Chapter 8 - THE DEED
The phone line went dead.
The yacht bobbed in the freezing waters of Lake Michigan, the engines idling uselessly in the fog.
Luca stared at the blank screen of his phone, the realization hitting him with the force of a freight train.
Daniel.
The man who had stood by his side for eight years. The man who had coordinated the security at the engagement party. The man who had sent him on this wild goose chase to the Morano hospital while Clara slipped out the back door.
"What did she say?" Lucy asked, limping into the stateroom, her hands gripping the doorframe to stay upright. "Luca, where is he?"
Luca couldn't lie to her. Not anymore.
"Clara has him," Luca said, his voice heavy. "And she has Daniel."
Lucy’s face completely crumbled. She slid down the doorframe, collapsing onto the plush carpet of the stateroom, burying her face in her hands.
"I can't," she sobbed, a sound of pure, unadulterated defeat. "I tried so hard. I hid for six years. I scrubbed floors. I bled. And they still took him."
Luca walked over and crouiled down in front of her. He didn't offer empty platitudes. He didn't tell her it would be okay.
He reached out and gently tilted her chin up, forcing her tear-filled eyes to meet his.
"You hid for six years because you were alone, Lucy," Luca said fiercely. "You aren't alone anymore."
She blinked, the tears momentarily stopping at the absolute conviction in his dark eyes.
"I am going to get your son back," Luca vowed. "Even if I have to burn my own empire to the ground to do it."
He stood up, pulling her with him.
They navigated the yacht back to the pier, docking it clumsily. Luca didn't care about the boat. He threw the keys to a stunned harbor master and dragged Lucy back to the bullet-riddled SUV.
He drove back to the Moretti estate in absolute silence.
The mansion was eerily quiet when they arrived. The engagement party guests were long gone. The caterers had fled.
The grand foyer, which had been the site of so much deception earlier that evening, was empty, save for the shattered champagne glass still lying on the marble floor.
Luca walked straight to his private study. He unlocked the heavy mahogany doors and strode over to the massive wall safe hidden behind an oil painting.
He spun the dial, pulled the heavy steel door open, and reached inside.
He didn't pull out a weapon.
He pulled out a thick, legal document wrapped in a leather binder.
The deed to the Moretti estate.
"You're actually going to give it to her?" Lucy asked, standing in the doorway, shivering in her damp uniform.
"She wants the estate," Luca said, throwing the binder onto his desk. "She wants the power that comes with owning the center of my syndicate. So I’m going to give her exactly what she asked for."
He pulled a gold fountain pen from his breast pocket and quickly scrawled his signature across the bottom line.
Then, he picked up his phone and dialed Daniel’s number.
It rang twice before Daniel answered.
"Boss," Daniel said, his voice surprisingly calm.
"Where are you, Daniel?" Luca asked.
"The old paper mill on the South Side," Daniel replied. "Clara said to tell you to come alone. Bring the deed. If she sees a single car following you, she’ll drop the kid into the vats."
"I’ll be there in twenty minutes," Luca said, and hung up.
He looked at Lucy. "Stay here. Lock the doors."
"No," Lucy said firmly, taking a step into the room. "He’s my son. I’m coming with you."
"Lucy, you can barely walk."
"I don't care if I have to crawl, Luca. I am not sitting in this mansion while that psychopath holds a gun to my baby’s head."
Luca stared at the fierce, unyielding determination in her brown eyes. The quiet, submissive maid was gone. In her place was a mother willing to walk through hell.
He nodded once.
"Take this," Luca said, reaching back into the safe and pulling out a small, compact handgun. He handed it to her. "Safety is off. If anyone comes near you, shoot."
They drove to the South Side. The old paper mill was a towering, decaying monstrosity of brick and rusted steel, sitting on the edge of the river.
Luca parked the SUV a block away.
They walked the rest of the distance through the freezing rain.
Inside the mill, the smell of damp paper and rust was overpowering. The cavernous main floor was lit by a few flickering emergency lights.
At the center of the room, standing on a raised metal catwalk above a massive, empty industrial vat, was Clara.
She was no longer wearing the red gown. She was dressed in tactical black, holding a handgun.
Beside her, looking utterly terrified, was Leo. The five-year-old boy was clinging to the metal railing, his small face stained with tears.
And standing a few feet away, aiming an assault rifle at the stairs, was Daniel.
"Stop right there, Boss," Daniel called out as Luca and Lucy stepped into the light below the catwalk.
"Mama!" Leo screamed, trying to run toward the stairs.
Clara grabbed the back of the boy’s collar, yanking him back roughly. "Shut up, you little brat."
"Don't you touch him!" Lucy shrieked, raising her handgun, her hands shaking violently.
Clara laughed, a sharp, ugly sound. "Put the gun down, maid. Before I put a bullet in his knee."
"Let him go, Clara," Luca said calmly, holding up the leather binder. "I have the deed. It’s signed. The estate is yours."
Clara’s eyes gleamed with greedy triumph. "Bring it up here, Luca. Slowly."
Luca climbed the metal stairs, his boots clanging against the grating. He reached the catwalk, standing ten feet away from the woman he was supposed to marry.
He tossed the leather binder onto the metal floor between them.
Clara kept her gun trained on Leo’s head as she knelt down, picking up the binder with her free hand. She flipped it open, her eyes scanning his signature.
"Perfect," she smiled, standing back up.
"You have what you want," Luca said. "Now let the boy go."
Clara sighed, slipping the binder under her arm. "You know, Luca, I really did plan on being a good wife to you. It’s a shame you had to find out the truth."
She aimed her gun directly at Luca’s chest.
"Daniel," Clara ordered. "Kill the maid."
Daniel raised his assault rifle, aiming it straight down at Lucy.
"No!" Luca roared, lunging forward.
But Daniel didn't pull the trigger on Lucy.
Instead, Daniel fluidly swung the barrel of his rifle ninety degrees and fired a single, deafening shot.
May you like
Clara screamed as the bullet tore through her shoulder, spinning her violently backward. The deed flew from her hands, fluttering over the edge of the catwalk and disappearing into the dark vat below.
Reversal.
