Chapter 6 - THE THIEF AT THE FRONT DOOR
The sound of automatic weapons shattered the quiet elegance of the estate.
Dante reacted instantly. He shoved me behind his massive frame, drawing a sleek black handgun from a shoulder holster hidden beneath his suit jacket.
"They breached the gate," Dante growled, locking the cell door, trapping Vivienne inside with her own terror.
He grabbed my hand, his grip firm and warm. "We have to get you to the safe room."
We ran up the basement stairs. The grand foyer above was in absolute chaos. The massive oak front doors were splintering under heavy fire from the driveway. Dante’s security men were returning fire from behind the marble pillars, the deafening noise echoing off the vaulted ceilings.
The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder and shattered plaster.
"Marco!" Dante roared over the gunfire.
Marco slid across the marble floor, taking cover behind a shattered priceless vase. "There's twenty of them, Boss! Heavily armed. They drove a reinforced truck right through the iron gates."
"Hold the line," Dante ordered. He looked at me. "Come on."
He pulled me toward the grand staircase. We needed to reach the third floor where the panic room was hidden behind the master suite. But my body was betraying me. The adrenaline and fear triggered a sharp, agonizing cramp in my abdomen.
I gasped, stumbling on the first step, clutching the banister.
"Caroline!" Dante caught me before my knees hit the marble.
"It hurts," I sobbed, wrapping my arms around my belly. "The baby."
Dante cursed under his breath. He didn't hesitate. He scooped me up into his arms, carrying me effortlessly up the stairs. His chest was solid, his heartbeat steady against my cheek. Even in the middle of a warzone, he made me feel incredibly safe.
We reached the second-floor landing just as the front doors downstairs gave way with a deafening crash.
"Cease fire!" a voice yelled from the foyer.
The shooting stopped abruptly, leaving a ringing silence in its wake.
Dante set me down gently in the shadows of the balcony, keeping himself between me and the railing. He peered over the edge, his gun raised.
I looked through the marble balusters.
Standing in the center of the ruined foyer, flanked by a dozen heavily armed Moretti cartel men, was my husband.
Mark Hayes looked completely out of place. He was wearing a cheap leather jacket over a wrinkled button-down shirt. He was sweating, his eyes wide and manic, holding a gun that looked too big for his trembling hands.
And tucked under his left arm was the wooden music box my father had built for me.
"Dante Romano!" Mark yelled, his voice echoing up to the high ceilings. "I know you're up there! I have the box. I just need the key!"
Dante didn't answer. He signaled to Marco, who was holding position behind the sweeping staircase.
"You think you can just walk into my house and take what's mine?" Dante's voice boomed from the shadows, cold and detached.
Mark flinched at the sound, aiming his gun blindly upward. "It's not yours! It's Arthur's! And since I married his daughter, it belongs to me!"
"You abandoned his daughter," Dante replied, stepping slightly into the light, though he kept me hidden. "You sold her out for a fraction of what that box is worth."
"Vivienne lowballed me!" Mark shouted defensively. "When I realized what was really inside this box, I knew I didn't need her. I don't need you either, Dante. The Morettis are backing me now. Hand over the key, and we walk out of here. Keep it, and we kill everyone."
I felt sick to my stomach. The man who had held my hand during our first ultrasound was standing in my new home, threatening to murder the only people who had actually protected me.
"You're a coward, Mark," I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
Mark froze. He looked up at the balcony.
"Caroline?" Mark called out, a sickeningly sweet tone slipping into his voice. "Baby, is that you?"
I stood up, pushing past Dante despite his attempt to hold me back. I gripped the marble railing, glaring down at the man who had broken my heart.
"Don't call me that," I said, my voice shaking with pure rage.
Mark smiled, running a hand through his hair. "Look at you. Living in a mansion. I told you I'd come back for you when I had the money, didn't I? Toss down the key, Carrie. We can finally be a real family. Richer than God."
"You left me with nothing!" I screamed, tears of fury burning my eyes. "You left me pregnant and starving!"
"I'm here now!" Mark yelled, raising his gun toward the balcony. "Give me the damn key, Caroline, or I'll come up there and cut it out of your hand!"
Before Mark could take a step, the slow, mechanical whir of an electric wheelchair echoed from the hallway to our right.
Everyone looked up.
Henry Romano rolled himself out of the shadows, stopping at the edge of the balcony. In his frail, wrinkled hand, he held the heavy gold pocket watch.
"You want the key, boy?" Henry asked, his voice dripping with aristocratic disgust.
Mark’s eyes locked onto the watch. Greed washed over his face. "Toss it down, old man."
May you like
Henry looked at Dante. He gave his son a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
Then, Henry extended his arm over the railing and let the gold pocket watch slip from his fingers.
