Chapter 8 - The Final Standoff
The glowing screen of the laptop illuminated the dark hotel room, casting harsh shadows across Agent Harris’s face.
I stared at the paused video, my hand clamped over my mouth to stifle a scream.
Roman Bellini. The man who had protected me, the man who had risked his life to save my daughter, the man who had whispered that he loved me... had murdered his own father in cold blood.
“My God,” I breathed, stumbling backward until I hit the wall. “He killed him. Roman took over the syndicate by assassinating his own father.”
Agent Harris closed the laptop with a sharp snap. His face was unreadable.
“This changes everything,” Harris said flatly. “Roman cut a deal with us for immunity by giving up his brother and the Commission. But immunity doesn’t cover patricide. This video is a first-degree murder confession.”
“Why would David have this?” I asked, my voice shaking uncontrollably.
“David was the syndicate’s chief accountant,” Harris explained. “He must have been digging into the hospital’s financial payoffs when he found the security footage. Matteo probably found out David had it, and ordered Paul to run him off the road to protect Roman.”
My stomach churned violently. It was all a web of lies. Roman wasn’t a savior. He was a monster who had played me perfectly. He knew David had hidden the evidence, and he kept me close to ensure he found it before I did.
“I need to arrest him,” Harris said, grabbing his radio. “I’m calling the holding facility to revoke his immunity.”
Harris turned his back to me to speak into his radio.
As he did, my eyes fell on the silver pocket watch sitting on the table. The watch Roman had found at the gala. His father’s watch.
I picked it up. The cracked glass. The heavy silver casing.
Suddenly, a memory flashed in my mind.
Lily backstage at the gala. Pointing at the watch. “That’s the ticking man’s watch. He had a scar on his hand.”
Matteo had the watch. Matteo was the ticking man who threatened David.
But Roman’s father had supposedly lost the watch the night he died in the hospital.
If Roman killed his father, why would Matteo have the watch?
I looked back at the closed laptop. I closed my eyes and pictured the grainy security footage. The man in the suit turning off the ventilator.
The man in the video had reached out with his right hand.
And across his knuckle was a faint, white scar.
“Stop!” I yelled, grabbing Agent Harris’s arm before he could speak into the radio.
Harris frowned. “Grace, let go. I have to report this.”
“It wasn’t Roman in the video!” I said frantically. “Look again! Look at the hand!”
Harris sighed, clearly annoyed, but he opened the laptop and scrubbed the video back to the moment the killer reached for the machine. He zoomed in on the grainy pixels.
There it was. A white scar across the knuckle.
“Matteo,” Harris whispered.
“Matteo killed their father,” I said, the pieces finally aligning. “Roman didn’t know. Matteo took the watch off his father’s dead body. David found the footage, and Matteo had David killed to cover it up!”
Harris stared at the screen, the color draining from his face. “If Matteo killed the old Don... then he didn’t just steal money. He committed treason against the bloodline.”
Suddenly, the hotel room door exploded inward with a deafening crash.
Wood splintered everywhere. Harris reached for his gun, but before he could clear his holster, two massive men in tactical gear burst into the room.
A silenced pistol fired twice. Thwip. Thwip.
Agent Harris collapsed to the floor, blood pooling beneath his chest.
I screamed, throwing myself over Lily, who woke up shrieking in terror.
The two men didn’t wear FBI windbreakers. They wore dark suits. Syndicate cleaners.
And walking in behind them, holding a bloody bandage to his shattered shoulder, was Matteo Bellini.
“Hello, Grace,” Matteo sneered, stepping over the dying federal agent. “Did you really think Roman calling the Feds would stop me? The Commission owns half the agents in this city.”
He looked at the laptop on the desk, then at the broken tap shoe in my hand.
“I see you found David’s little insurance policy,” Matteo laughed darkly. “Such a clever accountant. But ultimately, a dead one.”
“You killed your own father,” I sobbed, clutching Lily so tightly she whimpered. “You killed David. Roman is going to destroy you for this.”
Matteo’s smile vanished. His face twisted into a mask of pure, jealous hatred.
“Roman got everything!” Matteo screamed, kicking the hotel desk so hard the laptop crashed to the floor. “He got the throne, the respect, the money! And what did I get? I got to clean up his messes! I had to kill the old man because he was going to give the syndicate to the Rossi family! I saved our empire!”
He raised his gun, pointing it directly at my head.
“But it doesn’t matter now,” Matteo breathed, his eyes manic. “I bought my freedom from the Commission. I just have to bring them Roman’s head. And to get Roman... I need bait.”
He gestured to his men.
The two thugs lunged forward. One grabbed me by the hair, ripping me away from the bed. I kicked and scratched like a wild animal, screaming at the top of my lungs.
The other thug grabbed Lily.
“MOM!” Lily shrieked, kicking her small legs as the massive man hoisted her over his shoulder.
“Let her go!” I roared, biting the hand of the man holding me. He backhanded me across the face, sending me crashing into the wall. My vision blurred, copper tasting sharp in my mouth.
May you like
Matteo walked over and grabbed me by the throat, pulling me up until we were eye-to-eye.
“You’re coming with us to the docks,” Matteo whispered. “We’re going to call Roman. And we’re going to see just how much he’s willing to sacrifice for the maid.”
