PUT THAT MONEY AWAY, YOU PATHETIC OLD MAN! YOU CAN’T BUY YOUR WAY INTO MY FAMILY!” THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE HUMILIATED HIS 76-YEAR-OLD FATHER FOR LEAVING FOUR CRUMPLED TWENTY-DOLLAR BILLS BESIDE HIS DINNER PLATE—BUT WHEN THE 27-YEAR-OLD MAID WHISPERED, “HE THINKS HE HAS TO PAY TO SIT WITH HIS GRANDDAUGHTER,

Chapter 5 – The Coat That Caught the Bullet

“DADDY!” Rosie’s scream tore through the foggy night.

Dominic had thrown himself in front of Frank. The bullet tore through the left shoulder of Dominic’s suit—the exact spot where his star-shaped birthmark lay.

Dominic hit the wet wooden planks of the pier, blood pooling instantly.

“NO!” Frank roared. The gentle old man vanished. He raised the shotgun and fired at the floodlight, plunging the pier into chaotic darkness.

Gunfire erupted from all sides as Dominic’s men swarmed out of the shadows. The Marchesi enforcers fired back, but they were heavily outnumbered.

In the confusion, I ran. I didn’t think about the bullets snapping past my ears. I sprinted toward the spot where I had last seen Rosie.

The enforcer holding her had been shot in the leg and dropped her. Rosie was scrambling backward on the wet wood, sobbing.

I dove, sliding across the splinters, and wrapped my arms around her. “I got you, sweetie. I got you.”

Suddenly, a hand grabbed my hair, yanking me backward.

It was Vanessa. The red silk dress was torn, her face smeared with rain and makeup. She pressed the barrel of her revolver against my temple.

“Get up!” she screamed over the gunfire. “Both of you, get on the boat!”

“Leave her alone!” Rosie cried, hitting Vanessa’s leg.

Before Vanessa could react, a figure emerged from the smoke and tackled her to the ground. It was Frank.

The gun fired wildly into the air. Vanessa fought like a wildcat, but Frank pinned her wrist to the dock.

“You took my son’s brother,” Frank snarled, his voice guttural. “You will not take his daughter.”

Dominic’s men surrounded us, aiming dozens of weapons at Vanessa. The remaining Marchesi thugs dropped their guns and surrendered.

It was over.

Dominic was sitting up, clutching his bleeding shoulder. Frank rushed to his side, tearing off his patched brown jacket and pressing it hard against Dominic’s wound to stop the bleeding.

“I’m okay, Dad,” Dominic gritted out, wincing in pain. “It went clean through.”

I held Rosie tightly as she ran to her father, burying her face in his chest. Dominic kissed her hair, tears mixing with the rain on his face.

As Frank pressed the brown jacket against the wound, the old, worn fabric along the inner lining finally ripped open.

A small, folded piece of paper tumbled out of the lining, landing on the wet planks.

I picked it up. It was a hospital bracelet. Yellowed and brittle with age.

“Mr. Moretti,” I whispered, handing it to Frank.

Frank stared at the bracelet. It didn’t belong to Dominic. It belonged to the twin who was left behind.

Vanessa, sitting on the dock in handcuffs, saw the bracelet. She stopped fighting. All the fight drained out of her, replaced by a look of absolute, soul-crushing horror.

“Where did you get that?” Vanessa whispered, her voice trembling.

Frank looked at her, his eyes filled with a sudden, tragic realization. “The night I took Dominic… I tried to take the other baby too. I managed to get his bracelet off before Lorenzo’s men caught me.”

Frank looked closely at Vanessa. The rain washed away her perfect makeup, revealing the natural angles of her face.

“The twin didn’t jump off a bridge, did he?” Frank asked softly.

Vanessa squeezed her eyes shut, sobbing violently.

“You aren’t Lorenzo’s niece,” Dominic realized, staring at the woman who had tried to destroy him. “You’re Maria’s daughter. You’re my twin sister.”

Vanessa didn’t answer. She just cried, a broken, hollow sound that echoed over the water. She had spent her entire life trying to avenge a brother she thought was dead, only to nearly murder him.

The sirens wailed in the distance. The police were coming.

Dominic looked at the sister who had betrayed him, the sister who had been tortured by the family he escaped.

He stood up, clutching his bleeding shoulder. He walked over to the police chief who had just arrived on the scene—a man firmly on the Moretti payroll.

“The Marchesi men attacked us,” Dominic told the chief. “Take them all.”

He pointed to Vanessa. “She goes free.”

Vanessa looked up, stunned. “Why?”

“Because we don’t kill family,” Dominic said quietly. “But if you ever come near my father or my daughter again, I will forget we share blood.”

Vanessa slowly stood up. She looked at the hospital bracelet in Frank’s hand, then at Dominic. Without a word, she turned and walked away into the fog, disappearing forever.

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