrance, smoking heavily.
Daniel Caruso was standing in the grand foyer, surrounded by ten heavily armed Romano syndicate mercenaries he had hired with Victoria’s stolen money.
He was bleeding from his shoulder where Victoria’s bullet had struck him through the vest, but the pain only seemed to fuel his madness.
And kneeling on the marble floor in front of him, held at gunpoint, was Eleanor.
“Where is he?!” Daniel roared, pacing back and forth in front of the terrified old woman. “Where is the bastard who stole my birthright?”
Antonio walked into the foyer, his gun raised, flanked by Carlo and his men.
“I’m right here, Daniel,” Antonio said, his voice cold and lethal. “Let her go. This is between you and me.”
Daniel laughed hysterically, pressing the barrel of his gun against Eleanor’s head.
“There is no you and me!” Daniel screamed. “There is only me! The firstborn! The true heir!”
Eleanor was shaking violently, leaning heavily on her wooden cane.
“Daniel, please,” the old woman wept. “You are sick. You need help.”
“Shut up!” Daniel snarled, striking her across the face with his free hand.
Eleanor crumpled to the floor, dropping her cane.
“Ma!” Antonio roared, lunging forward, but Carlo grabbed him, pulling him back behind a marble pillar as the mercenaries opened fire.
Bullets shredded the grand foyer, destroying priceless vases and tearing through the family portraits on the walls.
The mansion was completely surrounded. It was a bloodbath waiting to happen.
“Sign the transfer papers, Antonio!” Daniel screamed over the gunfire, holding up a bloodstained copy of the forged will. “Sign the estate over to me, or I swear to God I will execute our mother right here on the floor!”
Antonio stood behind the pillar, his chest heaving, his eyes wild with desperation.
He couldn't get a clean shot. If he fired, the mercenaries would tear Eleanor apart.
“Okay!” Antonio yelled, dropping his gun onto the marble floor. He stepped out from behind the pillar, his hands raised. “Okay, Daniel. You win. I’ll sign.”
Daniel smiled, a wicked, victorious grin.
“Smart boy,” Daniel mocked. “Bring him the pen.”
One of the mercenaries stepped forward, grabbing Antonio roughly by the shoulder and forcing him to his knees beside his mother.
Eleanor was crying softly, her cloudy eyes searching for her son.
“I’m so sorry, Antonio,” she whispered.
“It’s okay, Ma,” Antonio soothed, taking the pen from the mercenary. He looked at the forged will.
If he signed it, Daniel would legally own the billion-dollar empire. He would own the very floor they were bleeding on.
Antonio placed the pen against the paper.
But as he did, he noticed something.
Eleanor’s hand wasn't empty.
When she fell, her hand had landed exactly where her wooden cane had dropped.
And her thumb was resting firmly against the tiny, carved silver rose beneath the handle.
Antonio’s eyes widened slightly.
He remembered his father carving that rose fourteen years ago. He remembered his father telling him, Make sure she always has something steady to hold.
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But Henry Caruso hadn't just carved a rose.
He had installed a panic button.
