Chapter 6 – THE WOMAN IN THE GUEST ROOM

The stone walls of the basement seemed to collapse in on me.

“You’re lying,” I whispered, stepping back. “My mother lives alone. She has a live-in care nurse named Sarah.”

Bianca let out a breathless, desperate laugh. “Sarah? You idiot. Do you really think a registered nurse would work seventy hours a week for the pennies you sent home?”

My mind raced backward, spinning through the last eleven months.

When my mother’s dementia worsened, I couldn’t afford a facility. I posted an ad online. A woman named Sarah answered it. She had dark hair, brown eyes, and told me she just needed a quiet place to live with her young daughter. She refused any payment, saying free rent was enough.

I worked six days a week at the Moretti estate. I barely went home. When I did, I slept in the living room. Sarah kept to the upstairs guest room with her daughter. I barely saw them.

“Sarah was Caroline,” Dominic realized, his voice hollow with shock.

“She hid in plain sight,” Bianca spat. “She knew I was looking for her. So she moved into the home of my own housemaid. She knew I would never bother checking on the miserable life of the help.”

It all made sense. The little girl in the yellow coat. She wasn’t just a stranger at the back door three weeks ago. She lived in my house.

And last night, when I was working a double shift to prepare for the birthday dinner, Vincent finally tracked her down.

“He went to your house last night,” Bianca said, glaring at me. “He found Caroline. He pushed her down the stairs. But he didn’t realize the little brat had hidden in the closet.”

“And my mother?” I asked, tears streaming down my face. “Did he kill her too?”

Bianca hesitated.

Before she could answer, the heavy oak door at the top of the basement stairs burst open.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the stone corridor.

“Dominic!” a voice boomed.

I whipped around, aiming the gun at the staircase.

Four massive men in tactical gear rushed down the stairs, assault rifles raised.

I froze, fully expecting them to gun us all down.

But they didn’t aim at Dominic. They aimed straight at Bianca.

A tall man in a tailored charcoal suit walked down the steps behind them. He had silver hair and a deeply scarred face.

It was Carlo Moretti. Dominic’s uncle. The head of the East Side territory.

“Uncle Carlo,” Dominic breathed out, lowering his guard slightly.

Carlo looked at the chaotic scene. He saw Bianca against the wall. He saw Mrs. Moretti clutching Rosa’s wheelchair.

Then he looked at Dominic.

“Vincent’s men just tried to seize the downtown shipping ports,” Carlo said gruffly. “They claimed you were dead. I assumed my niece finally made her move.”

“Vincent is unconscious in the old greenhouse,” Dominic said, stepping forward. “Secure him.”

Carlo nodded to his men. Two of them turned and sprinted back up the stairs.

“And Bianca?” Carlo asked, looking at his niece with absolute disgust.

“Take her,” Dominic said coldly. “Lock her in the vault at the downtown office. I’ll deal with her tomorrow.”

Bianca began screaming as Carlo’s men grabbed her arms. “You can’t do this! I am a Moretti! I protected this family!”

“Get her out of my sight,” Dominic ordered.

As they dragged Bianca screaming up the stairs, Carlo walked over to Dominic. He looked down at Mia, who was clinging tightly to my leg.

“Is that her?” Carlo asked softly.

“That’s Caroline’s daughter. My daughter.”

Carlo sighed heavily. “Dominic, there’s something you need to know.”

My heart plummeted into my stomach. I knew what was coming.

“My men intercepted Vincent’s crew at the maid’s house twenty minutes ago,” Carlo said, glancing at me. “They were pouring gasoline on the porch.”

“My mother,” I sobbed. “Please, is she alive?”

Carlo looked at me. His hard, scarred face softened.

“Yes, Elena. She is alive.”

I let out a loud gasp, covering my mouth as a fresh wave of tears hit me.

“She’s frightened, and confused, but my men got her out safely. She’s at the downtown hospital being checked over.”

I dropped to my knees on the cold stone floor, crying uncontrollably. She was safe. My mother was safe.

Suddenly, I felt small, warm arms wrap around my neck.

Mia hugged me tight. “Don’t cry, nice lady.”

I hugged her back, burying my face in her yellow coat.

“Elena.”

I looked up. Dominic was standing over me. The mafia boss held out his hand to his housemaid.

“Come on,” he said gently. “Let’s go get your mother.”

I took his hand. He pulled me up.

We walked upstairs, into the warm light of the kitchen. For the first time in hours, I felt like I could breathe.

But as we reached the front hallway, Carlo’s radio crackled loudly.

“Boss, we have a problem.”

Carlo grabbed the radio. “What is it?”

“We checked the greenhouse. Vincent isn’t here.”

Dominic froze.

“And boss?” the voice on the radio hesitated. “We found a bomb wired to the estate’s main gas line. The timer has ninety seconds left.”

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