Chapter 8 – The Rescue

Smash.

Light pierced the darkness. Cold, fresh air rushed over my face.

Someone was dragging me by the arms. I heard sirens screaming in the distance, a chaotic symphony of red and blue lights flashing against the stone walls.

I coughed violently, my lungs burning as I was pulled onto the damp grass of the estate lawn.

“Breathe, Claire. Just breathe.”

I opened my eyes. Roman was kneeling over me, his face covered in soot and sweat, but alive. Behind him, a massive fire truck was parked on the lawn, firefighters swarming the basement doors they had just axed open.

“How?” I croaked out.

“Leo,” Roman said, looking toward the driveway. “He ran outside and gave his mother’s phone to the security guards. He told them she was doing something bad in the basement.”

I turned my head. Near the police cruisers, Victoria was in handcuffs. She was screaming, fighting the two officers holding her, her perfect hair wild and matted.

“It’s a lie!” she shrieked as they forced her into the back of the squad car. “She’s a DeLuca! She set me up!”

I looked back at Roman. “She said the grave was empty.”

“It was,” Roman said softly. “But Victoria wasn’t as smart as she thought. Isabella knew she was being poisoned. She kept her own blood samples in a safety deposit box at her bank, along with a sworn affidavit from her lawyer. We found it this morning.”

It was over. The nightmare was actually over.

A week later, the estate was quiet. The oppressive weight that had hung over the mansion for two years had evaporated.

I was standing in the grand foyer, not wearing a maid’s uniform, but a simple blue dress. My mother was sitting in a wheelchair by the grand staircase, recovering beautifully from the heart surgery Roman had paid for using the best surgeons in the country.

Eleanor walked down the stairs, looking ten years younger, holding Leo’s hand. The little boy looked up at me and smiled, truly smiled, for the first time.

Roman walked out of his study. He looked at my mother, then at me.

“Welcome home, Madeline,” Roman said softly.

My mother reached out, and Roman took her hand, a twenty-year rift finally healing.

Then, Roman turned to me.

“You don’t have to work another day in your life, Claire,” he said, handing me an envelope. Inside were the adoption papers for Leo, and trust fund documents with my name on them. “You are a DeLuca. You belong here. With us.”

I looked at my mother, at Eleanor, at little Leo, and finally at Roman. I wasn’t just a maid anymore. I was family.

And for the first time in my life, I felt completely safe.

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