Chapter 14: The Planted Knife

"Where is the ledger, Victoria? And where is my father?”

My voice didn't waver. I stood in the center of the silent boardroom, Enzo’s hand locked around mine, the eyes of the five most dangerous men in the country burning into my skin.

Victoria’s face was a mask of crumbling composure. She looked at Don Abramo, expecting him to raise his gun again, but he remained frozen, his eyes darting nervously between me and the trembling Godfather at my side.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Victoria sneered, lifting her chin. “You’re the one who orchestrated this. You killed those guards. You planted the bomb.”

“Enough!” Enzo’s voice cracked like a whip through the room. He took a heavy step forward, pulling me with him. His face was deathly pale, a sheen of sweat on his brow, but the sheer, lethal authority radiating from him silenced the room. “I am your Godfather. You will show me the respect I am owed, or I will remind you why you fear me.”

Don Abramo swallowed hard, stepping back. “Godfather, we meant no disrespect. But Victoria brought us evidence. She showed us the security footage from the mansion. The woman in the footage was wearing Mrs. Vitale’s dress.”

“A frame job,” I said, stepping forward, shielding Enzo slightly as I felt his grip on my hand tighten with a suppressed tremor of pain. “Victoria has been working with Dante Moretti. They fabricated the footage. They planted the evidence. And they blew up the cemetery to cover their tracks.”

“Lies!” Victoria shrieked. She suddenly lunged forward, pulling something from her purse.

I braced myself for a gun, but instead, she threw a heavy, leather-bound book onto the mahogany table. It landed with a thick thud.

The Vitale ledger.

“There!” Victoria yelled, her eyes wild. “I found it in her room! She stole it! She was going to sell it to the Russians to destroy us all!”

The heads of the families leaned in. Don Abramo reached out, opening the book. The pages were filled with the names of senators, judges, and police chiefs on the Vitale payroll.

Enzo stiffened beside me.

“You see?” Victoria pointed a trembling, bandaged finger at me. “She’s a Vance. She’s a traitor. She stole the ledger, and she tried to kill her own father to cover it up!”

I looked at the ledger, then up at Victoria. A cold, calm certainty settled over me.

“If I stole the ledger,” I said softly, my voice carrying through the silent room, “why is there blood on it?”

Victoria froze.

I reached out, flipping the ledger open. On the bottom edge of the pages, there was a smudge of dark, dried blood.

“That’s Dante’s blood,” I said, looking directly at Abramo. “Victoria, Dante, and my father were in the bunker. They killed the guards. The blood on that ledger matches the blood on Dante’s hands. Victoria didn’t find this in my room. She took it from the man she murdered to get it.”

Victoria’s face went slack with terror. “That’s... that’s not true!”

“Check the blood,” Enzo ordered, his voice a low, deadly rumble. “Call my lab. Run the DNA. If it’s Dante’s, Victoria is the traitor.”

Abramo looked at Enzo, then at Victoria. The room was a powder keg, the tension so thick I could barely breathe.

Suddenly, Victoria let out a deafening, hysterical scream. She lunged at me, her hand darting toward my chest.

I saw the glint of metal. A small, jagged knife, hidden up her sleeve.

Time slowed down. I saw the blade arcing toward my heart.

Before I could even flinch, Enzo moved. He didn't push me away. He spun me around, wrapping his body entirely around mine, his back taking the brunt of the attack.

I heard the sickening thud of the blade sinking into flesh.

Enzo let out a choked gasp, his body jerking against mine.

"Enzo!" I screamed.

The room erupted into chaos. Marcus and the guards lunged forward, tackling Victoria to the ground. The knife clattered to the floor, covered in blood.

I spun around, catching Enzo as he collapsed. He slid down to the floor, his face ashen, his hands clutching his side—the same side where the bullet wound had barely healed.

"No, no, no!" I cried, pressing my hands against the fresh wound. The blood was pooling through his shirt, hot and slick.

Enzo looked up at me. His lips were turning blue, his eyes glassy. But he smiled. A weak, bloody, devastating smile.

"Did... did I get her?" he rasped.

"You idiot," I sobbed, tears blinding me. "You stupid, reckless idiot. You already took a bullet for me. You don't have to keep doing this."

Enzo reached up, his bloody hand cupping my cheek. His touch sent a wave of calm through me, even as my heart was breaking.

"I told you, Sarah," he whispered, his thumb tracing my bottom lip. "I will die for you. Every single time."

"No," I snapped, my voice fierce despite the tears. "You are not dying today."

I looked up at Abramo, who was standing over us, his face pale with shock.

"Call an ambulance!" I screamed, my voice echoing through the room. "Now! Or I swear to God, I will make sure every single one of you burns with him!"

Abramo didn't hesitate. He pulled out his phone, barking orders into it.

I turned back to Enzo. His eyes were fluttering closed. The trembling in his body was returning, violent and agonizing.

"Stay with me," I whispered, pressing my forehead against his. "Don't you dare close your eyes. Do you hear me, Enzo? I'm not letting you go."

I pressed my lips against his, tasting the blood and the salt of my own tears.

"We have a wedding to finish," I choked out. "You owe me a real first dance."

A weak, rumbling chuckle escaped his throat. He tried to squeeze my hand, but his grip was failing.

"Anything... for you... wife," he breathed.

The distant wail of sirens echoed through the building.

But as I looked down at the blood pooling beneath him, I knew it might not be fast enough.

Victoria was dragged away, laughing maniacally, but I barely heard her. All I could hear was the fading beat of my husband’s heart against my palm.

And the terrifying realization that if he died, I would burn the world to ashes.