“TAKE THOSE SHOES AWAY FROM HER! SHE CAN BARELY WALK, AND I'M NOT HAVING AN OLD WOMAN FALL IN FRONT OF MY DINNER GUESTS!” THE MAFIA BOSS'S FIANCÉE HUMILIATED HIS 25-YEAR-OLD MAID FOR HELPING HIS 78-YEAR-OLD MOTHER PUT ON HER SHOES

My blood turned to absolute ice.

I stared at the text message, the words blurring as panic seized my chest.

You took my family, Hannah. Now, I’m taking yours.

“Hannah? What’s wrong?” Luca asked, noticing I had stopped in the hallway. He walked back toward me, his brow furrowing as he saw the sheer terror on my face.

“It’s a text,” I whispered, my voice shaking uncontrollably. “From an unknown number.”

Luca took the phone from my hand. He read the message and looked at the photo of the private jet. His jaw clenched so tightly I thought his teeth would shatter.

“Vanessa,” Luca growled, his voice a low, lethal rumble.

“Vanessa?” Sofia asked, walking over with Leo safely behind her. “But the police arrested her at the marina! I saw them put her in the squad car!”

“She must have made a deal, or her father posted bail through a shadow account,” Luca realized, his eyes burning with fury. He looked closer at the photograph of the jet.

He zoomed in on the tail number.

“That’s a Bellini corporate jet,” Luca said grimly. “She’s at O'Hare. She’s executing her backup plan to flee to Geneva.”

“But what does she mean she’s taking my family?” I panicked, grabbing Luca’s arm. “My mother is at her apartment! The police are there!”

Luca immediately dialed his head of security, Marco.

“Marco, check on Dr. Collins’s apartment immediately. Status report, now,” Luca barked into the phone.

There was a tense, agonizing silence on the other end of the line.

“Boss,” Marco’s voice cracked over the speaker. “The police detail outside the apartment was incapacitated. Sedated. The apartment is empty. Dr. Collins is gone.”

I let out a broken, terrified scream, collapsing against the hallway wall. “No! Mom!”

Vanessa hadn't just run. She had orchestrated a kidnapping. She knew my mother was the key to proving Victor’s crimes and exposing the Bellini bankruptcy. If she took my mother to Geneva, she had the ultimate leverage to blackmail Luca into giving her the money she needed to survive.

“She’s taking her on that plane,” Luca said, his voice terrifyingly calm. He looked at me, grabbing my shoulders, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Hannah, look at me. I am not going to let her take your mother. Do you understand me? I will burn this city to the ground before I let a Bellini touch her.”

“We have to stop that plane,” I cried, wiping my tears.

“We will,” Luca said fiercely.

He didn't call the police. The police were too slow, hindered by jurisdiction and red tape.

Luca called in the full, terrifying power of the Moretti empire.

Within ten minutes, a sleek, armored black SUV was tearing down the highway toward O'Hare International Airport. Luca drove, his face a mask of lethal concentration. I sat in the passenger seat, my hands gripping the dashboard.

“I have men securing the perimeter of the private airfield,” Luca said into his Bluetooth earpiece. “Do not let that Bellini jet take off. Shoot the tires if you have to.”

We arrived at the private aviation terminal in record time. The heavy iron gates were already smashed open by Luca’s advance security team.

We skidded onto the tarmac.

A hundred yards away, the sleek black Bellini jet was detached from the boarding stairs, its engines whining loudly, preparing for taxi.

“She’s moving!” I screamed.

Luca didn't brake. He slammed his foot on the accelerator, driving the massive armored SUV directly onto the active runway.

He aimed the vehicle squarely at the nose of the taxiing jet.

“Hold on!” Luca roared.

He slammed on the brakes mere inches from the jet’s front landing gear. The SUV skidded sideways, completely blocking the aircraft’s path. The jet’s engines shrieked in protest as the pilot engaged the emergency brakes, stopping with a violent jerk.

Luca kicked his door open, drawing a heavy, matte-black handgun from his shoulder holster.

I didn't stay in the car. I jumped out right behind him, the roaring jet engines deafening in the cold morning air.

The heavy door of the private jet was forced open from the inside.

Vanessa stood in the doorway, the wind whipping her hair wildly around her face. She looked desperate, unhinged, and absolutely terrifying.

She was holding a gun to the back of my mother’s head.

My mother looked frail, wearing only her nightgown, but her eyes were calm and resolute as she looked down at me on the tarmac.

“Back off, Luca!” Vanessa screamed over the engine noise, pressing the barrel harder against my mother’s silver hair. “Move the car, or I kill her right now!”

“You kill her, and you die on this runway, Vanessa!” Luca roared back, aiming his weapon flawlessly at Vanessa’s chest. “My men have snipers on the terminal roof. You have nowhere to go!”

Vanessa laughed hysterically. “I don't care! My life is over! My father is ruined! You humiliated me, Luca! I just want the money! Wire fifty million to my Swiss account, and I let the doctor go!”

“I don't negotiate with parasites,” Luca said coldly.

“Then she dies!” Vanessa shrieked, her finger tightening on the trigger.

“Hannah,” my mother suddenly yelled, her voice surprisingly strong over the roar of the engines. “Remember the compass!”

I froze.

Remember the compass.

What compass? I didn't have a compass.

Then I realized. She wasn't talking about a physical compass.

When I was a little girl, my mother taught me a game to calm my anxiety. When you're lost, Hannah, look for true north. Drop everything and brace for the wind.

It was a code.

Drop everything and brace.

I looked at Luca. I knew he was a master marksman. I knew he was waiting for a clear shot.

“Mom! True North!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

My mother didn't hesitate.

Despite her frail age and the arthritis in her knees, my mother suddenly collapsed her entire body weight forward, dropping violently to the floor of the jet’s doorway.

Vanessa staggered forward, caught completely off guard by the sudden loss of her hostage’s weight.

For a fraction of a second, Vanessa’s chest was fully exposed in the doorway.

BANG.

Luca fired a single, perfect shot.

The bullet struck Vanessa squarely in the right shoulder. The gun flew from her hand, clattering onto the tarmac. She screamed in agony, collapsing backward into the cabin of the jet.

“Go! Go!” Luca yelled, sprinting up the boarding stairs.

I was right behind him.

We burst into the cabin. Vanessa was writhing on the plush leather floor, clutching her bleeding shoulder, sobbing hysterically.

Luca’s security team swarmed the jet, securing the pilots and hauling Vanessa to her feet, slapping heavy zip-ties on her wrists.

I didn't look at her. I fell to my knees beside my mother.

“Mom! Mom, are you okay?” I cried, pulling her into a fierce, desperate embrace.

My mother hugged me back tightly, her frail arms surprisingly strong. “I’m okay, Hannah. I’m okay. You did perfectly.”

Luca knelt beside us, gently helping my mother to her feet.

“Dr. Collins,” Luca said softly, his eyes filled with profound respect. “You are the bravest woman I have ever met.”

My mother smiled tiredly. “I’m just a mother, Mr. Moretti. We do what we must.”

The police arrived minutes later, fully taking custody of Vanessa. The nightmare was finally, irrevocably over. The Bellini family was destroyed, Victor was gone, and the Moretti empire was cleansed of its rot.

We stood on the tarmac as the morning sun fully crested the horizon, bathing the airport in a warm, golden light.

Luca turned to me. He gently reached out, his thumb brushing a stray tear from my cheek.

“No more running, Hannah,” Luca whispered, his dark eyes locked onto mine, filled with a promise that made my heart soar. “From now on, you are safe. Both of you.”