Chapter 6 - [THE LAST TRAIN HOME]
The gunshot was deafening in the enclosed station.
But Luca didn’t fire.
He didn’t have a clear shot without risking his mother.
It was Vanessa.
She had a small silver derringer in her hand—a purse gun.
Smoke drifted from the tiny barrel.
Antonio Bellini staggered backward.
He dropped his revolver.
He clutched his shoulder, blood instantly soaking his trench coat.
He looked at his daughter in absolute shock.
“You shot me.”
“You killed my sister,” Vanessa whispered, her hand shaking so violently the small gun clattered to the wet concrete.
Antonio took another step back.
His heel hit the edge of the platform.
He lost his balance.
With a short, sharp cry, Antonio fell backward onto the tracks.
There was a sickening thud.
Then, a bright flash of blue electricity illuminated the rain.
Antonio Bellini hit the third rail.
The smell of ozone and burning fabric filled the air.
He didn’t move again.
Vanessa collapsed onto her knees, burying her face in her hands.
But Luca wasn’t looking at Antonio.
He was running.
He crossed the platform and fell to his knees in the puddles.
He reached out, his hands shaking, and pulled the frail, soaking wet woman into his arms.
“Mom,” he choked out.
“Mom, I’ve got you.”
Lucia wrapped her thin arms tightly around his neck.
She buried her face in his shoulder, crying with the desperate, broken sound of a woman who had carried a ghost for two decades.
“I’m sorry,” she wept. “I’m so sorry, my baby. I thought I was protecting you. I thought you were safe.”
“I’m safe,” Luca said, pressing his face into her wet gray hair. “I’m safe. You’re safe. We’re going home.”
Daniel walked up slowly.
He placed a gentle hand on Lucia’s shoulder.
She looked up, seeing the old pianist through her tears.
“Daniel,” she whispered.
“You told him.”
“I had to, Lucia,” Daniel said softly.
“It was time.”
Luca stood up, helping his mother to her feet.
He took off his heavy suit jacket and wrapped it around her shivering shoulders.
Then, he turned to Vanessa.
She was still kneeling on the concrete, staring at the empty space where her father had fallen.
Luca walked over to her.
He knelt down.
He didn’t touch her, but he spoke softly.
“Vanessa.”
She looked up. Her eyes were empty.
“I killed him.”
“You saved my mother,” Luca said.
“And you avenged your sister.”
Vanessa let out a broken sob.
“You’re free,” Luca told her.
“No more blood debts. No more Carlo. Take your family’s money. Leave Chicago. Start over.”
Vanessa nodded slowly.
She didn’t say thank you. She didn’t have the energy.
She just stood up, wrapped her gray coat tighter around herself, and walked slowly down the stairs, leaving the Moretti world forever.
By the time they returned to the mansion, the storm had passed.
It was 2:00 AM.
I was waiting in the foyer with Rosa and Mia.
When the heavy front doors opened, Rosa let out a cry that echoed off the marble walls.
She ran forward and threw her arms around Lucia.
The two older women held each other, thirty years of friendship surviving twenty-two years of grief.
Luca stood in the doorway, watching them.
He looked exhausted. Beaten down.
But for the first time since I met him, he looked at peace.
He caught my eye.
He walked over to me.
“You locked the doors,” he said.
“I did.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
He dialed a number. Put it on speaker.
“Matteo,” Luca said.
“Boss,” his head of security answered.
“Go down to the wine cellar,” Luca ordered.
“Take my uncle Carlo. Put him in a car. Drive him to the syndicate council in New York. Tell them Carlo attempted to murder the matriarch of the Moretti family, and he hid the man who did it.”
“Understood, Boss. What’s the penalty?”
Luca looked at his mother.
“They’ll handle it.”
He hung up the phone.
The house was finally safe.
The lies were dead.
The family was whole.
I stepped back.
My job was done. The engagement was off. The dinner was ruined.
I was just the housekeeper who poured the champagne.
“I’ll go to my room,” I said quietly. “I’ll start packing in the morning. I’m assuming you won’t need me anymore.”
Luca frowned.
He reached out and caught my wrist.
Not hard. Just enough to stop me.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Back to my life,” I said, trying to smile.
Luca looked at my hand.
Then he looked up into my eyes.
“You put your hand over my gun tonight,” he said softly.
“You stopped me from throwing my life away. You sent me to the train station.”
He stepped closer.
The scent of rain and expensive cologne surrounded me.
“I don’t need a housekeeper, Emma,” Luca whispered.
“I need someone who isn’t afraid of the dark.”
He reached into his pocket.
He pulled out a heavy silver object.
It wasn’t a gun.
It wasn’t a rosary.
It was a beautiful, antique silver bracelet.
Intricately carved with olive branches.
“This was my mother’s,” Luca said.
“She gave it to me on my sixteenth birthday. She told me to give it to the woman who anchored me.”
He unclasped the bracelet and gently wrapped it around my wrist.
“Stay,” he said.
I looked down at the silver resting against my skin.
Then I looked at the man who had just dismantled an empire to save his mother.
I smiled.
May you like
“Okay,” I whispered.
TITLE: THE MATRIARCH’S ROOM
