Chapter 12 - THE FINAL VERDICT
The detective’s gun didn't waver.
I held the thick manila envelope against my chest. My mother’s legacy. The justice she died for.
“Slide it,” the detective repeated, cocking the hammer.
Luca slowly raised his hands, stepping slightly in front of me.
“You shoot her in a crowded museum, you’ll never make it out of the building,” Luca said calmly.
“Harris owns the investigation. We’ll say you resisted arrest.”
I looked at the envelope. Then at Luca.
Luca’s dark eyes met mine. He gave a microscopic nod.
Trust me.
I knelt down and slid the manila envelope across the polished linoleum floor.
It stopped at the detective’s feet.
He smiled, bending down to pick it up.
In that split second, Luca moved.
He didn't go for his gun. He grabbed a heavy metal trash can beside him and hurled it directly at the detective’s head.
The can smashed into the man, knocking him backward. His gun went off, the bullet shattering the glass of a fire extinguisher case on the wall.
The second detective lunged, but Luca was already there.
Luca hit him with a brutal, precise strike to the throat, dropping him instantly.
The museum alarms began to blare.
Screams echoed from the floor above.
Luca grabbed the envelope from the stunned detective’s hand, pulled me up by my arm, and we ran.
We burst through the emergency exit doors into the cold Chicago air.
“Where do we go?” I yelled over the sirens. “We can't go to the police!”
“We’re going to the one place Harris can't touch,” Luca said.
Ten minutes later, we pulled up to the Federal Courthouse.
Luca didn't stop at security. He bypassed the guards, flashing a card that belonged to his high-powered corporate attorneys, and dragged me straight up to the top floor.
We barged into the office of the US Attorney for the Northern District.
The man sitting at the desk looked up in shock.
“Luca Moretti? What is the meaning of this?”
Luca slapped the manila envelope onto the mahogany desk.
“Twenty-five years of wiretaps, payoff ledgers, and murder conspiracies,” Luca said, breathing heavily. “All pointing directly to Deputy Commissioner Harris.”
The US Attorney stared at the envelope.
“If this is a joke, Luca…”
“Open it.”
The attorney opened the envelope. He pulled out the yellowed transcripts. He saw the dates, the names, the bank account numbers.
His face went pale.
“This is… this is a silver bullet.”
“Issue the arrest warrant,” Luca said. “Now.”
Three hours later, I sat in the back of Luca’s SUV, watching the news on my phone.
The banner across the bottom read: DEPUTY COMMISSIONER ARRESTED IN MASSIVE CORRUPTION SWEEP.
It was over. For real this time.
My mother’s ghost was finally at peace.
Luca slid into the back seat next to me. He looked exhausted, but the heavy burden that had weighed on his shoulders for as long as I had known him was completely gone.
“Harris is in federal custody,” Luca said. “Marco just called. The police left the estate. Your dad is safe.”
I let out a breath I felt like I had been holding for twenty-five years.
I looked down at the gold sunburst necklace.
“Thank you, Luca.”
He reached over and gently took my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine.
“When I first saw you serving that dinner, dealing with Vanessa’s cruelty, I knew you were strong,” Luca said softly. “But I didn't know you were the strongest person I would ever meet.”
I looked into his eyes. There was no hesitation. No walls.
“I didn't do it alone,” I whispered.
Luca leaned in.
“You’re never doing anything alone again, Emma.”
He kissed me.
It was slow, deep, and filled with a promise that had been forged in fire and absolute trust.
I kissed him back, holding onto the lapel of his coat.
When we finally pulled away, Luca smiled, his thumb brushing my cheek.
“So,” he murmured. “Do you want to go home?”
I looked at the man who had torn down his own empire to protect my family.
“Yes,” I said.
The car pulled away from the curb, driving us back to the estate.
May you like
Not as a boss and his housekeeper.
But as partners. For the rest of our lives.
