Chapter 4 - THE TIDE TURNS
Juliet’s right-hand guard collapsed onto the concrete floor with a heavy thud, his pistol clattering away into the shadows.
Blood pooled beneath his shoulder.
Behind Juliet, stepping from the dark stone corridor she had just emerged from, stood a tall man in a dripping trench coat. He held a high-caliber revolver, smoke drifting slowly from the barrel.
Uncle Dominic.
Lorenzo’s senior Capo and his father’s most trusted advisor.
Behind Dominic were four heavily armed men wearing tactical gear, their weapons trained instantly on Juliet and her remaining guard.
“Drop it, son,” Dominic said, his gravelly voice echoing off the damp stone walls.
The second guard didn't hesitate. He dropped his weapon and raised his hands, stepping away from Juliet.
Juliet spun around, her eyes wide with shock and absolute terror. “Dominic! How did you—”
“Lorenzo has a tracker in his watch, Juliet,” Dominic said coldly, stepping over the wounded guard. “And when his heart rate spiked twenty minutes ago, my team mobilized. We found Marco sitting in a getaway car at the end of the driveway. He’s currently in the trunk of my Cadillac, explaining how much you paid him.”
Juliet backed away until her spine hit the stone wall. Her flawless, aristocratic mask was completely gone, replaced by the frantic panic of a trapped animal.
Dominic walked over to Lorenzo, looking down at his bleeding nephew with a mixture of relief and stern disapproval. “You look terrible, kid.”
“I’ve had a busy evening,” Lorenzo rasped, wincing as he shifted on the cot. “Clara saved my life. Twice.”
Dominic turned his sharp, gray eyes toward me. He looked at my blood-stained apron, the improvised pressure bandage on Lorenzo’s torso, and the small three-year-old girl holding my hand.
“Is this true, girl?” Dominic asked.
“My name is Clara,” I said, pulling Emma closer. “And yes. I patched him up.”
Dominic gave a slow, respectful nod. “Then the Duca family owes you a debt that can never fully be repaid.”
He signaled to two of his men. “Get the boss to the private clinic in Westchester. Move quiet, move fast. The Morettis are going to realise their plan failed within the hour.”
The men expertly transferred Lorenzo onto a portable stretcher they had brought down the stairs. As they lifted him, Lorenzo reached out, grabbing my wrist with surprising strength for a man who had lost so much blood.
“Clara,” he said, his dark eyes burning into mine. “You and Emma are coming with me.”
I shook my head. “No, Lorenzo. Your war is over. I just want to take my daughter back to our apartment and—”
“Your apartment is no longer safe,” Lorenzo interrupted, his voice leave no room for argument. “Juliet knows who you are. The Morettis will search for anyone connected to tonight. Until every traitor is buried, you and Emma are under my personal protection.”
I looked down at Emma. She was rubbing her eyes, exhausted, her pink dress ruined, clutching her one-eyed rabbit like a lifeline. He was right. We were part of this now, whether I wanted to be or not.
“Fine,” I said softly. “But no guns around my daughter.”
A faint, genuine smile touched Lorenzo’s pale lips. “Deal.”
Ten minutes later, we were in the back of an armored SUV, speeding away from the Duca estate through the pouring rain. Juliet sat handcuffed in the trailing vehicle, her fate already decided by the brutal laws of the underworld she had tried to conquer.
We arrived at a secluded medical compound nestled deep in the hills of Westchester County. Within minutes, a team of private surgeons had taken Lorenzo into an operating room to properly clean the wound and repair the damaged tissue.
Emma and I were given a luxury suite on the top floor. I bathed my daughter, washed the mud from her hair, and tucked her into a massive king-sized bed with crisp white sheets.
Within five minutes, her soft, rhythmic breathing filled the room. She was finally safe.
I sat in an armchair by the window, staring out at the storm, my hands still smelling faintly of copper and antiseptic.
A soft knock came at the door.
I opened it to find Dominic standing in the hallway, holding a thick, manila envelope and a steaming cup of tea.
“She’s asleep?” he asked softly.
“Yes,” I replied, taking the tea. “Thank you.”
Dominic handed me the envelope. “Lorenzo ordered me to give you this before he went into surgery.”
I opened the flap. Inside was a legal deed to a beautiful brownstone in Brooklyn, alongside a bank document establishing a five-million-dollar trust fund in Emma’s name.
My breath caught in my throat. “I can’t accept this.”
“You can, and you will,” Dominic said firmly. “Lorenzo Duca does not leave his debts unpaid, Clara. But there’s something else you need to know.”
He pulled a small leather-bound notebook from his jacket.
“This belonged to Juliet,” Dominic said. “We found it in her safe. It lists every contact she had in the city... including the name of the man who ran over your husband three years ago.”
My heart stopped.
May you like
The hit-and-run that had killed my husband, ruined my life, and forced me to drop out of nursing school... hadn't been an accident.
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