Chapter 6 - THE HOUSEKEEPER'S GAMBIT
The industrial kitchen was dead silent, save for the low hum of the massive refrigerators.
I stared at my mother. She looked terrified, clutching the thin fabric of her hospital gown, her eyes darting between me and the silver revolver Vanessa held inches from her head.
“Mom,” I whispered, my voice breaking.
“Maria, please,” she cried softly. “I don't know what’s happening.”
“Shut up,” Vanessa snapped, pressing the barrel closer to my mother’s temple.
The kitchen doors swung open behind me. Luca and Enzo stepped in. When Luca saw my mother in the wheelchair, his jaw clenched so hard I thought his teeth would shatter.
“Let her go, Vanessa,” Luca said, his voice a low, vibrating threat. “This is between you and me. The maid has nothing to do with it.”
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
“She ruined everything!” Vanessa screamed, her perfect facade completely shattered. “If she hadn't brought those lunchboxes inside, you never would have talked to that old nurse! You never would have found the ring!”
“Your greed ruined everything,” Enzo said calmly, leaning heavily on his good leg, the shotgun resting casually against his hip. “You got greedy, Vanessa. You drained the foundation too fast.”
Vanessa glared at Enzo, clearly shocked he was alive, but the gun in her hand didn't waver.
“My father’s men are at the gates,” Vanessa said, backing slowly toward the rear delivery exit, dragging the wheelchair with her. “You are going to open those gates, Luca. You are going to sign the marriage contract. Or I blow her mother’s brains out right here on your expensive tile floor.”
My chest heaved. I looked at Luca.
He was powerful, but he was trapped. If he signed the contract, the Bellini family would own him. If he didn't, my mother would die.
I had spent my entire life keeping my head down. Cleaning messes. Following orders.
But the woman in that wheelchair had worked three jobs to keep me fed when my father died. She had broken her back to give me a life.
I was done keeping my head down.
“Vanessa,” I said, taking a slow step forward.
“Stay back!” she shrieked, aiming the gun directly at me.
“You don't want to shoot her,” I said, keeping my voice surprisingly steady. I held my hands up, palms open. “If you shoot her, Luca’s men will kill you before you reach the door. You’ll never get the money.”
Vanessa hesitated, her eyes darting toward Enzo’s shotgun.
“I know about the offshore accounts, Vanessa,” I lied smoothly.
Luca didn't react, but I saw the slight narrowing of his eyes. He knew I was bluffing, but he let me play it.
“What accounts?” Vanessa demanded.
“The ones Dominic set up in the Caymans,” I continued, taking another slow step. “I clean the study every night. I saw the bank statements in the shredder pile. I know the account numbers.”
Vanessa’s greed flared, overriding her panic.
“Give them to me.”
“Let my mother go first.”
“Write them down!” she screamed, waving the gun at a notepad on the counter.
I walked over to the counter. I picked up a heavy black marker.
But I didn't write numbers.
I wrote two words: THE SPRINKLERS.
I subtly turned the pad so only Luca and Enzo could see it.
Enzo caught it instantly. His eyes shifted toward the ceiling.
This kitchen was equipped with an industrial-grade fire suppression system. It wasn't water. It was high-pressure, blinding chemical foam designed to smother grease fires instantly. And the manual override lever was directly behind Vanessa, mounted on the wall.
“I can't remember the last four digits,” I stammered, acting panicked. “They’re in my apron pocket.”
I reached into my apron, pulling out the massive brass ring of master keys.
“Give them to me!” Vanessa demanded.
“Catch,” I said.
I threw the heavy ring of keys directly at her face.
Vanessa flinched instinctively, raising her hands to block the heavy brass from hitting her eyes.
In that split second, the gun moved away from my mother’s head.
Enzo didn't shoot Vanessa.
He shot the wall right behind her.
The shotgun blast obliterated the glass casing of the manual fire override lever.
Instantly, the ceiling erupted.
A deafening hiss filled the room as thick, blinding white foam blasted downward at incredible pressure.
Vanessa screamed as the foam hit her, momentarily blinding her. She fired wildly, the bullet ricocheting harmlessly off a stainless steel refrigerator.
Before she could aim again, Luca lunged through the thick foam.
He hit her with the force of a freight train, tackling her to the wet, slippery floor. He ripped the revolver from her hand and tossed it across the kitchen.
I didn't care about the fight. I dove toward the wheelchair.
I grabbed the handles and yanked my mother backward, pulling her out of the foam and into the safety of the dry hallway.
“Mom! Are you okay?” I cried, wiping the chemical foam from her face.
She was coughing, but she gripped my hands tightly. “I’m okay, Maria. I’m okay.”
I looked back into the kitchen.
The foam was settling. Luca was standing over Vanessa, who was coughing and crying on the floor, her expensive red dress ruined.
Enzo stood by the door, completely dry, a smirk on his face.
“Nice throw, kid,” Enzo said, winking at me.
Luca pulled Vanessa to her feet by her hair.
“You’re going to walk out those gates,” Luca growled in her ear. “You’re going to tell your father the wedding is canceled because you were caught stealing. If you mention one word about Dominic or the ledger, I will find you.”
He shoved her toward his guards.
“Get her out of my house.”
As the guards dragged a sobbing Vanessa away, Luca turned to me.
He didn't look like a boss. He looked genuinely shaken.
He walked over to my mother, kneeling in front of her wheelchair.
“Mrs. Collins,” Luca said softly. “I am so incredibly sorry. You will never be in danger again. I swear it on my life.”
My mother, a woman who had never met a mafia boss in her life, simply patted his cheek.
“You’re a good boy, Luca,” she smiled.
Luca looked up at me.
“Maria,” he said.
“Yes, sir?”
“Take your mother to the east wing guest suite. Rest. You’re done working tonight.”
I nodded, gripping the wheelchair handles.
But before I could leave, Enzo’s radio buzzed.
“Sir, the Bellini SUVs are leaving. But we have another problem.”
May you like
Luca grabbed the radio. “What now?”
“It’s Dominic, sir. The men taking him to the basement… he killed them. He escaped.”
