Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 11 - Chapitre 20

Vincent did not speak until the car was already moving. His hand stayed locked around the cracked phone case. “Call the hospital,” he said. “Use my line. Ask for the private wing nurse station. Confirm your mother is still there and still breathing.” I took the phone. My fingers shook once before I forced them steady. The nurse answered on the second ring. “This is Sienna Rossi. I need to speak to whoever is watching Maria Rossi right now.” A short pause. “One moment.” Another voice came on, older, careful. “Ms. Rossi, your mother is stable. Insulin schedule is on track. Is something wrong?” “Has anyone new tried to see her in the last hour?” “No visitors. Two of Mr. Moretti’s men are outside the door. They checked in at six this morning.” I looked at Vincent. He gave a single nod. “Keep them there,” I said into the phone. “No one else gets near her. Not even hospital staff without both guards present.” “Understood.” I ended the call and handed the phone back. “S

The drive back to the estate took forty-one minutes. Vincent broke every speed limit without speaking a single word, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. I sat in the passenger seat with the black-handled knife already gripped tightly in my right hand, blade closed but ready for instant deployment. The main iron gates stood wide open when we slammed around the final bend. No guards were in sight. Smoke curled lazily from a second-floor window on the far east side of the main house, staining the afternoon sky gray. Vincent slammed the car to a sudden, violent stop in the gravel driveway and was out of the door before the engine had fully died. I followed half a step behind him, heels digging into the dirt. The front door hung slightly ajar. Inside the grand foyer, the sharp smell of burning fabric and scorched wood hit us first. We took the marble stairs two steps at a time in absolute silence. The east wing hallway was already thick with heavy gray smoke that stung my

The captains arrived at the estate just after sunrise. Russo first, coat still damp from the drive. DeLuca next. Four others who did not take off their jackets. Carmine came last, moving slowly with his cane, face gray with exhaustion and something that looked like grief. Vincent had Julian brought into the main study in the same clothes from the night before. The marks on his wrists were still red. Elena sat in a chair near the wall and kept her eyes on the rug. I stood at Vincent’s side. The platinum band on my finger felt heavier than it had in the chapel. Vincent laid the laptop and the printed transfer records on the desk. “Eighteen million,” he said. “Skimmed from the docks. Moved through shells Elena helped create. Julian tried to send it offshore last night. We stopped both transfers. The money is already being returned to the family accounts.” Russo pulled the pages closer. “These routing numbers match the night containers. I sat on those books for two years and I s

The phones from the clinic yielded three numbers and a short list of names by early afternoon. Vincent’s people worked the data while we sat in the study with coffee that had gone cold. Russo arrived just after one. He looked at the blood still under my nails and said nothing about it. “Torren was paid through a shell that traces back to one of Julian’s remaining dock contacts,” Russo said. “The contact is a man named Vito Bianchi. He is still in the city. We have an address in Red Hook.” Vincent leaned back in his chair. “How many men does Bianchi keep.” “Four regulars. Maybe six if he panics.” “And Julian.” “Still under the guard we set. He has made two calls from the house phone. Both to numbers that no longer answer.” I spoke for the first time. “Bianchi ordered the clinic hit.” “He passed the order,” Russo said. “Julian is still the source. Bianchi is just the hand that still moves.” Vincent looked at me. “We take Bianchi tonight. Quiet if possible. Loud if ne

The private airstrip sat dark except for the lights along the single runway. The wind came off the grass and smelled like fuel. Julian arrived in a black van under guard, wrists free but with two of Vincent’s men close enough to touch him. Elena stood a few yards away, arms wrapped around herself against the night. Vincent and I waited near the jet stairs. The engines were already turning. Julian stopped when he saw me. The old charm was gone. What remained was raw and ugly. “You think this is victory,” he said. “You are still just the girl I threw away.” “I am the girl who kept the money in the country and the mother alive,” I answered. “You are the one leaving with nothing.” He looked at Elena. “And you. You always did like standing near the winner.” Elena did not lift her head. “I am standing near an exit. That is all.” Vincent’s voice cut across the tarmac. “On the plane. Now.” Julian looked at his uncle. “You will regret choosing her.” “I already chose,” Vincen