Chapter 6 - The Viper in the House
The revelation hit me like a physical blow. The air rushed out of my lungs, and the lavish hallway spun dangerously around me.
Paul.
Paul had carried David’s casket. Paul had come to our tiny apartment every Christmas with presents for Lily. Paul had held me while I cried, telling me the police would find the hit-and-run driver who destroyed our family.
And he had been the one driving the car.
I fell to my knees, pressing my hands over my mouth to muffle a scream of pure, agonizing betrayal.
“Grace!” Roman dropped to my side, catching my shoulders before I could hit the floor. His strong hands anchored me to reality. “Breathe. Look at me. Just breathe.”
“He came to Lily’s birthdays,” I choked out, tears blinding me. “He bought her those tap shoes. He bought her the shoes!”
Roman’s face contorted with a fury so deep it was terrifying. He looked at Matteo, who was still laughing weakly on the floor, clutching his ruined shoulder.
“You used Paul to do your dirty work,” Roman snarled. “And you kept the photos as insurance.”
“Paul is a weak man,” Matteo gasped. “He had gambling debts too. It was easy to buy him. And he was the one who gave me the idea to forge Grace’s signature on the charity check. He said she was too stupid to notice.”
Roman stood up. He didn't yell. He didn't curse. He simply pulled his cell phone from his pocket and pressed a single button on speed dial.
“Find Paul,” Roman said quietly into the phone. “Bring him to the warehouse. Do not kill him. I want him alive when I get there.”
He hung up and turned to me.
“Grace,” Roman said gently, offering me his hand. “Get Lily. We are leaving the estate.”
“Leaving?” I asked, confused. “But you said the Commission is coming.”
“The Commission will want blood,” Roman explained, helping me to my feet. “When they see the ledgers on this flash drive, they will execute Matteo. But they won't stop there. In our world, a betrayal this deep means purging the entire bloodline. They will come for me. And if you are here, they will kill you and Lily too.”
“You’re going to run?” Matteo laughed, coughing up blood. “The great Roman Bellini, abandoning his throne for a maid?”
Roman looked down at his brother.
“I’m not running,” Roman said coldly. “I’m taking the woman I love to a safe house. And then, I’m going to war.”
I ran into the bedroom, scooped Lily into my arms, and wrapped her in the cashmere blanket. She buried her face in my neck, exhausted and terrified by the gunfire.
Roman led us down the servant’s staircase, bypassing the grand foyer entirely. The mansion was eerily quiet. Roman’s remaining loyal men had already secured the perimeter, waiting for the inevitable arrival of the Syndicate bosses.
We slipped out the back kitchen doors into the freezing Chicago night. A sleek, armored black SUV was idling in the driveway.
Roman opened the back door for me. I slid in, holding Lily tightly.
Before Roman could get into the driver’s seat, the heavy iron gates at the front of the estate suddenly groaned open.
Three massive black Lincolns rolled up the driveway, their headlights cutting through the darkness like predatory eyes.
“They’re early,” Roman swore under his breath.
He slammed my door shut and locked it from the outside. He drew his pistol and stepped in front of our SUV, placing his body between us and the arriving cars.
The Lincolns parked in a semi-circle, boxing us in.
The doors opened simultaneously. A dozen heavily armed men stepped out, flanking an elderly man leaning on a silver-tipped cane.
Don Carmine. The head of the Commission.
Carmine walked slowly toward Roman. The old man’s face was carved from granite, devoid of any warmth.
“Roman,” Carmine rasped, his voice like grinding stones. “We received a very disturbing phone call from your brother ten minutes ago.”
Roman tightened his grip on his gun. “Matteo is a liar and a thief. He stole from the pension fund and murdered an innocent man to cover it up.”
“Matteo told us you were the one stealing,” Carmine said smoothly. “He said you fell in love with a civilian maid, lost your mind, and tried to frame him for your embezzlement. He said you were trying to flee the city right now.”
Carmine pointed his cane at the SUV. He pointed it directly at me.
“Hand over the girl, Roman,” Carmine ordered. “She is a witness to internal syndicate business. She has to be silenced. Do that, and we can discuss your brother’s fate.”
Roman didn't move. He stood perfectly straight, a lone king facing down an army.
“You want her?” Roman said, his voice echoing across the quiet, snowy lawn.
He raised his gun, aiming it dead center at Carmine’s chest.
“You’ll have to kill me first.”
Carmine sighed. He raised his hand, signaling his men.
A dozen rifles aimed directly at Roman.
I screamed from inside the car, hitting the bulletproof glass. “No! Roman, no!”
But before a single shot could be fired, a sudden, blinding spotlight clicked on from the roof of the mansion.
A booming voice echoed through a megaphone.
“FBI! DROP YOUR WEAPONS! YOU ARE SURROUNDED!”
Red and blue sirens flooded the estate. Dozens of tactical vans smashed through the hedges, completely surrounding the syndicate cars.
Carmine froze, his men lowering their weapons in shock.
Roman looked back at me through the glass, a triumphant, ferocious smile on his face.
He held up a small object in his left hand.
It wasn't a gun. It was the black USB drive.
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“I didn't call the Commission,” Roman mouthed to me.
He had called the Feds.
