Chapter 11 – The Family Crest
The wind howling off Lake Michigan was brutal, whipping through the rusted steel containers of the abandoned shipping yard.
Midnight.
Matteo and I walked side by side under the flickering yellow light of a broken streetlamp.
He had told me to stay in the car, but I refused. I wasn’t a maid anymore. I was Isabella Russo, and they had my brother.
Matteo carried the wooden box containing the gold watch.
I kept my hand inside my coat pocket, my fingers tightly gripping the cold, heavy handle of a pistol Matteo had given me.
“Stay close,” Matteo murmured.
At the end of the pier, three black SUVs were parked in a semi-circle, their headlights blinding us.
Four armed men stood in front of the vehicles.
In the center, Andrew was tied to a wooden chair, his face bruised and bleeding. Little Leo was sitting on the ground beside him, terrified but unharmed.
“That’s far enough, Russo,” the lead kidnapper shouted. “Toss the box.”
Matteo stopped. “Let the boy and my brother go first.”
Andrew looked up, his eyes widening when he saw me.
“Grace?” Andrew yelled, his voice hoarse. “What are you doing here? Run!”
Even now, beaten and tied up, he was trying to protect me. My twin.
The kidnapper laughed. “He doesn’t even know who he is, does he? Toss the box, Matteo, or I shoot the kid.”
He pointed his gun at Leo.
Matteo didn’t hesitate. He threw the wooden box.
It skidded across the concrete and stopped at the kidnapper’s feet.
The man knelt and opened it. He pulled out the heavy gold watch, grinning as the Russo crest caught the headlights.
“The Genesis Account,” the man whispered in awe.
“You have what you want,” Matteo said coldly. “Let them go.”
The man stood up, pocketing the watch.
“Sorry, Russo,” he sneered. “Carmine left strict orders. No survivors.”
He raised his gun toward Andrew’s chest.
BANG.
The gunshot echoed across the pier.
But Andrew didn’t fall.
The kidnapper dropped his weapon, clutching his shoulder, screaming in agony.
I stood with my arm extended, smoke curling from the barrel of my pistol.
I didn’t even realize I had pulled the trigger.
The other three men froze in absolute shock.
In that split second, the shadows around the shipping containers suddenly came alive.
Matteo hadn’t come alone.
Dozens of Russo enforcers stepped out from the darkness, raising high-powered rifles. They had been in position for an hour, silently waiting for Matteo’s signal.
The kidnappers dropped their weapons instantly, raising their hands in surrender.
Matteo didn’t look at them. He sprinted forward, pulling a knife to cut the thick ropes binding Andrew to the chair.
I dropped my gun and ran to Leo, scooping the little boy into my arms. He buried his face in my neck, sobbing.
“I got you, sweetheart,” I whispered. “It’s over.”
Andrew stumbled forward, falling into Matteo’s arms.
“Why?” Andrew gasped, coughing. “Why did they call me your brother?”
Matteo supported Andrew’s weight, looking at him with immense respect.
“Because you are,” Matteo said softly.
He walked over to the wounded kidnapper, retrieved the gold watch from his pocket, and pressed it into Andrew’s bleeding hand.
“You’re a Russo, Andrew,” Matteo said. “Our father gave you to Arthur to keep you safe. You’re my brother. And you’re her twin.”
Andrew turned and looked at me.
Despite the blood, the bruises, and the sheer shock of the revelation, the kindness in his eyes had not faded.
He took a step toward me.
I reached out, and we collapsed into each other’s arms.
Twenty-seven years of being entirely alone in the world vanished in a single embrace.
Six months later.
The Chicago winter had finally given way to a bright, beautiful spring.
The dining room of the Russo mansion was full once again, but the faces had changed.
There were no politicians, no fake socialites, no ruthless mob bosses.
Instead, Arthur Hayes sat at the head of the table, laughing warmly as little Leo ran around his chair with a toy airplane.
Victoria sat nearby, looking healthier and happier than she ever had in her satin gowns. She was working at Arthur’s hardware store now, slowly earning back her father’s trust and learning how to be a real mother to Leo.
Matteo walked into the room carrying a large silver platter of roasted lamb, setting it in the center of the table.
“Smells amazing, brother,” Andrew said, pouring a glass of wine.
Andrew wore a tailored suit, but he didn’t look nervous anymore. He was running the legitimate side of the Russo Foundation, using the massive funds from the Genesis Account to build schools and hospitals in the neighborhoods that needed them most.
I walked out of the kitchen, carrying a fresh basket of bread.
I wasn’t wearing a maid’s uniform.
I wore a beautiful emerald green dress, my mother’s silver rosary resting against my collarbone.
Matteo pulled out a chair for me.
“Thank you,” I smiled.
Matteo raised his glass.
“To family,” Matteo said, looking at me, then at Andrew, and finally at Arthur. “The ones we are born with, and the ones we choose.”
We all clinked our glasses together.
I looked around the table, my heart completely full.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t just have a name.
I had a home.
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