Chapter 7 - THE GRAND BALCONY
“No!” I screamed, pushing myself up from the marble floor.
I didn't care that my knees were bruised or that my hands were shaking. I wasn't going to let another motherless child be destroyed by this family's greed.
I sprinted toward the open front doors, plunging into the freezing New York night.
The estate grounds were chaotic. In the distance, police sirens wailed, finally responding to the gunfire from the dining room. Red and blue lights flickered faintly against the tree line at the bottom of the long driveway.
Isabella wasn't running toward the gates. She knew the police would arrest her immediately.
She was dragging Mia up the sweeping stone staircase that led to the estate’s massive wrap-around balcony, trying to reach the helipad on the roof.
“Isabella, stop!” I yelled, taking the stone steps two at a time, my lungs burning in the cold air.
Isabella reached the second-floor balcony. She spun around, realizing she couldn't drag a struggling seven-year-old up three more flights of stairs before I caught her.
She backed up against the heavy stone balustrade, holding Mia firmly against her side.
“Stay back, maid!” Isabella shrieked, the wind whipping her dark hair wildly around her face. “I have the ring! I have the power! If you take one more step, I’ll throw her over the edge!”
I stopped dead in my tracks, ten feet away. The drop behind Isabella was at least forty feet down to the stone patio below.
“You have the ring,” I panted, holding my hands up, trying to keep my voice calm. “You won. You don't need her, Isabella. Let her go.”
“She’s a Romano!” Isabella spat, her eyes manic. “Her blood is poison! My grandfather died in a prison cell because of this family! I’m going to end the bloodline tonight!”
“Isabella!”
Vincent’s voice thundered from the stairs behind me.
He emerged onto the balcony, his white shirt stained with blood from his shoulder, his face a mask of absolute terror and rage. He had left Marcus unconscious in the hallway.
“Let my daughter go,” Vincent ordered, his voice vibrating with lethal intent.
“I told you to stay back!” Isabella screamed, shifting her grip and pushing Mia slightly backward over the heavy stone railing.
Mia squeezed her eyes shut, sobbing quietly, clutching her torn stuffed rabbit to her chest.
“Okay! We’re stopping!” Vincent said frantically, raising his hands, halting beside me. “We aren't moving. Just bring her back onto the solid stone, Isabella. Please.”
It was the first time I had ever heard Vincent Romano beg. The untouchable Mafia boss was completely broken, brought to his knees by the love for his child.
Isabella smiled, drinking in his desperation.
“It’s poetic, really,” Isabella sneered. “You took my family's legacy. Now I take yours.”
I looked at the stone balcony. I looked at the shadows.
I knew this house better than anyone. I spent eighteen months cleaning every inch of it. I knew that the heavy stone planter resting on the ledge directly behind Isabella wasn't secured to the wall.
I caught Mia’s eye.
The little girl looked at me, her dark eyes wide with terror.
I gave her a tiny, almost imperceptible nod, shifting my gaze down to the stuffed rabbit in her hands.
Mia understood. She was a quiet child, but she was incredibly smart.
Suddenly, Mia opened her mouth and sank her teeth directly into Isabella’s hand.
“Agh!” Isabella shrieked, her grip loosening in shock.
At the exact same second, Mia threw the stuffed rabbit directly into Isabella’s face, momentarily blinding her.
It was the only window I had.
I lunged forward, closing the ten-foot gap in a heartbeat. I didn't reach for Mia. I hit Isabella with the force of a linebacker, slamming my shoulder directly into her midsection.
The impact knocked the breath out of her. Isabella stumbled backward, releasing Mia completely.
Vincent was there in a flash. He grabbed Mia, pulling her into his massive arms, wrapping himself completely around her and falling backward onto the safe, solid stone of the balcony.
But my momentum carried me forward.
Isabella shrieked, her hands blindly grabbing for anything to stop her fall. Her fingers tangled tightly in the collar of my dress.
We both crashed hard against the stone balustrade.
The heavy stone planter behind us wobbled, then cracked under our combined weight.
Isabella slipped, her feet leaving the stone floor. She tumbled backward over the railing, pulling me with her.
“Lily!” Vincent screamed.
My stomach dropped as gravity took hold.
My hands scrambled wildly against the rough stone. My fingers caught the edge of the balustrade, the rough concrete biting into my skin.
I slammed hard against the outside of the balcony wall, dangling forty feet in the air.
Isabella was screaming, dangling below me, her hands gripping the fabric of my dress with a death grip. Her weight was dragging me down, tearing the fabric, pulling my fingers slowly off the ledge.
“Help me!” Isabella shrieked, looking down at the terrifying drop. “Pull me up!”
“I can’t hold you!” I gasped, my muscles burning, my fingers slipping millimeter by millimeter.
Suddenly, a massive, blood-stained hand clamped down around my wrist like a vice.
I looked up.
Vincent was leaning entirely over the railing, his face pale, his arm bulging with exertion as he gripped my arm.
“I’ve got you,” Vincent grunted, his eyes locked onto mine with fierce determination. “I’m not letting you fall, Lily.”
He pulled, his immense strength fighting against the combined weight of two women.
Below me, Isabella screamed in panic as the fabric of my dress began to rip.
“No! Don't let me go!” Isabella cried, her manicured nails digging into my leg now, trying to climb up my body.
As she shifted her weight, something fell from the pocket of her torn coat.
A heavy, worn leather object.
It tumbled through the air, hitting the stone ledge inches from my face before bouncing.
I didn't think. I released my other hand from the ledge and caught it against my chest just as it slipped over the edge.
At that exact moment, the fabric of my dress gave way completely.
Isabella shrieked, a terrifying, echoing sound, as she plummeted into the darkness.
A sickening, heavy thud echoed from the stone patio below.
Then, absolute silence.
Vincent roared with effort, pulling me up over the railing and collapsing backward with me onto the cold stone balcony.
I lay there, gasping for air, trembling violently, staring up at the cloudy night sky.
Vincent scrambled over to me, hovering over my face. “Lily! Are you hurt? Talk to me!”
“I’m okay,” I rasped, sitting up slowly, my arms feeling like they were made of lead.
Mia ran over, burying herself in my lap, crying softly. I wrapped my arms around her, burying my face in her dark curls.
We had survived.
Vincent let out a long, shaky breath, resting his forehead against his knees.
As I held Mia, I looked down at the object I had caught when Isabella fell.
It was a worn, leather-bound book.
A diary.
I flipped it open, looking at the elegant handwriting inside.
“Vincent,” I whispered, my voice shaking as I read the name inscribed on the first page.
He looked up.
“This is Elena’s diary,” I said.
I turned to the final page, the entry written on the exact day she died.
I read the words, and the blood ran completely cold in my veins.
“Vincent,” I breathed, looking up at him in horror. “Isabella didn't just want the money. She didn't forge the deed transfer.”
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Vincent frowned, confusion washing over his face. “What do you mean? How could she transfer the properties without my signature?”
“Because,” I read, my voice trembling as I showed him the final page of his wife’s diary, “she didn't forge it. Elena signed the properties over to the Conti family three years ago.”
