Chapter 9 - THE MOTHER WHO CAME HOME IN THE RAIN
“Mom, it’s me! It’s Emma!” I screamed, throwing my hands up.
The flashlight beam dropped instantly.
“Emma?”
My mother stepped out of the shadows. She was wearing her old blue winter coat, the one from the photograph. But she didn't look like the tired, broken woman who cleaned office buildings.
She held a 12-gauge shotgun with absolute, terrifying competence.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, rushing forward and pulling me into a fierce hug.
“They know,” I sobbed into her shoulder. “Victor Bellini is in the house. He has Luca and Antonio. He knows she’s alive.”
My mother’s face hardened into stone.
“Sarah?” a soft voice called out from the back bedroom.
A woman emerged into the dim light of the living room. She was frail, her hair entirely silver, wearing a simple wool cardigan.
It was Luca’s mother. Elena Moretti.
She looked exactly like her son. The same dark, intense eyes.
“Victor is here?” Elena asked, her voice trembling slightly.
“Yes, ma'am,” my mother said, stepping in front of her protectively. “We have to go. Now.”
Suddenly, the front door of the cottage burst open.
Victor Bellini stood in the doorway, breathing heavily, his pistol raised. Vanessa was right behind him, looking terrified and out of breath.
“Well, well,” Victor smiled, stepping inside. “A family reunion.”
My mother raised the shotgun, aiming it directly at Victor’s chest. “Get out of my house, Victor.”
“You won’t shoot me, Sarah,” Victor sneered. “You’re just a maid.”
“I’m the maid who outsmarted you for seventeen years,” my mother spat.
“Dad, just get the bonds and let’s go!” Vanessa cried. “The police are going to be here any second!”
“There are no police!” Victor barked. He looked at Elena. “Hello, Elena. You look good for a dead woman.”
Elena stood tall, her chin raised with the dignity of a true mafia queen. “You are a parasite, Victor. You always were.”
“Where is the money?” Victor demanded, raising his gun. “Two million dollars. Where did she hide it?”
“You want to know where it is?” my mother asked.
She didn't wait for an answer. My mother pulled the trigger.
Not at Victor.
She shot the floorboards directly between Victor’s feet.
The deafening blast blew a massive hole in the rotting wood. Victor screamed, stumbling backward, his gun firing wildly into the ceiling. Vanessa shrieked and fell to her knees.
Through the smoking hole in the floor, beneath the shattered planks, sat a rusted, heavy iron lockbox.
“It’s right there,” my mother said coldly, racking another shell into the chamber. “Take it. And get the hell out.”
Victor stared at the box. Greed overtook his fear. He dropped to his knees, shoving his hands into the hole, pulling the heavy box up to the floor.
He frantically smashed the rusted lock with the butt of his pistol.
The lid popped open.
Victor froze.
The box wasn't full of bearer bonds.
It was full of rocks.
“What is this?” Victor whispered, his face going pale.
Suddenly, a voice spoke from the darkness outside the open door.
“It’s a trap, Victor. You stupid son of a bitch.”
Luca stepped into the doorway. His face was bloody, his suit torn, but he was holding Victor’s own dropped pistol, aimed squarely at Victor’s head.
Behind Luca, Daniel and five heavily armed estate guards stepped into view, weapons raised.
“Drop it,” Luca commanded.
Victor looked at the rocks, then at Luca, then at my mother’s shotgun.
He dropped his weapon.
Luca walked into the room. He didn't look at Victor. He didn't look at Vanessa, who was sobbing hysterically on the floor.
Luca looked at the silver-haired woman standing by the fireplace.
“Mom?” Luca’s voice broke.
Elena burst into tears. She ran across the room, throwing her arms around her son’s neck. Luca buried his face in her shoulder, the ruthless mafia boss shattering into a little boy who had finally got his mother back.
My mother lowered the shotgun, her shoulders sagging with relief. I wrapped my arms around her waist, holding her tight.
“Daniel,” Luca said, his face still buried in his mother’s hair. “Take them. All of them.”
The guards swarmed the room, dragging a screaming Vanessa and a stunned Victor out into the night.
Antonio was wheeled into the doorway a moment later. He looked at his wife, tears streaming down his face.
The nightmare was over.
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We were safe.
TITLE: THE FAMILY HEIRLOOM LEFT IN THE KITCHEN
