Chapter 9 - THE BURNED PHOTOGRAPH
“Vanessa, stop!” Vittorio bellowed, leaning over the balcony railing, his gun trained on her. “You burn this house, the police outside will shoot you before you reach the gates!”
Vanessa didn’t even look at him. Her eyes were locked on Nora, burning with a psychotic hatred.
“It doesn’t matter,” Vanessa yelled up. “David stole my birthright! And this little maid thought she could hide his bastard child from me. You lose, Nora. You all lose.”
She lowered her hand, the flame inches from the soaked carpet.
Luca aimed his weapon, but from this angle, shooting her would cause her to drop the lighter directly into the fuel. It was a dead end.
But Nora wasn’t looking at the lighter. She was looking at the heavy brass candlestick resting on the console table beside her.
Without thinking, without hesitating, Nora lunged for it.
Her right hand was burned and bandaged, practically useless. But she had spent nine months serving twenty-four-pound dinner trays with her left hand to hide her injury. Her left arm was strong.
She grabbed the brass candlestick with her left hand, hauled it back, and hurled it over the balcony with everything she had.
The heavy metal spun through the air.
It struck Vanessa squarely in the shoulder just as she released the lighter.
The impact violently knocked Vanessa backward. She shrieked, crashing hard onto the marble floor.
The lighter bounced off her dress, skittering across the dry marble tile, missing the gasoline-soaked rug by less than an inch.
Luca didn’t wait. He vaulted over the banister, dropping ten feet to the landing below, and sprinted down the remaining stairs.
Vanessa scrambled, reaching frantically for the lighter.
Luca kicked it away.
He grabbed Vanessa by the collar of her ruined red gown and slammed her violently against the nearest marble pillar. The police sirens outside blared as the front doors were suddenly kicked completely off their hinges by a SWAT team.
Flashlights blinded them. Laser sights painted Luca’s chest.
“Drop the weapon! Hands in the air!” the police commander roared, stepping into the foyer.
Luca slowly raised his empty hands, holding Vanessa by the scruff of her neck.
“Commander,” Luca said, his voice ringing out clearly over the chaos. “You’re looking for the person responsible for Salvatore Bellini’s murder. You’re looking for the thief.”
Luca reached into his jacket. The SWAT team tensed.
Slowly, using two fingers, Luca pulled out the heavy diamond necklace and dropped it at the commander’s feet. Then, he pulled out the gold pocket watch he had taken from Nora’s room.
“The woman you want is Vanessa Bellini,” Luca stated. “She murdered her father, stole his watch to frame an innocent woman, and just tried to burn this estate to the ground with your officers inside it. I have the video evidence on a drive upstairs.”
The commander looked at the jewelry, then at Vanessa, who was spitting curses, her elegant facade completely shattered.
“Arrest her,” the commander barked.
Officers swarmed Vanessa, dragging her away in handcuffs.
Luca turned and looked up the stairs.
Vittorio Moretti was standing on the balcony, his gun resting on the railing. He looked down at his son, his face aged a decade in the span of an hour.
“I saved your life, Luca,” Vittorio said quietly.
“And I’ll spare yours,” Luca replied. “But you are leaving this country tonight. If you ever set foot in Chicago again, I will give the police the other copy of that video.”
Vittorio slowly lowered his gun. He nodded once, accepting his exile, and disappeared into the shadows of the second floor.
The nightmare was over.
One Month Later.
The sun was shining brightly over the estate’s private gardens. The smell of blooming hydrangeas filled the crisp afternoon air.
Nora sat on a wrought-iron bench beneath the shade of an oak tree. She wasn’t wearing a black uniform. She wore a soft, elegant cream dress, her dark hair falling freely over her shoulders. The bandage on her right hand was gone, leaving only a faint pink scar that was fading every day.
A few yards away, Maya was laughing uncontrollably as she chased a golden retriever puppy across the manicured lawn.
Nora watched her daughter, a profound, overwhelming sense of peace settling over her heart. Maya was safe. She was no longer a secret confined to a tiny room. She was free.
The sound of footsteps on the gravel path made Nora turn.
Luca walked toward her, carrying a silver tray with two cups of tea. He wore a simple navy sweater and slacks, looking entirely relaxed, the heavy burden of his father’s sins finally lifted from his shoulders.
He set the tray on the small table next to the bench and sat down beside her.
“Marco says the trust fund transfers are complete,” Luca said casually, handing her a cup. “Maya’s inheritance from David’s estate is fully secured. Vanessa can never touch it. She’s looking at life without parole.”
“Thank you,” Nora said softly, taking the warm cup. “For everything.”
Luca turned to look at her. His dark eyes, usually so intense, were incredibly soft.
“You don’t have to thank me, Nora,” he said, reaching out to gently trace the fading scar on her right hand. “You saved my life that night just as much as I saved yours.”
Maya suddenly came running up to them, the puppy trailing happily behind her. She climbed directly onto Luca’s lap without a second thought.
“Look!” Maya beamed, holding up a new piece of paper. “I drew a picture for you, Luca.”
Luca smiled, holding the paper up.
It was a drawing of three people holding hands. A tall man. A woman in a pretty dress. And a little girl.
At the bottom of the page, drawn in bright yellow crayon, was a massive, shining sun.
No keys. No shadows. No monsters.
May you like
Luca wrapped his arm around Maya, pulling her close, before reaching his other hand out to lace his fingers perfectly through Nora’s.
“It’s beautiful, Maya,” Luca whispered, looking directly into Nora’s eyes. “It’s exactly what I wanted.”
