Chapter 11 – THE HEIR TO THE EMPIRE

“Pack your bags, now,” Linda ordered, her voice pure steel.

She ran to the hallway closet, pulling out a heavy duffel bag and a lockbox I had never seen before.

“We have ten minutes before they decide to kick the door in,” Linda said.

Madison was frozen in her chair, shaking violently.

“I can’t,” Madison sobbed. “If I go with you, they’ll kill you both. They only want me. I’m the heir.”

“You’re my sister,” I said, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her up. “I didn’t spend nineteen months rebuilding that truck to let the Chicago mafia take you away. Move!”

We scrambled to grab whatever we could.

I ran to my room, threw some clothes into a backpack, and grabbed my tools.

When I got back downstairs, Linda was loading a revolver on the kitchen counter.

“Aunt Linda?!” I gasped.

“Your grandfather wasn’t the only one who learned a few things in Chicago,” she said grimly, clicking the cylinder into place.

She tossed me the keys to the blue Ford.

“We can’t take my car. They’ve probably slashed the tires or tracked it. We take the truck.”

We sneaked out the back door, running through the dense woods behind Linda’s house, circling back to where the blue truck was parked in the alley behind the driveway.

I unlocked the doors, and we piled in.

I put the key in the ignition.

I turned it.

The engine clicked, but didn’t turn over.

“Come on,” I whispered, panic rising in my throat.

I turned it again. Nothing.

“They cut the fuel line,” a voice said from the darkness.

I screamed.

The man in the tailored suit stepped out from the shadows of the garage.

He was holding a suppressed handgun, aimed right at my window.

Linda raised her revolver, but the man didn’t even flinch.

“Put it down, Ms. Carter,” the man said smoothly. “Or I shoot the mechanic.”

Linda hesitated, then slowly lowered her gun.

The man walked up to the glass and looked directly at Madison.

“Hello, Grace,” he said.

Madison pressed herself against the back of the seat. “Don’t call me that.”

The man smiled. It wasn’t a cruel smile. It was polite, almost respectful.

“My name is Luca Moretti,” the man said. “I’m your uncle.”

I stared at him. This was the mob boss?

“You sent men to kill my parents!” Madison yelled.

Luca shook his head slowly.

“No. My aunt Celia sent them. I didn’t know you existed until yesterday.”

He lowered his gun, sliding it back into his holster.

“Celia kept your survival a secret to protect her claim to the family empire. But she slipped up. She left a DNA test in her safe.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the missing half of the child’s drawing.

He pressed it against the glass.

“I didn’t come here to kill you, Grace. I came to bring you home. The hitmen at the cabin were Celia’s men. I had them dealt with.”

“What about David?” Linda asked suspiciously.

Luca’s eyes hardened. “David Carter was a liability to everyone. I handled a threat.”

He looked at me.

“You’re Olivia.”

I nodded, gripping the steering wheel tight.

“Your grandfather was a good man,” Luca said quietly. “He saved my sister’s life thirty years ago. I owe your family a debt.”

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a thick envelope, tossing it through the open window onto my lap.

“Clean titles, new identities, and enough money to disappear if you want to. Or, you can stay. Celia’s men are gone. The threat is neutralized.”

Luca stepped back, looking at Madison one last time.

“You are a Moretti, Grace. If you ever need me, you know where to find me.”

He turned and walked away into the darkness, disappearing as quietly as he had arrived.

I looked down at the envelope in my lap.

Then I looked at Madison.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

Madison took a deep breath, looking at the spot where Luca had vanished.

“My name is Madison,” she said firmly. “And I’m exactly where I belong.”

I smiled, finally feeling the weight of the last ten years lift off my shoulders.

I reached under the dashboard, reconnected the spark plug wire I had secretly pulled earlier, and turned the key.

The engine roared to life.

And as the blue 1972 Ford pickup rolled out onto the open highway beneath the morning sun, we didn’t look back once.

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