Chapter 6 - THE GODFATHER'S BETRAYAL
"Open the door, Hannah."
Marcus’s voice sent a jolt of pure terror through my spine.
Noah grabbed my arm, his whole body trembling.
"Miss Hannah, that's Uncle Marcus."
"Shh," I whispered, pulling him silently toward the back of the boathouse, behind a massive wooden boat cradle.
BANG.
Something heavy struck the steel door again.
"I know you're in there," Marcus said. The calm in his voice was worse than anger. "Luca's men are busy at the front gate. No one is coming for you."
I clutched the photograph and the bank statements to my chest.
Marcus Thorne.
He was the lawyer who drafted Caroline's will.
He was the one who managed the Moretti family finances.
He knew exactly how to trigger the trust fund clause.
"Noah," I whispered, my lips brushing his ear. "I need you to be as quiet as a mouse. Do not make a sound."
He nodded, tears spilling down his cheeks.
CRASH.
The high, dirty window near the ceiling shattered.
Glass rained down onto the concrete floor.
A flashlight beam cut through the darkness, sweeping across the boathouse.
"I have the court order, Hannah!" Marcus yelled through the broken window. "I am legally the executor of the estate if Luca is deemed unfit. And a shootout at his home makes him very unfit. Hand over the boy, and I'll let you walk away."
I didn't answer.
I looked around desperately for a weapon.
There was nothing but old ropes, rusty tools, and an outboard motor covered in a tarp.
I picked up a heavy metal wrench from a workbench.
"I don't want to hurt you, Hannah!" Marcus called out. "But if I have to blow the hinges off this door, I can't guarantee you won't catch a stray bullet."
He was going to kill us both.
He couldn't leave witnesses. Not now.
I looked down at Noah.
He was holding his white cane, his thumb rubbing the blue star.
He was so small. So innocent.
I wasn't going to let this monster take him.
"Uncle Marcus!"
I froze.
Noah had shouted.
"Noah, no!" I hissed.
"Uncle Marcus, I'm here!" Noah yelled, stepping out from behind the boat cradle.
The flashlight beam instantly snapped onto him.
"Noah, good boy," Marcus said, his voice dripping with fake relief. "Tell the maid to unlock the door. I've come to take you somewhere safe."
"You put the dark in my eyes!" Noah screamed.
The boathouse went dead silent.
The flashlight beam wavered.
"What did you say?" Marcus asked, his voice dropping its friendly facade.
"Mommy left a tape," Noah yelled, his chin trembling, but his voice echoing off the stone walls. "She said you and Vanessa made me blind to steal my money!"
I held my breath.
Noah had just signed our death warrants.
But he had also distracted Marcus.
"You little brat," Marcus snarled. "Blow the lock!"
I heard the unmistakable sound of a heavy explosive charge being slapped against the steel door.
"Get down!" I screamed, tackling Noah to the concrete floor and covering his body with mine.
BOOM.
The explosion deafened me.
The heavy steel door blew inward, crashing against the floor in a cloud of smoke, dust, and rain.
Three men stepped into the boathouse, assault rifles raised.
Marcus walked in behind them, wearing a tailored trench coat, stepping carefully over the debris.
He looked down at us.
"Take the boy. Shoot the maid."
One of the men raised his rifle, aiming directly at my head.
I closed my eyes and hugged Noah tight.
But the gunshot that rang out didn't come from the man in front of me.
The man's head snapped forward, and he collapsed to the floor.
Marcus spun around.
Standing in the blowing rain, silhouetted by the lightning flashing across the lake, was Luca Moretti.
His suit jacket was gone. His white shirt was stained with blood.
He held a handgun in each hand.
"You always were a coward, Marcus," Luca said, his voice colder than the storm.
Marcus panicked. "Kill him!" he screamed at his remaining men.
But before they could pull their triggers, the shadows around the boathouse came alive.
Luca's men poured out of the darkness, laser sights cutting through the smoke.
In less than three seconds, Marcus's men were on the ground, disarmed and bleeding.
Marcus dropped his gun. He raised his hands.
"Luca. Brother. Wait."
Luca walked slowly into the boathouse.
He didn't look at the men on the floor. He didn't look at Marcus.
He walked straight to me and Noah.
He dropped to his knees, dropping his guns, and pulled us both into his arms.
Not just Noah.
He pulled me in, too.
His hands were shaking as he buried his face in Noah's hair.
"I've got you," Luca whispered. "You're safe. Both of you."
I sobbed, the adrenaline finally crashing.
Luca stood up.
He picked up one of his guns.
He turned to the man who had been his best friend.
"Luca, please," Marcus begged, backing up until he hit the stone wall. "Vanessa manipulated me. She got greedy—"
"I found the lockbox, Mr. Moretti," I said, my voice cutting through the rain.
I stood up, holding out the photograph and the bank statements.
"He's been siphoning the trust for three years. He and Vanessa planned everything."
Luca didn't even look at the papers.
He stared dead into Marcus's eyes.
"You blinded my son."
Marcus began to weep. "Luca, I'm sorry."
Luca raised his gun and pointed it directly at Marcus's chest.
May you like
"Daddy, don't."
Noah's small voice stopped Luca's finger on the trigger.
