Chapter 7
The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed like a thunderclap.
Luca slammed into the tattooed man, driving his shoulder squarely into the assassin’s chest. The gun fired wildly into the ceiling, raining plaster down on the dining table.
Screams erupted from under the table.
The two other fake caterers raised their weapons, but Marcus and the second guard were already moving. Without their firearms, the guards used the heavy oak dining chairs, smashing them into the gunmen’s knees.
It was absolute, brutal chaos.
I dragged Ethan deeper under the table, shielding his head with my arms. He was sobbing into my apron.
"Close your eyes, sweetie! Keep them closed!" I yelled over the sounds of shattering crystal and breaking bones.
Above us, Luca was fighting like a man possessed. He wasn't just defending his home; he was avenging his murdered wife and protecting his son. He grabbed the tattooed man's wrist, twisting it until a sickening snap echoed through the room. The gun clattered to the floor.
Luca drove his knee into the man's stomach, then delivered a devastating blow to his jaw, knocking him unconscious instantly.
Within sixty seconds, it was over.
Marcus had one gunman pinned, zip-tying his hands, while the other lay groaning near the shattered remains of the engagement cake.
Luca stood up, breathing heavily. His tailored suit was torn, his knuckles bloody.
He didn't check on his bleeding hand. He didn't check on the terrified guests crawling out from under the table.
He immediately dropped to his knees, peering under the tablecloth.
"Ethan?" he called out, his voice shaking with raw panic.
I scrambled out, pulling Ethan with me. "He's safe, Mr. Moretti. He's not hurt."
Luca pulled his son into a desperate, crushing hug, burying his face in Ethan’s neck. "Thank God. Thank God."
Ethan wrapped his little arms around his father's neck. "Miss Nora pushed me away, Daddy. She saved me."
Luca looked up at me from the floor. The gratitude in his eyes was so profound, so intense, it made my breath catch.
But the moment was shattered by the sound of high heels clicking rapidly toward the door.
Vanessa was trying to run.
She had slipped past the commotion and was sprinting toward the grand foyer, her torn red silk gown trailing behind her like a bloody streak.
"Get her!" Marcus yelled, struggling to hold down the assassin.
I didn't wait for permission. I didn't think about the fact that I was just a housemaid.
I scrambled to my feet, grabbed the heavy silver champagne bucket from the side table, and hurled it with all my strength.
The solid silver bucket struck Vanessa squarely in the back of the knees.
She shrieked, collapsing onto the marble floor of the foyer, sliding a few feet before slamming into the heavy mahogany front doors.
Before she could get up, I was on top of her.
She clawed at my face with her acrylic nails, screaming obscenities, but I grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the marble floor.
"You are not leaving," I hissed, my face inches from hers. "You are going to prison for what you did to his mother."
Vanessa spat at me, her beautiful face contorted into something ugly and demonic. "You're nothing! You're a minimum-wage servant! He's going to discard you just like he discarded everyone else!"
A heavy hand clamped down on Vanessa's shoulder.
Luca pulled her off the floor, his grip unyielding.
"The only person being discarded today," Luca said, his voice dripping with lethal calm, "is you."
He looked at Marcus. "Call the police. Tell the Commissioner I want Victor Thorne's compound raided tonight. Give them Mrs. Ellis, the gunmen, and my former fiancée."
Vanessa began to weep hysterically, begging, pleading, promising she could fix it.
May you like
Luca didn't even blink as Marcus dragged her away.
The nightmare was finally over.
