Chapter 6 - THE MAID'S ULTIMATUM
The silence in the vault was suffocating, broken only by the sound of Dominic’s jagged breathing as Matteo pinned him against the stone wall.
“Tax fraud,” Matteo repeated, his voice devoid of any warmth.
“Fifty million dollars' worth,” Dominic sneered, though fear leaked through his bravado. “Unreported syndicate income, carefully deposited into accounts with Mom’s signature over the last five years. Scarlett and Arthur set the trap perfectly. The FBI is just waiting for Arthur’s green light.”
I looked at Evelyn. The proud matriarch looked smaller now, the ugly brown coat suddenly appearing too heavy for her fragile frame.
“They would arrest an eighty-one-year-old woman?” I whispered, horrified.
“The federal government doesn’t care about age, Anna,” Dominic spat. “They care about paper trails. And Mom’s name is on every single illegal shell company we own.”
He turned his head to look at Matteo, a desperate, victorious gleam in his eyes.
“Marry Scarlett,” Dominic demanded. “Merge the families. Give Arthur a seat on the Commission. Do that, and the FBI file disappears. Mom stays out of prison. You get to keep playing boss.”
Matteo didn’t yell. He didn’t strike his brother.
He slowly released Dominic’s arm and stepped back, straightening his suit jacket.
“You are a coward, Dominic,” Matteo said softly. “You’re willing to let our mother die in a federal penitentiary because you were jealous of a title.”
Dominic rubbed his bruised wrist, his face flushed with anger. “I’m doing what’s necessary to survive! The old ways are dead, Matteo! Arthur has the police, the judges, the banks. You have loyalty from old men who will turn on you the second the money dries up.”
Dominic walked backward toward the heavy iron door.
“Noon tomorrow, Matteo. Put on a tuxedo and marry the girl. Or Mom gets arrested in front of the press.”
He turned and disappeared into the dark corridor of the catacombs.
The heavy iron door swung shut with a deafening clang.
Evelyn buried her face in her hands. “Matteo… son, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have signed those papers.”
“Mom, stop.” Matteo rushed to her side, kneeling on the cold stone floor to look into her eyes. “You didn’t do anything wrong. They manipulated you. I will fix this.”
“How?” Evelyn cried, her voice cracking. “Dominic is right. The FBI won’t listen to you. If Arthur pulls the trigger, they’ll raid the house. Let them take me, Matteo. I’ve lived a full life. I’ll plead guilty. It will protect you.”
“I’m not letting you go to prison!” Matteo snapped, his composure finally cracking. He grabbed her hands, kissing her knuckles. “I would burn this city to the ground before I let them put handcuffs on you.”
I stood by the metal table, my mind racing.
Scarlett.
The girl who had treated me like dirt for fourteen months. The girl who complained about the temperature in a room while trying to steal an old woman’s home. The girl who had weaponized my paralyzed mother to protect her father’s crimes.
“Mr. Russo,” I said quietly.
Matteo didn’t look up. “Not now, Anna. I need to think.”
“Mr. Russo,” I said, louder this time.
He finally turned his head, his dark eyes exhausted and angry.
“Dominic said Scarlett moved the trust fund into my mother’s name,” I said, pacing back and forth. “But Scarlett is lazy. I’ve cleaned her suite for over a year. She doesn’t do anything herself. She makes the staff open her mail, pour her coffee, and organize her closet.”
Matteo stood up, his brow furrowing. “What’s your point?”
“My point is, Scarlett wouldn’t know how to execute a complex wire transfer to frame my mother,” I said. “Someone had to give her the exact account numbers, the login credentials, and the authorization codes. And she wouldn’t trust Dominic to keep them.”
Evelyn wiped her eyes, looking confused. “Where would she keep something like that?”
I closed my eyes, picturing Scarlett’s massive, wildly disorganized bedroom. The mountains of designer clothes. The spilled makeup.
And then, I remembered.
“A month ago, I was dusting her vanity,” I said, my heart starting to race. “Scarlett walked in and screamed at me. She actually threw a hairbrush at my head because I touched a small, wooden rosary box on her nightstand.”
Matteo’s eyes narrowed. “A rosary box? Scarlett hasn’t stepped foot inside a church in her life.”
“Exactly,” I said. “She said it was a family heirloom. But when I picked it up to dust beneath it, it was incredibly heavy. Too heavy for wooden beads.”
Matteo walked over to the table and picked up the digital access key he had ripped from Dominic’s wrist.
“Arthur has the physical ledgers,” Matteo said, his mind piecing the puzzle together. “But Scarlett holds the digital keys to the frame-up.”
“If we get that box,” I said, “we can reverse the transfer. We can put the money back in Arthur’s name and send the evidence to the FBI ourselves.”
Matteo looked at me. For the first time all night, a genuine, dangerous smile touched his lips.
“Anna Mitchell,” he said softly. “You are vastly overqualified to be a maid.”
“There’s just one problem,” Evelyn interrupted, her voice trembling again. “Arthur’s men will be guarding the mansion. How are we supposed to get inside Scarlett’s suite without getting killed?”
Matteo checked the magazine of his pistol again, slamming it back into the grip with a sharp click.
“We aren’t going to sneak in,” Matteo said. “I’m the boss. It’s my house. We’re going to walk through the front door.”
He turned to me.
“Anna, are you ready to get your mother’s life back?”
I thought of my mother, lying in a hospital bed, completely unaware that a mafia syndicate was trying to use her as a human shield.
I looked at Evelyn’s worn brown coat.
“Yes,” I said.
Matteo nodded. “Let’s go take apart my fiancée’s bedroom.”
But as we turned to leave the vault, my foot kicked something under the metal table.
I bent down and picked it up.
It was a small, velvet jewelry box. It must have fallen from Dominic’s pocket when Matteo pinned him to the wall.
I popped it open.
May you like
Inside wasn’t a ring. It was a single, terrifying photograph of my mother, sleeping in her hospital bed.
Written on the back in fresh black ink were three words: Say goodbye, maid.
