Chapter 7 - THE STAIRCASE
Vanessa’s hand was remarkably steady for someone holding a gun.
She looked immaculate, her blonde hair perfectly styled, her designer coat draped over her shoulders. She looked like she was heading to a charity gala, not holding a child and a maid hostage in a hallway.
“Miss Bellini, please,” I begged, pushing Lily firmly behind my back. “She’s just a little girl.”
“She’s a brat,” Vanessa spat, her eyes flashing with pure hatred. “For four years, I’ve had to smile and play mother to a child who looks at me like I’m garbage. I tried to do it the easy way. Send her to a nice school, marry Luca, take the money. But she couldn’t just get on the train, could she?”
Downstairs, the sounds of a brutal struggle echoed. Heavy thuds. Glass breaking. A man shouting in pain. I prayed to God it wasn't Luca.
“My father is going to get those signatures,” Vanessa said, stepping closer. “And once he does, we don’t need Luca anymore. Or either of you.”
Lily was crying silently against my back, her small hands gripping my shirt.
“You won’t get away with this,” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “Luca’s men will be here any minute.”
Vanessa laughed. “Let them come. By the time they arrive, this house will be a tragedy. A home invasion gone wrong. Such a shame.”
She raised the gun slightly, aiming it at my face.
“Move out of the way, Hannah,” she ordered. “I’m taking the girl downstairs.”
“No.”
The word left my mouth before I even thought about it.
Vanessa’s eyes narrowed. “I will shoot you.”
“Then you’ll have to shoot me,” I said, planting my feet firmly on the carpet. “Because I am not letting you take her.”
Vanessa’s finger tightened on the trigger.
Suddenly, a loud, agonizing scream ripped through the foyer below.
Vanessa flinched, her eyes darting toward the staircase for a fraction of a second.
It was all the time I needed.
I didn't have a weapon. I wasn't trained to fight. But I had a heavy, hardback book sitting on the hall table right beside me.
I grabbed it and threw it as hard as I could directly at her face.
The book struck Vanessa square in the nose. She shrieked, stumbling backward in her expensive heels.
The gun went off.
The bullet tore through the wooden banister, missing my arm by an inch.
“Run, Lily!” I screamed.
I shoved the little girl toward the back stairs—the narrow, winding staircase the servants used to reach the kitchen.
We ran blindly in the dark, our feet slipping on the wooden steps. I could hear Vanessa cursing loudly above us, scrambling to recover.
We burst through the door into the kitchen. The very same kitchen where this entire nightmare had started over pencil marks on a doorframe.
“Hide,” I whispered to Lily, pushing her under the massive granite island. “Do not make a sound.”
I grabbed the heaviest thing I could find—a cast-iron skillet from the stove.
I stood beside the swinging kitchen door, holding my breath, waiting for Vanessa to come through.
Seconds ticked by like hours.
Then, the kitchen doors burst open.
But it wasn't Vanessa.
It was Marcus Bellini.
He was bleeding from a cut above his eye, his suit torn. He saw me standing there with the frying pan and laughed.
“Playing hero, are we?” Marcus sneered, raising his own weapon.
Before I could swing, a massive figure crashed through the doors behind him.
Luca.
He tackled Marcus from behind, driving the older man into the stainless steel refrigerator. The impact dented the heavy metal.
Marcus dropped his gun. Luca grabbed him by the throat, pinning him against the steel. Luca’s face was bruised, his shirt torn and bloody, but his eyes were pure, terrifying rage.
“You don’t touch my family,” Luca roared, pulling his fist back.
He punched Marcus with a sickening crunch. Marcus slumped to the floor, unconscious.
I dropped the frying pan, my knees buckling with relief.
“Hannah! Lily!” Luca gasped, looking around frantically.
“Daddy!” Lily crawled out from under the island and ran to him.
Luca dropped to his knees, burying his face in his daughter’s hair, weeping openly. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
I smiled, tears running down my face. It was over.
Then, I heard the click of a gun hammer locking into place.
I turned around.
Vanessa was standing in the doorway of the servant’s stairs. Her nose was bleeding heavily, her face twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated madness.
She aimed her silver pistol directly at Luca’s back.
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“Say hello to Elena for me,” she whispered.
TITLE: THE SHOT IN THE DARK
