Chapter 6 – THE TRAITOR’S REWARD

The cold, damp air of the steel mill basement suddenly felt suffocating.

Richard Sterling stared down the barrel of the gun held by his own daughter.

“Vanessa,” Richard warned, his voice dangerously low. “Put the gun down.”

“You were going to leave me with nothing,” Vanessa sneered, her hands shaking but her aim steady. “I checked the Bellini accounts before I left the mansion. You drained them, Dad. You took every last cent of my collateral and moved it to your private Caymans account.”

Richard’s eyes narrowed. “I was securing our assets!”

“You were securing your escape,” Vanessa spat. “You knew Vincent was going to find out about Elena eventually. You were going to let me take the fall while you disappeared with the Moretti empire!”

Vincent didn’t move. He kept his eyes locked on Grace, subtly shifting his weight, preparing to lunge the second the Sterling family tore each other apart.

“You ungrateful little brat,” Richard hissed, pressing the revolver harder against Grace’s head. “I built this life for you! I got rid of Elena for you!”

“And you did a sloppy job!” Vanessa screamed.

The distraction was all Vincent needed.

A heavy, metallic screech echoed from the top of the stairs.

Everyone looked up.

Elena stepped onto the metal landing, breathing heavily, holding Vargas’s gun.

Richard went pale. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“I survived you once, Richard,” Elena said, her voice echoing through the massive room. “I’m not running this time.”

Richard panicked. He swung his revolver away from Grace and aimed at Elena.

It was a fatal mistake.

The moment the gun left Grace’s head, Vincent launched himself forward.

He hit Richard like a freight train, tackling the older man to the concrete floor. The silver revolver fired wildly into the ceiling, the deafening BANG ringing in everyone’s ears.

Vanessa screamed and dropped her gun, covering her ears.

Vincent straddled Richard, his fists raining down on the lawyer’s face in a blind, primal rage. Every punch was for the four years of grief, for the stolen moments with his daughter, and for the murder of a good man named Daniel Bennett.

“Daddy, stop!” Grace screamed, covering her eyes.

Vincent froze, his fist raised in the air.

He looked down at Richard, whose face was a bloody, unrecognizable mess. The man was unconscious, barely breathing.

Vincent lowered his fist. He wasn’t a monster anymore. He was a father.

He stood up, chest heaving, and ran to Grace.

He scooped the little girl into his arms, burying his face in her dark curls.

“I’ve got you,” Vincent sobbed, holding her so tightly she squeaked. “I’ve got you, Gracie. You’re safe.”

“Daddy,” Grace cried, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck.

Footsteps clattered down the metal stairs.

Elena reached the bottom and dropped her gun. She ran across the room and threw her arms around Vincent and Grace.

The three of them collapsed onto the floor, a tangled mess of tears and relief.

Four years of lies, four years of hiding, finally over.

I stood at the top of the stairs, clutching the railing, watching the family reunite.

My heart swelled with a bittersweet joy. Daniel had done this. My husband had saved them.

Then, a movement caught my eye.

Vanessa was crawling toward the gun she had dropped.

Her eyes were wild, completely unhinged. She looked at the happy family on the floor, her face twisting into a mask of pure hatred.

“If I can’t have it,” Vanessa whispered, wrapping her fingers around the grip of the gun, “nobody can.”

She raised the weapon, aiming it at Elena’s back.

“No!” I screamed.

I didn’t think. I just acted.

I grabbed a heavy, rusted fire extinguisher off the wall bracket near the stairs and hurled it down the steps with all my strength.

The heavy red cylinder bounced off the metal stairs and slammed directly into Vanessa’s shoulder just as she pulled the trigger.

The gunshot went wide, sparking against a steel pillar.

Vanessa collapsed, howling in pain, clutching her broken collarbone.

Marco and the strike team swarmed down the stairs seconds later, weapons drawn.

“Secure her!” Marco ordered, kicking the gun away from Vanessa and dragging her to her feet by her good arm.

Vincent looked up at me, standing at the top of the stairs.

He gently set Grace down, stood up, and walked up the steps until he was standing right in front of me.

Without a word, Vincent pulled me into a fierce, tight hug.

“Thank you,” he whispered into my hair. “For the rest of my life, Clara. Thank you.”

Suddenly, a sharp, tearing pain ripped through my abdomen.

It wasn’t Braxton Hicks this time.

It felt like a knife dragging across my lower spine.

I gasped, my knees buckling.

“Clara!” Vincent caught me before I hit the metal grate.

Water rushed down my legs, pooling on the floor.

“The baby,” I cried out, gripping Vincent’s jacket, my vision spotting with black dots. “Vincent, the baby is coming. Right now.”

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