Chapter 6 – The Candlestick

“Vanessa, drop the gun!” Don Bellini roared, his face turning purple with shock and fury.

But Vanessa was completely unhinged. Her hands were shaking wildly, the barrel of the small silver revolver pointed unsteadily at the eleven-year-old girl on the balcony.

“Stay back!” Vanessa shrieked, her eyes darting between Luca and her father’s men. “If anyone takes a step, I’ll shoot the brat! I’ll do it!”

Luca’s heart stopped. The ruthless mafia boss was utterly paralyzed. His men had their guns drawn, but no one had a clear shot without risking Sophie.

“Vanessa, please,” Luca begged, dropping to his knees on the marble floor, throwing his hands up in absolute surrender. “Shoot me. Please. Take it out on me. Just let my daughter go back to her room.”

“Shut up!” Vanessa screamed, tears flying from her face. “You ruined everything! I played the perfect fiancé! I smiled at your stupid friends! I tolerated that little brat! All you had to do was marry me and give me the life I deserved!”

I was standing three feet to Vanessa’s right. She had forgotten I was even there. The invisible housemaid.

I looked at Sophie on the balcony. She was frozen in terror, clutching her teddy bear, her little body trembling. I thought of my own mother. I thought of the threat Vanessa had made. If Vanessa got out of this house alive, my mother was dead. Sophie was dead.

I looked down at the entry table next to me. Sitting on the polished mahogany was a heavy, solid brass candlestick.

Vanessa started backing toward the front door, keeping the gun aimed upward. “Papa,” she cried out to Don Bellini. “Tell your men to escort me to my car. Now!”

Don Bellini looked at his daughter with utter disgust. “You murdered a mother over a dance recital, Vanessa. You bring shame to this family. I have no daughter.”

He slammed his cane against the marble floor and turned his back on her.

Vanessa gasped, the betrayal shattering her last ounce of sanity. “Fine! Then I’ll kill the kid and myself!”

She tightened her finger on the trigger.

I didn’t think. I just moved.

I grabbed the heavy brass candlestick with both hands, lunged forward, and swung it as hard as I could directly at Vanessa’s wrist.

A sickening crack echoed through the foyer.

Vanessa screamed in agony. The gun fired, but the impact sent her arm jerking upward. The bullet shattered the massive crystal chandelier above us, sending a rain of sparkling glass cascading down onto the marble floor.

Vanessa collapsed to her knees, clutching her shattered wrist, the gun skittering across the floor.

Instantly, Luca was on his feet. He didn’t use a weapon. He grabbed Vanessa by the throat, slamming her against the heavy wooden door, his eyes black with murderous rage.

“Daddy, no!” Sophie cried from the stairs.

Luca froze. His fist was raised, ready to end Vanessa’s life right there. But he heard his daughter’s voice. He looked up at Sophie, who was crying, terrified of the violence.

Luca took a ragged breath. He released Vanessa’s throat and let her drop to the floor like a ragdoll.

“Take her,” Luca commanded, looking at Don Bellini’s men. “Get her out of my sight. Before I forget my daughter is watching.”

Two of Bellini’s guards dragged the sobbing, broken Vanessa to her feet and hauled her out the front doors. Don Bellini stopped at the threshold. He looked at Luca, giving a slow, respectful nod of apology, and walked out into the night.

The heavy doors closed. The mansion was finally silent, save for the sound of tinkling glass settling on the floor.

I stood there, panting, the heavy candlestick dropping from my bruised hands. My apron was covered in glass dust. My knees suddenly gave out, and I sank to the floor, the adrenaline crashing out of my system.

“Claire.”

I looked up. Luca was kneeling in front of me. He reached out and gently brushed a piece of broken crystal from my hair.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “No, sir. I’m okay.”

Suddenly, a small body crashed into me. Sophie had hobbled down the stairs as fast as she could. She threw her arms around my neck, burying her face in my shoulder, sobbing against my collarbone.

“You saved me,” Sophie cried. “Miss Claire, you saved me.”

I wrapped my arms around the little girl, burying my face in her hair, tears finally streaming down my own cheeks. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. You’re safe now.”

Luca knelt beside us, wrapping his massive arms around both of us, pulling us into a tight, fiercely protective embrace. For the first time in three years, the Moretti house didn’t feel like a tomb. It felt like a family.

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