Chapter 5 - THE BLOODLINE'S SECRET
The ringing in my ears faded, replaced by the heavy silence of the destroyed room.
I slowly pushed myself up from behind the sofa, coughing against the thick dust.
The Rossi girl.
I looked at Lorenzo Romano, a man I had only seen in newspapers and whispered rumors. He stared back at me with a chilling familiarity, as if he were looking at a ghost.
"What did you call her?" Matteo demanded, keeping his rifle raised, refusing to back down even against his own uncle.
"Put the gun down, Matteo," Lorenzo sighed, waving a dismissive hand. His heavily armed guards remained perfectly still, their weapons aimed directly at us. "Julian is tearing the city apart looking for you. I didn't blow your door off to kill you. I did it to get your attention before he did."
Matteo hesitated, then slowly lowered the barrel of his rifle, though he kept his finger near the trigger guard.
"You're supposed to be in Sicily," Matteo said, his voice laced with suspicion.
"I came back when Julian rose from the dead," Lorenzo said, stepping further into the room and brushing plaster dust off his immaculate suit. "Julian is a rabid dog, Matteo. He wants the syndicate, but he doesn't have the patience to rule it. He’ll burn Boston to the ground."
Lorenzo’s cold eyes drifted back to me.
"But the real problem isn't Julian," Lorenzo continued smoothly. "The real problem is the maid."
"Leave her out of this," Matteo growled, stepping defensively in front of me. "She’s a civilian. She got caught in the crossfire."
Lorenzo let out a dry, rattling laugh.
"A civilian?" Lorenzo mocked, shaking his head. "Matteo, did you ever actually read the background check on the girl you hired to pour your wine?"
Matteo frowned, glancing back at me for a split second. "Her name is Clara Wilson."
"Her name," Lorenzo corrected, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper, "is Clara Rossi."
The name hit the room like a physical blow.
Matteo went entirely still. The air seemed to vanish from the safe house.
I stood frozen behind the sofa, my heart hammering violently against my ribs.
Rossi.
The Rossi syndicate. The rival family that the Romanos had slaughtered twenty years ago in a brutal turf war. The family that was supposed to have been wiped out entirely.
"You're lying," Matteo said, though his voice lacked its usual absolute certainty.
"Twenty years ago, when your father ordered the hit on the Rossi compound, one of their soldiers escaped with the two youngest daughters," Lorenzo explained, watching my face pale. "They changed their names. They hid in plain sight. They became Clara and Chloe Wilson."
Lorenzo stepped closer, his eyes narrowing.
"Julian didn't hire the younger sister to watch your daughter by accident, Matteo. He knew exactly who she was. And he knew exactly who Clara was when she applied to work in your house."
"Why?" I choked out, finding my voice. My hands were shaking so hard I had to grip the back of the sofa to stay upright. "If Julian wanted us dead, why not just kill us?"
Lorenzo looked at me, a cruel smile touching his lips.
"Because Julian doesn't want you dead, Clara," Lorenzo said softly. "He wants to marry you."
The room spun. I swayed on my feet, feeling violently sick to my stomach.
"Julian can force Matteo to sign the transition papers," Lorenzo explained to the room, "but the other families in Boston will never accept Julian’s rule. They know he’s unstable. But... if Julian marries the last surviving heir of the Rossi syndicate..."
"It unites the bloodlines," Matteo finished, the horrifying realization dawning on him. "It legitimizes his claim. The other families would have to fall in line."
"Exactly," Lorenzo nodded. "Julian engineered this entire night. He used Sofia Valenti to try and poison you, knowing Clara would likely stop it and expose herself. He burned the farmhouse to force you to run. He has the younger sister to ensure Clara comes to the shipyard tonight."
Lorenzo looked at Matteo, his eyes hardening into twin stones of obsidian.
"If Julian gets his hands on this girl tonight, the Romano family as we know it is finished. He will take the throne, and he will execute you and your daughter to secure it."
Matteo looked down at his rifle. The weight of his uncle's words settled over him, heavy and suffocating.
Then, slowly, Matteo turned his head and looked at me.
His dark eyes were unreadable. The protective father I had seen holding his daughter in the burning field was gone. The ruthless mafia boss had returned, calculating the cost of survival.
"What are you suggesting, Uncle?" Matteo asked, his voice dead flat.
Lorenzo pulled a sleek, silver handgun from his shoulder holster and placed it on the coffee table.
"You are the head of this family, Matteo," Lorenzo said coldly. "You do what must be done to protect it. We leave the safe house now. We take Elara to the harbor. And we leave the Rossi girl here, with a bullet in her chest."
My breath caught in my throat.
I looked at Lorenzo, then at Matteo.
"Matteo," I whispered, stepping backward toward the kitchen. "You know me. I've worked in your house for two years. I'm not a threat to you."
"You are the key to Julian's kingdom," Lorenzo spat. "As long as you breathe, Julian has a path to the throne. Kill her, Matteo. Cut the head off the snake."
Matteo stared at me.
The silence stretched for ten agonizing seconds. I could see the conflict raging behind his eyes. The duty to his family. The instinct to protect his child.
Slowly, Matteo raised his rifle.
He didn't aim it at Lorenzo.
He aimed it squarely at my chest.
"I'm sorry, Clara," Matteo whispered, his finger tightening on the trigger.
"No!" I screamed, turning to run.
But I didn't make it two steps before the deafening crack of a gunshot shattered the room.
I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the burning impact. Waiting for the darkness.
But the pain never came.
I heard a heavy thud, followed by the clatter of a weapon hitting the floor.
I slowly opened my eyes and turned around.
Matteo was standing in the exact same spot, smoke curling from the barrel of his rifle.
But he hadn't shot me.
Lorenzo Romano lay on the floor, clutching his bleeding shoulder, his silver handgun sliding out of reach across the hardwood.
The heavily armed guards in the room instantly raised their weapons, preparing to fire on Matteo.
"Wait!" Matteo roared, his voice vibrating with absolute authority.
He lowered his rifle, staring down at his bleeding uncle.
"Julian didn't engineer this night, Lorenzo," Matteo said, his voice dripping with venom. "You did."
Lorenzo gasped in pain, clutching his shoulder. "You fool... I'm trying to save you."
"If Julian knew Clara was a Rossi," Matteo said coldly, "he would have taken her tonight instead of Sofia Valenti. He wouldn't have let her run with me."
Matteo stepped over the debris, pointing his rifle directly at Lorenzo's head.
"Julian is a rabid dog," Matteo agreed. "But he’s not the one who wants the throne. He’s just the distraction you created so you could sweep in and eliminate the last Rossi heir yourself."
Matteo looked up at Lorenzo's guards.
"Drop your weapons," Matteo commanded. "Or I blow his head off."
The guards hesitated, looking at their bleeding boss. Slowly, they lowered their rifles to the floor.
Matteo turned to me.
"Get Elara," Matteo said urgently. "We are leaving."
I didn't hesitate. I ran to the back room, scooped up the sleeping little girl, and hurried back to the living room.
Matteo kept his rifle trained on his uncle as we backed toward the destroyed doorway.
"You can't run, Matteo!" Lorenzo yelled from the floor, his face twisted in rage. "Julian still has the sister! He will kill her at midnight!"
Matteo stopped at the door.
He looked at his uncle, a dark, terrifying resolve settling over his features.
"Let him try," Matteo said.
We ran out into the rainy morning, leaving the safe house behind.
But as we climbed into Lorenzo's black SUV, I realized the terrifying truth.
I wasn't just a maid running with a mafia boss anymore.
May you like
I was Clara Rossi.
And tonight, I was going to war.
