Chapter 9 - THE LAST WAR
Senator Charles Vane Jr. went on television the following morning.
He wore a navy suit.
An American flag stood behind him.
His wife was in federal custody.
His father was charged with murder.
And somehow he looked offended.
“My family has been targeted by criminals seeking to distract from their own illegal activities.”
Lorenzo shut off the television.
“What a terrible actor.”
Mom sat across from him.
“He doesn't need to be convincing.”
“No?”
“He needs to survive politically long enough to finish what his father started.”
The encrypted file revealed the truth.
Charles Jr. had spent years building a network separate from his father.
New judges.
New police officials.
New companies.
And a plan to destroy Lorenzo while taking control of the legal Moretti businesses.
The last name on the succession plan shocked everyone.
Victor Moretti.
Victor sat in the study under guard.
He read the document twice.
“This is fake.”
Lorenzo watched him.
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“You've worked with the Vanes for twenty years.”
“Not like this.”
“You gave them security codes.”
“I know.”
“You moved their money.”
“I know.”
“You met Margaret.”
“I know!”
Victor threw the paper down.
“I made mistakes.”
Lorenzo’s voice hardened.
“Stop calling betrayal a mistake.”
Victor stood.
Guards immediately moved.
He ignored them.
“You think I wanted your chair?”
“I think Charles believed you did.”
“He was wrong.”
“Then prove it.”
Victor stared at him.
“How?”
“Help me destroy him.”
The plan was dangerous.
Naturally.
Charles Jr. believed Victor had become isolated from the family after the kidnapping.
Victor would contact him.
Offer cooperation.
Claim Lorenzo planned to turn over the final account records to federal prosecutors.
Charles would move.
We just didn't know how.
Three days passed.
Then Victor received the message.
DINNER. 8 P.M. THE LEDGER CLUB.
The Ledger Club was an old private dining hall in downtown Chicago.
Politicians loved it.
So did judges.
No cameras.
No phones.
No witnesses.
Except Victor wore a recording device.
Federal agents waited nearby.
Lorenzo remained at the Moretti estate.
So did I.
At least that was the plan.
At 8:37 p.m., Victor's audio cut out.
Lorenzo immediately stood.
“Something's wrong.”
Ten seconds later, every light in the estate died.
My blood froze.
Not again.
Backup generators failed.
Security radios went silent.
Lorenzo grabbed my hand.
“Basement.”
“Toby and Mom.”
“Already moving.”
Gunfire erupted outside.
Windows shattered.
Isabella screamed from the hallway.
Lorenzo pushed us toward the safe room.
Then someone stepped from the darkness.
Senator Charles Vane Jr.
He held a gun.
I had seen him at the gala.
Polished.
Respectable.
Tonight his face looked almost peaceful.
“Interesting,” he said. “You really did bring her home.”
Lorenzo moved in front of me.
“How did you get inside?”
Charles smiled.
“Your father built tunnels.”
Lorenzo went still.
Apparently that was news.
“Victor?”
“Dead, probably.”
My stomach twisted.
Charles looked at me.
“Your mother caused my family twenty-seven years of inconvenience.”
I stepped beside Lorenzo.
He tried to move me back.
I refused.
“Your family killed my father.”
“Yes.”
“Tried to kill my mother.”
“Yes.”
“Kidnapped my brother.”
“My father was sentimental.”
I stared at him.
“You call that sentimental?”
“He kept the boy alive.”
Lorenzo’s voice turned cold.
“Why are you here?”
“To finish it.”
Charles pointed the gun toward me.
“Margaret's bloodline ends.”
Lorenzo moved.
“Don't.”
Charles smiled.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“Love.”
The word stunned me.
Lorenzo didn't react.
Charles continued.
“My father always said love ruined Antonio.”
“Your father misunderstood Antonio.”
“And you?”
Lorenzo glanced at me.
Just once.
Then back.
“I understand perfectly.”
Charles raised the weapon.
A voice came from behind him.
“Then maybe you should understand this.”
Victor.
Charles spun.
Victor fired.
So did Charles.
Two shots.
Victor fell.
Charles staggered.
Lorenzo lunged.
They crashed into the wall.
The gun skidded across the floor.
I ran toward it.
Charles kicked Lorenzo in the injured side.
Lorenzo went down.
Charles reached for the weapon.
I got there first.
I picked it up.
Both men froze.
Charles stared at me.
I pointed it at him.
My hands shook.
“Don't.”
He smiled.
“You won't shoot.”
“I might.”
“No.”
He took one step.
“You're your mother’s daughter.”
Another.
“She never had the stomach.”
“Stop.”
Another.
Lorenzo was trying to stand.
“Sophie.”
Charles lunged.
A gunshot exploded.
He dropped.
I screamed.
But I hadn't fired.
Mom stood at the end of the hallway.
Smoke rose from the gun in her hand.
Charles collapsed.
Alive.
Shot through the leg.
Mom looked at him.
“Twenty-seven years.”
Her voice shook.
“You should have stayed away from my children.”
Federal agents stormed the property minutes later.
Victor survived.
Barely.
Apparently Charles had suspected his betrayal and forced him back to the estate to watch the Moretti family die.
Instead, Victor had escaped his restraints and followed.
For the first time in years, he had chosen correctly.
Charles Vane Jr. was arrested.
The last of the network began collapsing.
Judges resigned.
Police officials were indicted.
Companies were seized.
The Vane dynasty disappeared from public life with astonishing speed.
But Lorenzo paid a price too.
Federal investigators made it clear.
Cooperation didn't erase his own history.
He faced charges related to businesses he had controlled.
One evening, we sat beneath the old trees behind the estate.
“You might go to prison,” I said.
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Lawyers say maybe three years. Maybe less.”
My throat tightened.
He looked at me.
“You should leave.”
I laughed softly.
“You've spent weeks refusing to let me leave.”
“That was before.”
“Before what?”
“Before I knew you mattered enough to lose.”
I turned toward him.
“So your solution is to lose me on purpose?”
His jaw tightened.
“I don't want you waiting for a man like me.”
“I decide what I do.”
“Sophie.”
“No.”
I stood.
“You don't get to protect me from choices I haven't made.”
He stared at me.
“You want a normal life.”
“Yes.”
“I am not normal.”
“Obviously.”
His mouth twitched.
I moved closer.
“But maybe I'm not asking you to be.”
His eyes changed.
“Then what are you asking?”
“Whether you want a different life.”
He looked toward the house.
At Isabella.
At Mom.
At Toby shooting basketball with two security guards who were deliberately losing.
Then he looked back at me.
“Yes.”
One word.
No hesitation.
So I kissed him.
Not because he was powerful.
Not because he saved Toby.
Not because Chicago feared him.
I kissed him because for the first time since I had met Lorenzo Moretti, he was standing in front of me with no threat, no order, no protection to offer.
Just the truth.
He kissed me back carefully.
Almost like he couldn't believe he was allowed.
When we separated, he rested his forehead against mine.
“I have to surrender Monday.”
“I know.”
“You're still here?”
“Yes.”
He closed his eyes.
“Why?”
I smiled.
“Because someone once told an entire ballroom I was under his protection.”
“And?”
May you like
I took his hand.
“Turns out protection goes both ways.”
