The Woman At The Dining Room Doors

“No,” I breathed, staring down the barrel of the gun.

Daniel wiped the blood from his eyes with his free hand.

“Move, Emma,” he ordered softly. “Unlock the kid’s door. Vanessa texted me twenty minutes ago. The plan went sideways. We need the girl as collateral to get out of the city.”

“I won’t do it.”

Daniel sighed. He raised the gun, pressing the cold steel directly against my temple.

“I killed Elena Moretti while she begged for her life in the mud,” Daniel whispered. “Do you really think I won’t pull this trigger over a housekeeper?”

Tears sprang to my eyes. My mother. My brother. If I died in this closet, they would lose everything.

But if I opened that door, Daniel would take Sophie. And Luca would lose his entire world.

“Okay,” I choked out, raising my hands. “Okay. I’ll open it.”

Daniel smiled. “Smart girl. Walk.”

He grabbed my shoulder, forcing me out of the linen closet.

As we stepped into the dim hallway, my foot brushed against something on the carpet.

The train ticket I had dropped.

Daniel didn’t notice it. He kept the gun pressed against my spine as he marched me toward Sophie’s door.

My mind was racing.

I needed a distraction. I needed a weapon.

We reached the heavy wooden door of Sophie’s bedroom.

“Knock,” Daniel hissed in my ear.

I raised my trembling hand. I knocked three times.

“Sophie?” I called out. I tried to make my voice sound normal, but it cracked. “It’s Emma. Open the door, sweetie.”

I heard the small click of the deadbolt sliding back.

The handle began to turn.

I didn’t think. I just moved.

Instead of letting the door open, I grabbed the heavy brass handle and yanked it shut with all my strength, throwing my entire body weight backward against the wood.

Daniel hadn’t expected the sudden movement.

I slammed backward into his chest. The impact threw him off balance.

The gun fired.

The gunshot was deafening in the narrow hallway.

The bullet tore through the top of the doorframe, missing my head by inches and shattering the plaster.

Wood splinters rained down on us.

Daniel stumbled backward, cursing, but he didn’t drop the gun.

“Run, Sophie! Lock it!” I screamed through the door.

I heard the deadbolt slam back into place.

Daniel recovered, his eyes wild with rage.

He raised the gun, aiming it squarely at my chest.

“You stupid bitch,” he snarled.

Before he could pull the trigger, a massive shadow erupted from the top of the stairs.

Luca.

He had heard the gunshot.

He hit Daniel like a freight train.

Both men went crashing to the floor, the gun spinning away down the carpeted hallway.

Luca didn’t just hit him. He dismantled him.

The mafia boss unleashed four years of agonizing grief and rage in a span of five seconds. He pinned Daniel to the floor, driving his fist into the security guard’s face with sickening, bone-crushing force.

“Where is my wife?!” Luca roared.

Daniel spat blood, laughing weakly beneath the assault.

“She’s gone, boss,” Daniel choked out.

Luca raised his fist again, ready to deliver a lethal blow.

“Luca, stop!” I screamed.

He froze, his knuckles white, his chest heaving. He looked up at me.

“If you kill him, you’ll never find her,” I pleaded.

Luca’s jaw clenched. He grabbed Daniel by the collar, dragging the half-conscious man to his feet.

“You’re going to show me exactly where you left her,” Luca hissed.

Downstairs, the front doors banged open.

More security men—the ones loyal to Luca—flooded into the house.

“Boss!” one of them yelled up the stairs. “Vanessa is gone!”

Luca dropped Daniel, turning toward the stairs. “What do you mean she’s gone? I had two men on her!”

“She had a knife in her boot,” the guard shouted back. “She slashed Marco’s arm and ran out the back. She stole one of the SUVs!”

Luca cursed in Italian.

He looked at Daniel, who was slumping against the wall, grinning a bloody, broken smile.

“She’s going to the quarry,” Daniel wheezed. “She’s going to burn the car. You’re too late, Moretti.”

Luca didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Daniel by the throat and shoved him toward the stairs.

“Take him to my car,” Luca ordered his guards.

He turned back to me. His eyes softened for just a fraction of a second.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“No. I’m okay. Sophie is safe inside.”

“Stay with her. Lock every door in this house.”

He started to turn away.

“Luca, wait!”

I dropped to my knees on the carpet and picked up the train ticket I had dropped earlier.

I held it out to him.

“Sophie hid this,” I said quickly. “Elena had a train ticket in Isabella’s name the night she died. She wasn’t killed because of the blackmail. She was killed because she found Isabella.”

Luca took the ticket. He read the handwritten note on the back.

His eyes widened.

He looked down the stairs, where Isabella was standing in the foyer, watching him.

“Isabella,” Luca called out.

She looked up.

“Did Elena find you four years ago?”

Isabella hesitated. She gripped the banister tightly.

“Yes,” Isabella whispered.

“Then why didn’t you come home?” Luca asked, his voice breaking.

Isabella looked away, tears filling her eyes again.