CHAPTER 21 : The Heir

The Motel 6 on the edge of the city was a far cry from the penthouse.

The sheets smelled like bleach and stale cigarettes. The neon sign outside flickered with a buzzing sound that was driving me insane.

I sat on the lumpy mattress, my laptop open in front of me. I had been staring at the screen for three hours, my eyes burning.

I had left Julian. I had walked out on the man who saved my life because I couldn't stomach his past. But now, alone in the dark, the silence felt less like freedom and more like a mistake.

Focus, I told myself. Find the truth.

I had Julian’s credit card number memorized (a habit from my librarian days), but I didn't dare use it. He would track me in seconds. Instead, I was using the free motel Wi-Fi to dig into the public records of "V&T Imports."

I scrolled through property tax records from 2004.

Owner: Vencetti & Thorne Holdings. Status: Dissolved (2005).

I clicked on the dissolution paperwork. It was a scanned P*F, grainy and faded. I scrolled to the bottom to see who had signed off on the split after the fire.

There was Julian’s father, Marcus Thorne. There was Luca’s father, Giovanni Vencetti.

And there was a third signature. A witness.

I zoomed in.

Eleanor Hayes.

My breath caught in my throat. My mother. She wasn't just a bystander. She was there. She had signed the dissolution papers days before she died.

Why would a schoolteacher be signing mafia business documents?

I clicked on the "Asset Division" addendum.

"Upon dissolution, the deed to the warehouse land (Plot 4B) and all subterranean assets shall transfer to the Witness in a blind trust."

I read it three times.

The land didn't go to the Thornes. It didn't go to the Vencettis. It went to the Witness. It went to my mother.

And when she died...

"It went to me," I whispered to the empty room.

I stood up, pacing the small space. I was the owner. I owned the land where the fire happened. I owned whatever was buried underneath it ("subterranean assets").

That’s why Luca wanted me. That’s why Julian married me.

Julian didn't burn the warehouse to kill people. He burned it to hide whatever was underneath it—and then he married me to keep the deed in his house.

"It's all business," I said, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "It was never about saving me. It was about the land."

Knock. Knock.

I froze.

I looked at the flimsy wooden door. I hadn't ordered room service. I hadn't told anyone where I was.

Knock. Knock.

"Housekeeping," a muffled voice called out.

I grabbed the lamp from the bedside table, ripping the cord from the wall. I held it like a baseball bat.

"I didn't ask for housekeeping!" I shouted. "Go away!"

The doorknob turned. The lock clicked.

My heart stopped. I had locked that deadbolt.

The door swung open slowly.

It wasn't a maid in a uniform.

It was a man in a black trench coat. He was huge, filling the entire doorframe. And behind him, leaning casually against the railing of the motel walkway, was Luca Vencetti.

Luca smiled, his teeth white in the gloom.

"Hello, heiress," he purred. "I told you Julian couldn't protect you forever."

I didn't think. I threw the lamp.

It smashed against the big man’s chest, shattering into ceramic shards. He didn't even flinch. He lunged forward.

I scrambled back, climbing over the bed, reaching for the window.

"Grab her," Luca said, sounding bored. "But be careful with her head. She needs to be conscious to sign the transfer papers."

The big man caught my ankle.

"No!" I screamed, kicking wildly. "Let me go!"

I clawed at the mattress, at the curtains, at anything. But he was too strong. He dragged me back across the bed like a ragdoll.

"You should have stayed in the tower, Vivian," Luca said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. The sound of the latch clicking shut was final.

He walked over to me, looking down as his goon pinned my arms to the mattress.

"Julian burned that warehouse to keep me from my birthright," Luca whispered, leaning close to my face. "And tonight, you are going to give it back."

He pulled a syringe from his coat pocket.

"Don't worry," he said, uncapping the needle. "It’s just a little sedative. The drive to the warehouse is long, and I hate screaming."

"Julian will kill you!" I sobbed, struggling against the iron grip. "He'll kill you all!"

"He has to find you first," Luca grinned.

He plunged the needle into my neck.

The world went gray. Then black.