Chapter 7 - THE FALSE EXECUTION
Evelyn backed away from Lorenzo, the yellowed document trembling in her hand. The blood roared in her ears, drowning out the sound of the rain lashing against the broken window.
"You killed him," she choked out, her voice breaking. "You looked me in the eye tonight, let me save your life, and you were the one who murdered my father?"
Lorenzo stepped toward her, his hands raised in surrender. "Evelyn, please. Look closer at the paper. Look at the date."
She wiped her tearing eyes and forced herself to focus on the ink.
November 14, 2016.
"I was nineteen years old," Lorenzo said, his voice raw with emotion she had never heard from him. "My father had just been murdered. Silas put that contract on my desk and told me to sign it to prove my loyalty to the family. He told me your father was a rat who had stolen our fortune."
"So you signed it," Evelyn spat, a sob escaping her throat.
"I signed it," Lorenzo admitted, his eyes dark with regret. "But I didn't execute it."
Evelyn froze.
Lorenzo reached out slowly, taking the paper from her shaking hands. "I knew your father, Evelyn. He used to sneak me candy when Silas was screaming at me. I knew he wasn't a traitor. So, I signed the order to satisfy Silas, but I went to your father that night and warned him."
"You... you warned him?"
"I gave him a fake passport, a car, and twenty thousand dollars of my own money," Lorenzo said softly. "I told him to run. To take you and your mother and vanish. But he refused. He said if he ran, Silas would never stop hunting you. So, he faked his own drowning."
Evelyn’s knees buckled. Lorenzo caught her, holding her gently by the arms.
"He’s alive?" Evelyn whispered, her mind unable to process the magnitude of the words. "My dad is alive?"
"I don't know," Lorenzo said honestly. "I haven't seen him since that night. But he left that ledger for a reason. He knew one day, Silas and Celeste would make their move against me. He left the proof I needed to destroy them."
A sudden groan broke the heavy silence in the room.
On the floor, Celeste Vane was stirring. She spat a mouthful of blood onto the hardwood floor, her manicured fingers weakly grabbing for the shotgun she had dropped.
Before she could reach it, a heavy, polished leather shoe slammed down on her wrist.
Silas Moretti stepped into the bedroom, holding a sleek, suppressed pistol. His silver hair was plastered to his skull from the rain, and his bespoke coat was ruined, but his eyes were filled with triumphant malice.
"A touching story, Enzo," Silas sneered, keeping the gun leveled at Lorenzo's head. "Too bad the ending is a tragedy."
Behind Silas, three of his armed enforcers filed into the room, their weapons trained on Lorenzo and Evelyn. The trap had closed.
"Give me the ledger, Enzo," Silas demanded, holding out his free hand. "And I'll make it quick. I might even let the waitress walk away."
"You're lying," Lorenzo said, his posture straightening into the terrifying, unyielding boss of the syndicate. "You leave no loose ends. You never have."
Silas chuckled, a dry, rattling sound. "True. But it doesn't matter. You're out of plays."
"Am I?" Lorenzo asked, a dark, chilling smile spreading across his face.
He didn't look at Silas. He looked over Silas's shoulder, directly at the shattered bedroom window.
Silas frowned, his eyes darting toward the window for a fraction of a second.
It was all the distraction needed.
From the dark hallway behind Silas, a small figure darted out. Leo, still in his Batman pajamas, threw a handful of heavy glass marbles—the ones from the wooden puzzle box—directly under the feet of the three enforcers.
The men slipped, their heavy boots scrambling for traction on the slick hardwood floor.
In that microsecond of chaos, Lorenzo lunged.
He didn't go for Silas. He went for the heavy iron radiator under the window, kicking the pressure valve he had rigged earlier when he broke the tracker.
A massive blast of scalding white steam erupted into the room, blinding everyone.
"Evelyn! Get down!" Lorenzo roared over the hiss of the steam.
Guns fired blindly into the thick white cloud. Evelyn threw herself to the floor, covering her head as bullets tore through the drywall. She crawled frantically toward the hallway, reaching out until her hand found the small, trembling shoulder of Leo. She pulled the boy tight against her chest, shielding him.
Suddenly, the firing stopped. A heavy thud shook the floorboards.
As the steam began to clear, Evelyn looked up, her heart stopping.
Two of the enforcers were on the ground, unconscious. Silas stood near the doorway, holding a bleeding arm, his gun knocked away.
But in the center of the room, Celeste had managed to grab her shotgun.
And she had it pointed directly at Evelyn and Leo.
"Goodbye, waitress," Celeste snarled, her face twisted in rage, her finger tightening on the trigger.
A gunshot rang out.
But it didn't come from the shotgun.
Celeste’s eyes went wide. The shotgun slipped from her fingers, clattering loudly against the wood. She stumbled backward, clutching her chest, and fell to the ground.
As she hit the floor, a bloody gold money clip tumbled from her coat pocket, skidding to a halt right at Evelyn's feet.
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Standing in the doorway behind Silas, holding a smoking revolver, was a man in a faded raincoat. He was older, with graying hair and a tired face, but Evelyn recognized those eyes instantly.
"Dad," Evelyn breathed.
