Chapter 4 - THE ACCOUNTANT'S DAUGHTER
I didn't even have time to scream.
The driver grabbed my uniform collar, yanking me backward. The cold steel of his blade pressed tightly against my throat.
“Drop the gun, Moretti!” the driver shouted, using me as a human shield.
The dining room erupted into pure chaos. Guests dove under the tables, screaming. Matteo and three guards instantly raised their weapons, red laser sights painting the driver’s chest.
But Luca didn't aim at the driver.
He aimed directly at Vanessa, who was cowering near the broken window.
“Tell him to let her go, Vanessa,” Luca said, his voice cutting through the panic like a blade. “Or your father gets his daughter back in a box.”
Vanessa sobbed, holding her hands up. “I don't know him, Luca! I swear! I don't know why he grabbed the maid!”
“Because she’s not just a maid!” the driver yelled, his arm tightening around my neck. It was hard to breathe. “Silvio ordered me to bring the old woman and the girl! Don Romano wants the girl!”
Luca frowned, his gun never wavering from Vanessa.
“Why the hell would the Romanos want my mother’s maid?”
I was terrified, tears spilling down my cheeks, but I managed to look at Teresa.
The old woman had picked up her cane. She was staring at me with a look of pure, unadulterated horror. Not just fear for my life, but a deep, recognizing dread.
“Hannah,” Teresa whispered. “What is your father’s name?”
I choked against the blade. “Thomas. Thomas Collins.”
Teresa covered her mouth, stifling a sob.
Luca looked at his mother. “Mom? What does that mean?”
“Thomas Collins died in a fire fourteen years ago,” Teresa cried, pointing a shaking finger at me. “Luca, he was your father’s secret accountant. He was the only man who knew where Giovanni hid the master ledger before he died!”
My world stopped spinning.
It completely shattered.
My father wasn't a grocery store manager who died in a tragic electrical fire. He worked for the mafia. He worked for the Morettis.
“That’s right,” the driver sneered. “And Silvio figured it out. Giovanni didn't trust anyone in the family with the vault combination. He gave it to the accountant. And when the accountant burned, Silvio thought the code was lost.”
The driver pressed the knife harder against my skin.
“But then the accountant’s daughter shows up working in the mansion. You think that’s a coincidence, Moretti? Silvio knows she has the code.”
Luca’s eyes slowly shifted to me.
“Hannah,” he said calmly, though the gunfire outside was growing louder. “Do you have a code?”
“I don't know what he’s talking about!” I cried. “I just needed a job! My mother is drowning in debt!”
“Liar!” the driver spat.
Suddenly, Teresa stepped forward.
She didn't cower. She didn't look like a frail seventy-eight-year-old woman who needed a handrail. She looked like the matriarch of a crime family.
“Let her go,” Teresa commanded.
She reached up to her neck and unclasped the heavy, gold rosary she always wore. The one she prayed with every morning.
She held the cross up in the air.
“My husband didn't give the code to Thomas Collins,” Teresa said, her voice echoing in the shattered room. “He gave it to me. It’s inside this cross.”
The driver’s eyes widened with greed.
“Slide it across the floor,” he ordered.
“Let Hannah go, and I will hand it to you myself,” Teresa said, taking a slow step forward on her bad knee.
“Mom, don't,” Luca warned, but Teresa ignored him.
She walked right up to the driver.
He reached out, his hand greedy, loosening his grip on my neck just a fraction of an inch to snatch the gold cross.
That was all Teresa needed.
With blinding speed, she swung her wooden cane upward.
The heavy brass bird on the handle smashed directly into the driver’s face.
Bone crunched. The driver screamed, dropping the knife and clutching his broken nose.
Luca didn't hesitate. He stepped forward and fired a single shot into the driver’s leg.
The man collapsed, howling in pain.
I fell to my knees, gasping for air, clutching my uninjured throat.
Teresa immediately dropped her cane and fell to her knees beside me, wrapping her frail arms around my trembling body.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” she whispered fiercely. “You’re safe.”
“Mom, we have to move!” Luca shouted. “Matteo, get the guests to the wine cellar! Barricade the doors!”
“Boss, the front gate is down!” Matteo yelled. “They’re in the courtyard!”
Luca grabbed his mother’s arm, hauling her up. He reached out with his other hand and hoisted me to my feet.
“To the safe room,” Luca ordered.
He didn't grab Vanessa. He left her screaming in the dining room with Matteo’s guards.
We ran toward the grand staircase. The same staircase Vanessa had stripped of its handrail.
Teresa stumbled on the first step. Her bad knee buckled under the panic.
“I can’t,” she sobbed. “Luca, I can’t climb them fast enough.”
Luca didn't say a word.
He holstered his gun, bent down, and scooped his seventy-eight-year-old mother into his arms like she weighed nothing at all.
He carried her up the marble steps, taking them two at a time.
I grabbed her cane from the floor and sprinted after them, the sound of assault rifles echoing through the front doors.
We burst into the master library. Luca kicked the door shut and threw the heavy deadbolt.
He set his mother down gently in a leather armchair, breathing heavily.
Then he walked over to the massive mahogany bookshelf, pulled a specific red book, and pushed. The entire shelf swung inward, revealing a steel-reinforced safe room.
“Get inside,” Luca said.
But as Teresa stood up, she suddenly gasped.
She clutched her chest, her face turning a terrifying shade of gray.
“Mom?” Luca asked, catching her as she collapsed.
May you like
Teresa’s eyes rolled back in her head. She began coughing violently, a thin stream of blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.
“Luca,” she choked out, her fingers gripping his black shirt. “The milk… Vanessa brought me milk… before dinner.”
