THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED HIS FIANCÉE MAKE ME THROW AWAY A SLICE OF CAKE I’D WRAPPED FOR HIS ELDERLY DRIVER—THEN SHE SAID, “HE’S BEEN SNEAKING FOOD HOME TO HIS WIFE,” BEFORE LUCA EVEN ASKED WHY THE OLD MAN WAS CRYING. “Put that cake in the trash, Hannah

Chapter 7 – THE GHOST IN THE GARDEN

“Rosie!” I screamed into the phone.

“She wandered back looking for her blue dress,” Daniel laughed over the speaker. “The poor old bird doesn’t even know there’s a gun to her head. Now, listen carefully. Both of you.”

Luca’s hands were balled into fists so tight his knuckles were bone-white. “If you hurt her, Daniel, there isn’t a hole on earth deep enough to hide you.”

“Save the tough-guy act for the board meetings, Luca,” Daniel snapped. “You have the lockbox. You have Hannah’s signature. Bring them to the garden. Alone. If I see a single cop, I pull the trigger.”

The line went dead.

Luca didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the portfolio and the lockbox.

“Stay here with your mother,” he ordered me.

“No,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady. I looked down at my mother, who nodded at me with fierce, silent strength. “Rosie is out there because of my family’s secret. I’m going with you.”

Luca looked at me for a long second, then nodded once.

We ran through the rain, past the burning mansion, toward the smoking ruins of the cottage. The air was thick with the smell of ash and ozone.

Daniel stood in the center of the blackened clearing. Rosie was standing perfectly still in front of him, clutching a singed piece of fabric from her ruined blue dress.

“Sal?” Rosie murmured, looking into the dark trees. “Sal, is it time to go dancing?”

“Shut up, old woman,” Daniel hissed, pressing the gun harder against her silver hair.

“Let her go, Daniel!” Luca yelled, stepping into the clearing. He threw the portfolio and the lockbox onto the ash-covered ground. “It’s all there. The birth certificate, the waiver. Take it and run.”

Daniel smiled. He kept the gun on Rosie as he crouched down and picked up the portfolio. He flipped it open.

“Ah, the Bellini estate,” Daniel sighed happily. “And with you dead, Luca, the Moretti empire defaults to the closest blood relative. Me.”

“You won’t get away with this,” I said, stepping up beside Luca. “The police are at the gates.”

“The police are busy with the fire,” Daniel chuckled. “And once I shoot you both, I’ll put the gun in the old woman’s hand. A tragic murder-suicide triggered by dementia. So sad.”

He raised the gun, aiming it directly at Luca’s chest.

“Goodbye, Nephew.”

Click.

The gun didn’t fire.

Daniel frowned. He pulled the trigger again.

Click. Click.

“What the…” Daniel muttered, staring at his weapon.

“You always were careless with your equipment, Daniel,” a voice rasped from the shadows.

Daniel froze.

From the dark trees, a figure emerged.

He was holding his shoulder, limping heavily, his black uniform soaked in blood and rain.

Walter.

“The paramedics said you were dying!” Daniel gasped, backing up.

“I’ve been dying for twenty years,” Walter coughed, spitting a wad of blood onto the ash. “But I didn’t get in the ambulance. I had one of my men patch me up. And while you were busy blowing up the house, I took the firing pin out of your spare gun in the security lockbox.”

Daniel looked at his useless weapon in horror. He threw it to the ground and pulled a hunting knife from his belt, lunging at Walter.

“NO!” Rosie screamed, suddenly snapping out of her fog. She recognized the man she loved in danger.

Before Daniel could reach Walter, Luca tackled his uncle to the ground.

They rolled through the wet ash, fighting brutally. Daniel slashed with the knife, cutting Luca’s arm, but Luca didn’t feel it. He drove his knee into Daniel’s ribs, pinned his wrist to the dirt, and punched him across the jaw with sickening force.

Daniel went limp.

Luca stood up, breathing heavily, blood dripping from his arm.

The police rushed into the clearing, guns drawn, having finally heard the commotion over the fire. They hauled Daniel up and dragged him away.

I ran to Walter. The old man had collapsed onto his knees.

Rosie fell beside him, cradling his face.

“Walter,” she wept, her mind perfectly clear in the terror of the moment. “Walter, my love, you’re bleeding.”

Walter smiled, a genuine, beautiful smile. He reached up and touched her cheek.

“I promised you, Rosie,” he whispered. “I promised I’d always come home to you.”

He closed his eyes, and his head fell against her shoulder.

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