Chapter 3 – The Vipers In The House

The silence that followed Teresa’s words was heavy enough to crush bone.

Vanessa’s father, Carlo Bellini, sat halfway down the dining table. The elderly mafia boss slowly lowered his wine glass, his face turning a dangerous, pale shade of gray as he looked at his daughter.

“Vanessa,” Carlo said, his voice a low, terrifying rumble. “What did you do?”

Vanessa didn’t look at her father. She didn’t look at Luca.

She threw her head back and laughed.

It was a cold, sharp, unhinged sound that echoed off the crystal chandeliers.

“He figured it out too late,” Vanessa sneered, wiping a drop of blood from her hand onto her expensive silk gown. “The old man was too smart for his own good. He knew I was feeding his shipping routes to the Russians. He knew I was setting up the ambush at the docks.”

Luca stepped toward her, the sheer fury radiating from him so intensely that even Marco took a step back.

“You killed my father,” Luca whispered. “You stood at his funeral and held my mother’s hand, and you killed him.”

“I secured my future!” Vanessa screamed, the mask of the elegant socialite entirely gone. “Your father was weak! He wanted peace. He wanted to go legitimate and turn the empire into a real estate company. My family would have lost millions in the transition! I did what had to be done to ensure the syndicate survived!”

She pointed a shaking, bloody finger at Luca.

“And you were stupid enough to propose to me. You were going to hand me the keys to the kingdom.”

“You will not leave this house alive,” Carlo Bellini said, standing up. He wasn’t speaking as a father. He was speaking as a boss whose daughter had just admitted to starting a war that cost dozens of lives.

Vanessa’s eyes flashed with manic triumph.

“Oh, I think I will,” she smiled, reaching into the bodice of her dress.

She didn’t pull a gun.

She pulled out a small, glass vial filled with a clear liquid.

“Because if I don’t walk out those front doors in the next five minutes, Teresa dies.”

The room froze.

I looked at Teresa. The elderly woman was clutching her chest, her breathing suddenly becoming labored. She leaned heavily against the table, her face draining of color.

Bruno let out a distressed whine, pressing his massive head against her legs.

“What did you do to my mother?” Luca roared, lunging forward.

“Stop!” Vanessa shrieked, holding the glass vial over the hard marble floor. “One more step and I smash the antidote. I’ve been lacing her evening tea with digitalis for the past six weeks. Small doses. Just enough to make her heart weak. Just enough to make her ‘fall’ in her bedroom last Thursday.”

My stomach dropped into my shoes.

The tea.

I had been serving Teresa her tea every night. Vanessa had always insisted on bringing the tray into the kitchen herself, claiming she was trying to be a good daughter-in-law. She had been poisoning her right in front of me.

“Tonight was the final dose,” Vanessa smiled cruelly. “A massive spike. She has about ten minutes before her heart stops completely. The only thing that can reverse it is in this vial.”

Teresa gasped, her knees buckling.

I rushed forward, catching her before she hit the floor. I eased her down onto the Persian rug, resting her head in my lap. Her skin was freezing cold, slick with sweat.

“Mrs. Moretti,” I cried, feeling her pulse. It was erratic, terrifyingly fast, and fluttering like a trapped bird.

Bruno pawed frantically at her arm, barking in distress.

“Give me the vial,” Luca said, his voice devoid of all emotion, a pure, lethal promise of violence.

“Open the front doors,” Vanessa demanded, backing slowly toward the foyer. “Tell your men to lower their weapons. I walk to my car. I leave the vial on the driveway. You try to stop me, and I drop it right now.”

Luca looked at his mother dying on the floor.

He had an empire of men, money, and power. And none of it could save her in this moment.

“Stand down,” Luca ordered, not taking his eyes off Vanessa.

Marco and the guards reluctantly lowered their weapons.

Vanessa smirked, turning toward the heavy oak doors.

But she made one fatal mistake.

She walked too close to me.

I wasn’t a mafia boss. I wasn’t an armed guard. I was a twenty-five-year-old maid desperate to keep her job to save her mother.

And Teresa Moretti was the only person in this house who had ever treated me like a human being.

As Vanessa stepped past me, her eyes locked on the door, I didn’t think.

I reached out, grabbed the heavy, silver cake knife from the dessert cart next to me, and drove the blunt, heavy handle as hard as I could into the back of Vanessa’s knee.

Vanessa screamed, her leg buckling instantly.

She crashed to the marble floor.

The glass vial flew from her hand.

Time seemed to slow down. I dove across the hard stone, scraping my elbows and knees, and caught the vial just before it shattered against the marble.

I scrambled backward, clutching it to my chest as Vanessa shrieked in pain and fury.

Before she could rise, Luca was on her. He pinned her to the floor, his knee pressing heavily into her spine, ripping her arms behind her back.

“Hannah!” Luca shouted. “Give it to my mother!”

I ripped the cork out with my teeth and poured the bitter-smelling liquid into Teresa’s mouth, gently massaging her throat to force her to swallow.

The dining room was in absolute chaos. Carlo Bellini was screaming at his men to stand down. Michael was crying. Bruno was licking Teresa’s face.

Seconds ticked by like hours.

Slowly, agonizingly, Teresa’s breathing deepened. The terrifying flutter in her chest steadied into a slow, strong rhythm. The color began to return to her cheeks.

She opened her eyes, looking up at me.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she whispered.

I collapsed back onto the rug, sobbing in pure relief.

“Take Vanessa to the cellar,” Luca ordered Marco, dragging his former fiancée off the floor by her hair. “Lock her in. She belongs to us now.”

As the guards dragged a screaming, cursing Vanessa away, Luca dropped to his knees beside me and his mother.

He looked at me. The gratitude in his eyes was overwhelming.

“You saved her,” Luca whispered.

But the relief didn’t last.

The massive front doors suddenly banged open with a deafening crash.

A bloodied, bruised guard stumbled into the foyer, clutching a massive gunshot wound in his shoulder.

“Boss!” the guard choked out, collapsing onto the marble. “The gates… the Russians… they’re here.”