“Emily,” Luca said quietly from the driver’s seat.
I looked at him.
“My wife’s name was Clara,” he said softly, his eyes fixed on the road. “She was a school teacher. She hated this life. She hated the violence. She stayed because she loved me, and because she wanted to protect Oliver.”
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
“I failed her. I let Vanessa into our lives because she was the daughter of a powerful boss. I thought it would bring peace to the families. Instead, it brought a murderer into my home.”
“You didn’t know,” I whispered.
“I should have,” Luca replied bitterly. “But I will not fail you. Your mother is innocent in all of this.”
We pulled up to the abandoned rail yard. The rusted train cars loomed in the darkness like metal skeletons.
Two black sedans were parked near the center tracks, their headlights cutting through the pouring rain.
Standing in front of the cars was a tall man in a dark trench coat. Even from a distance, I could see the thick silver scar on his jaw.
Dominic.
And kneeling in the mud beside him, with a gun pressed to her head, was my mother.
“Mom!” I screamed, lunging for the door handle.
Luca locked the doors from the driver’s console. “Stay here.”
He grabbed a heavy metal briefcase from the backseat and stepped out into the rain.
“Dominic!” Luca’s voice boomed across the empty yard. “I have the ledgers. Let the woman go.”
Dominic smiled. “Not so fast, little cousin. First, you toss the briefcase over. Then, we discuss Vanessa.”
“Vanessa is your problem now,” Luca shot back, walking slowly toward them.
“Actually,” Dominic chuckled, stepping aside to reveal the open trunk of one of the sedans.
My blood ran cold.
Lying in the trunk, bound and gagged, was Vanessa Bellini.
“Vanessa wasn’t just a spy, Luca,” Dominic yelled over the rain. “She’s the one who stole the union money two years ago. She framed me so you would exile me, leaving her a clear path to marry you.”
Luca stopped walking.
“I didn’t cause your wife’s crash, Luca,” Dominic said, his smile fading. “Vanessa did. But there’s something you still don’t know.”
Dominic reached into his coat and pulled out a small, waterproof envelope.
“Vanessa didn’t just push Clara’s foot off the brake,” Dominic yelled. “She was paid to do it.”
He threw the envelope onto the muddy ground.
“Open it, Luca! Look at the bank transfer! Look at who paid your beautiful fiancée to murder your wife!”
