Chapter 7 - THE TARGET
The words hit the air like a physical blow.
"Elena?" Dominic repeated, the color completely draining from his face.
Frankie let out a wet, rattling cough, sliding further down the stone wall.
"Your father wasn't supposed to be in that car," Frankie wheezed, pressing a bloody hand over the gunshot wound in his shoulder. "Elena was. She was driving to the city to sign the adoption papers for Leo. Someone wanted her dead before she could make the boy a legal Marino."
Dominic’s mind raced, connecting the terrifying dots.
Answer one: Vincenzo Marino’s death was a tragic mistake. He had taken his daughter's car at the last minute. The intended target had always been Elena.
Open two: Who hated Elena enough to want her dead before the adoption, and why did they want the boy left orphaned?
"Who?" Dominic roared, grabbing Frankie by the collar of his ruined suit and hauling him upward. "Who gave the order?!"
Frankie grinned, his teeth stained crimson. "You're a smart guy, Boss. Who benefits the most if Elena dies and the bastard boy goes to a state orphanage?"
Before Frankie could utter the name, the heavy wooden doors of the greenhouse burst open.
Three Chicago police officers rushed in, their weapons drawn, flashlights cutting through the dark. Behind them stood Elena, shivering and terrified, having flagged down a passing patrol car after we left her.
"Drop the weapons!" the lead officer shouted.
Dominic instantly released Frankie and placed his gun on the ground, raising his hands. He was a mafia boss, but he wasn't stupid enough to shoot a cop.
I grabbed Leo, pulling him into a tight hug as Elena ran across the room, falling to her knees and sobbing as she buried her face in her son’s neck.
"Mommy," Leo cried, wrapping his small arms around her. "I was brave. Like you said."
"I know, my sweet boy. I know," Elena wept.
The officers quickly secured the room. They handcuffed the unconscious Don Vitiello and the groaning Frankie, calling for ambulances and backup.
An hour later, the greenhouse was a crime scene. Yellow tape fluttered in the freezing rain. Sabrina’s body had been covered with a tarp.
Dominic stood near the police cruisers, speaking quietly with Detective Miller, the cop on his payroll.
I stood under an umbrella with Elena and Leo, wrapping my coat around the shivering boy.
Dominic walked over to us. He looked exhausted, the weight of the night pressing heavily on his broad shoulders.
"Miller is taking Vitiello and Frankie into custody," Dominic said quietly. "Vitiello is going away for life on kidnapping charges. Frankie will bleed out in a prison hospital."
He looked at his sister. His eyes were softer than I had ever seen them.
"Elena," Dominic whispered. "Frankie told me the truth. He told me the bomb three years ago was meant for you."
Elena gasped, covering her mouth. "For me? Why?"
"Because someone didn't want you adopting Leo. Someone wanted the Marino bloodline to end with me. And they knew I would never have children with Sabrina."
"Who?" Elena asked, terrified.
Dominic looked toward the grand mansion glowing in the distance. The engagement dinner guests had long since fled, leaving the massive house empty.
"I don't know yet," Dominic said grimly. "But Frankie dropped this."
He held up a small, gold key.
"It's a safety deposit box key," Dominic explained. "Frankie said his 'employer' gave it to him as a down payment. If we find out what this opens, we find out who ordered the hit."
He looked at me. "Claire. Take Elena and Leo back to the house. Lock yourselves in the master suite. Do not open the door for anyone but me."
"Where are you going?" I asked, a sudden fear gripping my chest.
"To the bank. I own the manager. I'm opening this box tonight."
Dominic turned and walked to his car, disappearing into the rainy night.
I drove Elena and Leo back to the mansion. The grand halls were eerily silent, littered with half-empty champagne glasses and discarded napkins from the ruined engagement party.
We hurried upstairs to Dominic's master suite. I locked the heavy oak door and bolted it.
Elena put Leo into the massive king-sized bed, tucking the heavy duvet around him. Exhausted from the trauma, the boy fell asleep almost instantly.
Elena sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall.
"It's over, Elena," I said softly, pouring her a glass of water from the nightstand carafe. "Dominic will find whoever did this. You're safe now."
Elena took the water, her hands trembling. "Claire... Sabrina said my father forced her to give Leo up."
"Yes."
Elena looked up at me, her eyes filled with a fresh, horrifying realization.
"But my father didn't know about Sabrina's affair with Marco," Elena whispered. "He couldn't have known."
I frowned. "Why not?"
Elena reached into her purse and pulled out a faded, folded piece of paper. It was an old medical report.
"Because Marco died of leukemia six months before Leo was conceived," Elena said, her voice shaking.
A massive reversal. Leo couldn't be Marco's son.
"Then whose son is he?" I asked, my heart pounding.
Elena looked toward the bedroom door.
"He's Dominic's," a voice said from the shadows of the room.
I spun around.
Standing in the corner of the master suite, holding a silenced pistol, was the one person we had completely forgotten about.
May you like
Sabrina's father. Don DeLuca.
And around his neck hung a gold chain bearing the exact same crest as the bracelet we found at the harbor.
