Chapter 8 - THE GILDED CAGE
I stared at the medical files in Luca’s hands, the reality of his words hitting me like a physical blow.
"A psychiatric facility?" I repeated, my voice barely a whisper. "But... the car crash. The funeral. Everyone thought she died."
Luca tossed the files onto the desk.
"She didn't die," he said, his voice hollow and exhausted. "She survived the crash. But the trauma... it broke her mind completely. She didn't know who she was. She didn't know who Emma was. She was terrified of her own shadow."
He looked away, staring at the ruined study.
"My father was still alive then. He ruled the family. He told me a boss couldn't have a wife in a padded room. He forced me to fake her death to protect the family's image. He locked her away in a private clinic under a false name."
"And Vanessa knew?" I asked, sickened.
"Vanessa was my father's right hand," Luca explained bitterly, checking the chamber of the pistol. "When he died, she took over the clinic's payments. She used it as leverage to force me into this engagement. She threatened to release the truth to the press—that I faked my wife's death and abandoned her."
"But the ticket to Switzerland?" I pressed.
"A fake," Luca said sharply. "Vanessa has been laying a paper trail to make it look like Elena ran away to Europe with stolen syndicate money. If Vanessa kills me tonight, she'll use those fake tickets to prove Elena is a thief, leaving Emma in her sole custody."
I felt the blood drain from my face.
Vanessa had orchestrated a masterpiece of cruelty.
"We have to stop her," I said, grabbing my ruined cardigan.
Luca looked at me, his dark eyes softening for a fraction of a second.
"You've done enough, Rachel. You saved my life. Now get out of this house before those guards outside realize Russo is unconscious."
"I am not leaving without Emma," I said, my voice hardening into something unrecognizable. "And I'm not leaving the mother cat in the cellar."
Luca stared at me. "The cat survived?"
"She's in the wine cellar. Daniel hid her."
A faint, grim smile touched Luca's bloody lips.
"Then let's go get my daughter."
Luca didn't go for the front doors. He walked to the window, smashed the glass with the butt of his gun, and pulled me out onto the terrace.
We ran through the heavy rain toward the massive garage at the back of the estate.
Luca punched a code into the keypad. The heavy doors rolled up, revealing a fleet of luxury cars.
He threw me the keys to a black Porsche SUV.
"You drive," he ordered. "I need my hands free."
I jumped into the driver's seat. The engine roared to life.
We tore down the driveway. When we reached the front gates, the two guards who had locked me in the shed stepped into the road, raising their rifles.
"Duck!" Luca yelled.
I slammed my foot on the gas and ducked below the dashboard.
Gunfire shattered the windshield, glass raining down on my shoulders, but the heavy armored plating of the SUV held. We smashed through the wrought-iron gates, tearing them off their hinges, and sped onto the dark highway.
"Which airstrip?" I yelled over the roaring wind.
"DuPage," Luca answered, reloading his weapon. "It's the only private runway Vanessa controls."
I pushed the Porsche to a hundred miles an hour. The rain made the roads slick and terrifying, but I didn't lift my foot.
Thirty minutes later, we crashed through the chain-link fence of the small, private airfield.
A sleek white Gulfstream jet was sitting on the tarmac, its engines whining loudly, preparing for takeoff.
Vanessa's black SUV was parked near the boarding stairs.
I slammed on the brakes, the Porsche skidding to a halt just fifty yards from the plane.
Luca kicked his door open before we even stopped.
"Stay in the car!" he barked.
He sprinted across the wet tarmac, raising his gun.
Vanessa's guards opened fire.
The sound was deafening. I screamed, covering my ears as bullets sparked against the concrete.
Luca moved like a ghost, dodging behind fuel carts, returning fire with terrifying accuracy. Two of Vanessa's guards dropped to the ground.
Through the chaos, I saw Vanessa on the boarding stairs, dragging Emma by the arm.
Emma was crying hysterically, clutching the small kitten carrier to her chest.
"Daddy!" Emma screamed.
Vanessa pulled a gun from her designer coat and pointed it directly at the ten-year-old girl's head.
"Drop it, Luca!" Vanessa shrieked over the roar of the jet engines. "Drop the gun, or I blow her brains out right here!"
Luca froze.
He stood in the open, completely exposed to the rain and the remaining guards.
He looked at his crying daughter. He looked at the gun pressed to her temple.
Without a word, Luca dropped his weapon. It clattered against the wet asphalt.
Vanessa smiled triumphantly. "Get on your knees."
Luca slowly lowered himself to the ground.
"You lose, Luca," Vanessa yelled, her hair whipping wildly in the wind. "I'm taking her. And my men are going to execute you on this runway."
She turned to her remaining guard. "Kill him."
The guard raised his assault rifle, aiming directly at Luca's chest.
I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think.
I slammed my foot onto the gas pedal.
The Porsche roared, tires screaming against the wet tarmac.
I didn't aim for the guards. I aimed straight for the boarding stairs.
Vanessa turned, her eyes widening in pure horror as two tons of black metal hurtled toward her.
She screamed, dropping Emma's arm, and dove out of the way just as the SUV smashed into the aluminum stairs.
The impact deployed my airbags, punching the air from my lungs.
When the white smoke cleared, I kicked my door open and stumbled out.
Vanessa was on the ground, scrambling for her dropped gun.
But before she could reach it, a heavy, blood-stained boot stepped on her wrist.
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It wasn't Luca.
It was Marco, holding his bleeding side with one hand, and aiming a revolver directly at Vanessa's head with the other.
