Chapter 8 - THE NEW YORK ESTATE
We landed at a private airfield in upstate New York just as the sun began to rise over the snow-covered trees.
Vincent’s men had secured the perimeter of Daniel’s hidden estate before we even touched down. It was a sprawling, isolated stone mansion surrounded by dense forest—the perfect place to hide a kidnapped child for three years.
Elena held Mia tightly as we walked through the heavy oak doors, visibly shaking at the memories of her captivity.
“It’s okay,” Vincent said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’re not a prisoner anymore.”
“The attic is on the third floor,” Elena pointed up the grand staircase.
Vincent led the way, his pistol drawn just in case, while I stayed close behind with Leo.
The attic was dark, dusty, and filled with old furniture covered in white sheets.
“Start looking for a cardboard box,” Vincent ordered, turning on a flashlight.
We scoured the room, coughing through the dust. Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Panic began to set in. What if the caretaker had thrown it away? What if Isabella’s plan had failed?
“Emma!” Leo called out from the far corner.
I rushed over. Leo was kneeling next to a stack of old paintings. Behind them, wedged under the sloping roof, was a dusty brown shipping box.
Written on the faded shipping label in Isabella’s elegant handwriting was: Jane Eyre.
“Vincent!” I called out.
Vincent crossed the room in three massive strides. He holstered his gun and pulled a pocket knife from his suit, slicing the thick packing tape.
He opened the flaps.
Inside, wrapped in layers of bubble wrap, was a thick, black leather-bound ledger.
Vincent pulled it out. He opened the first page.
It was entirely filled with names, dates, bank account numbers, and chillingly specific details of murders ordered by Carmine Caruso.
“This is it,” Vincent breathed. “This is the nail in Carmine’s coffin.”
He pulled his phone out and dialed the number of the FBI director in Chicago—a man Vincent had a complicated, but respectful, relationship with.
“Director,” Vincent said into the phone. “I have a gift for you. I need full immunity for my family, and in exchange, I’m handing you the head of the New York syndicate on a silver platter.”
As Vincent finalized the deal, I looked down at the box.
Something else was inside.
Beneath the bubble wrap was a small, sealed envelope. It didn’t have a name on it.
I reached down and picked it up.
“Mr. Caruso,” I said, holding out the envelope.
Vincent hung up the phone and took it from me. He opened it carefully.
Inside was a single sheet of paper and a beautiful, silver locket.
Vincent read the letter, his eyes widening. He handed the letter to Elena.
Elena read it, and a sob broke from her chest.
“What is it?” I asked softly.
“It’s Isabella’s final will,” Elena cried, smiling through her tears. “She legally transferred all of her personal assets, her jewelry, and the deed to this New York estate… to Leo and Mia.”
Vincent looked at the silver locket. He clicked it open. Inside was a tiny picture of Isabella, smiling brightly.
Vincent knelt down and fastened the locket around Leo’s neck.
“She loved you so much, Leo,” Vincent said, his voice breaking. “She fought until her very last breath to make sure you were safe.”
Leo clutched the locket to his chest, burying his face in his father’s shoulder.
Suddenly, Vincent’s phone buzzed.
It was a text from his head of security back in Chicago.
Vincent read it, and a grim smile spread across his bruised face.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Carmine tried to raid my mansion to get Daniel and Sabrina,” Vincent said. “But he walked right into an FBI ambush. The Director didn’t waste any time. Carmine is in federal custody. And Daniel and Sabrina have been formally charged with conspiracy to commit murder.”
The nightmare was over.
Daniel was going to prison. Sabrina was going to prison. Carmine’s empire was dismantled.
Elena fell to her knees, hugging Mia and weeping with sheer relief.
May you like
Vincent stood up and looked around the dusty attic, then down at the family that had been fractured and broken for so long.
“Let’s go home,” Vincent said softly.
