Chapter 6 – The Scary Lady And The Nice Lady

“Did you really think I wouldn’t know where you’d run, Emily?”

Vanessa’s voice drifted through the metal vent, dripping with venom.

I threw my weight against the heavy steel door. It didn’t budge.

“Let us out, Vanessa!” Michael yelled, banging his fists against the metal. “If Luca dies because of you—”

“Luca won’t die,” Vanessa interrupted smoothly. “My father’s doctor is patching his shoulder upstairs right now. Luca is going to sign the papers to save you, Michael. And once he does, my father will finally own this city.”

“You’re sick,” I cried out. “My mother did nothing to you! You used her!”

A cold laugh echoed through the vent.

“Your mother was convenient, Emily. A poor, gullible woman desperate for cash. She was the perfect place to stash the brat until my father was ready to use him.”

“Where is he?” I demanded. “Where is Toby?”

“You mean Leo?” Vanessa sneered. “Oh, he’s exactly where you left him. In the guest house. With your sweet, stupid mother.”

My stomach dropped.

“Please,” I begged, pressing my face to the cold metal. “Vanessa, he’s just a little boy. Don’t hurt them.”

“I’m not going to hurt them,” Vanessa said lightly. “My father’s men are already on their way to the guest house. They’ll take care of it quietly. And when the police find their bodies in the lake tomorrow, I’ll be the grieving stepmother who just lost her fiancé’s child all over again.”

Footsteps clicked away on the tile floor outside.

“Goodbye, Emily.”

“Vanessa! VANESSA!” I screamed, pounding the door until my knuckles bled.

I slumped against the door, defeated.

My mother. Toby. They were going to die, and I was locked in a basement.

“Stand back,” Carlo said quietly.

I looked up.

Carlo was holding a small, silver object. It looked like a pen, but he unscrewed the cap, revealing a thick metal spike.

“A gentleman from Rome always carries a glass-breaker,” Carlo said.

He didn’t aim for the door. He aimed for the narrow, reinforced glass window near the ceiling of the laundry room.

He slammed the spike into the corner of the glass.

A spiderweb of cracks appeared.

Michael didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the heavy fire extinguisher from the wall and smashed it into the weakened glass.

The window shattered, raining glass onto the floor.

“Boost me up,” I said immediately.

Michael cupped his hands, and I stepped into them. He lifted me, and I scrambled through the narrow window, tearing my apron on the jagged edges.

I fell into the damp, dark bushes outside the mansion.

The night air was freezing.

Michael squeezed through next, followed by Carlo, who landed gracefully despite his tailored suit.

“The guest house is across the gardens,” Michael whispered, pointing through the darkness.

We sprinted through the manicured hedges, staying low to avoid the security lights.

As we approached the small, cottage-like guest house, I saw a light flickering in the window.

And then I saw them.

Two large men in dark coats were walking up the steps to the front door.

One of them pulled out a gun and screwed a long black silencer onto the barrel.

“No,” I gasped, breaking into a run.

Michael tackled me into the bushes before I could yell.

“You can’t take them both,” Michael hissed. “They’ll kill you.”

“I don’t care!” I cried, struggling against his grip.

But Carlo put a hand on my shoulder.

“You do not have to take them,” Carlo said quietly, pointing toward the shadows near the guest house porch.

Standing in the darkness, bleeding heavily from his shoulder, gripping a heavy steel crowbar, was Luca Moretti.

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