Chapter 6 - THE CONFESSION
The flashing police lights painted the study in sharp, frantic strokes of red and blue, but inside the room, time had completely stopped.
I stared at the frail woman standing in the doorway.
My mother, Mary Sullivan.
She was fifty-five years old, her hair graying at the temples, her hands knotted with arthritis from decades of cleaning houses before I had taken over the burden to support our family.
She wasn’t supposed to be here. She didn’t even own a car.
“Mom, what are you doing here?” I gasped, carefully standing up from the sofa and keeping Leo tucked behind me. “It isn’t safe!”
My mother didn’t look at me.
Her tired, tear-filled eyes were locked entirely on Luca Moretti.
Luca was standing near the fireplace, the tactical rifle still gripped loosely in his right hand. He frowned, studying her face.
“Who are you?” Luca asked, his voice guarded but lacking its previous lethal edge.
“My name is Mary,” she said softly, leaning heavily on her wooden cane. “Twenty-eight years ago, my name was Mary Rossi.”
The heavy mahogany room suddenly felt devoid of oxygen.
Vanessa, still sobbing in the corner, suddenly stopped.
Luca’s posture went instantly rigid. His hand tightened around the grip of the rifle.
“Rossi,” Luca repeated, the name tasting like ash in his mouth. “The Rossi cartel.”
“Mom, what are you saying?” I pleaded, taking a step toward her. “Our last name is Sullivan. Dad’s name was Sullivan.”
My mother finally looked at me, her heart breaking in front of my eyes.
“Your father’s name was Vincent Rossi, Emma,” she whispered. “He was the younger brother of the Rossi syndicate boss. He was a monster.”
I shook my head wildly, rejecting the impossible words. “No. No, Dad died of a heart attack when I was a baby. We have his death certificate.”
“I forged it,” she wept. “I had to. When you were born, Vincent told me he was going to arrange a marriage for you to bridge an alliance with the Russian mob. You were a month old, and he was already selling you like cattle.”
She wiped a tear from her cheek.
“So I took you, and I ran. I changed our names. I scrubbed toilets and washed floors for twenty-eight years to keep you invisible. To keep you safe.”
I backed into the edge of the coffee table, my world completely shattering.
I wasn’t just a poor housekeeper trying to pay rent.
I was the daughter of the Rossi cartel. The sworn, blood-rival family of the Moretti empire.
I looked at Luca.
The man who had just trusted me with his life. The man whose son I was currently protecting.
His dark eyes were unreadable. A mask of pure, terrifying calculation had fallen over his face.
“Why are you here, Mary?” Luca asked, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.
“Because Vanessa Bellini called my brother-in-law yesterday,” my mother confessed, pointing a shaking finger at the woman on the floor.
Vanessa shrank back, her eyes wide with panic.
“She found out who Emma really was,” my mother continued. “She hired a private investigator months ago when she realized Emma was getting too close to uncovering the boy in the garage. She told the Rossi family where we were living.”
My mother took a shaky breath.
“Tonight, the Rossi enforcers broke into my apartment. They told me Emma was being framed for kidnapping the Moretti heir, and that she was going to be killed tonight so the Bellinis could take over the territory.”
She looked at the unconscious Salvatore on the rug.
“I didn’t have a car. I begged a neighbor to drive me. I came to die with my daughter if I couldn’t save her.”
The study was silent except for the crackle of the fire and the distant shouts of police officers securing the perimeter outside.
I looked at Luca.
He hated the Rossis. They had waged a bloody turf war against his father for a decade.
If he wanted to, he could hand me over to the police right now as a co-conspirator. My true identity made Vanessa’s frame-job look incredibly plausible to any detective.
Luca slowly lowered the tactical rifle. He placed it on the mahogany desk.
He walked toward me.
My heart hammered in my throat. I didn’t move. I kept myself between him and Leo.
Luca stopped inches from me.
He reached out.
His large, calloused hand gently touched my shoulder.
“Your last name is Sullivan,” Luca said, his voice firm and absolute. “Your mother is Mary Sullivan. You are a housekeeper who just saved my son’s life. Do you understand me?”
Tears spilled hotly over my cheeks.
“Luca…” I whispered.
“The Rossi family will never touch you,” Luca promised, his dark eyes locking onto mine with a fierce, unwavering vow. “They will have to burn this city to the ground to get to you. And I will not let them light the match.”
He turned to my mother.
“Mary, sit down before you collapse,” Luca ordered gently, pulling out a plush leather chair for her.
As my mother sank into the chair, the study doors burst open again.
This time, it was the police.
Dozens of armed tactical officers flooded the room, followed closely by Daniel, who had a bloody bandage wrapped around his head but was otherwise standing tall.
“We have the premises secured, Mr. Moretti,” the lead detective said, stepping over the unconscious guards. He looked at Salvatore, then at Vanessa. “We received the anonymous tip about the kidnapping and the stolen boarding passes.”
The detective looked at me, then at the little boy holding onto my skirt.
“Is this the child?” the detective asked softly.
Luca stepped forward, placing his hand protectively on Leo’s head.
“This is my son, Leonardo Moretti,” Luca said proudly. “He was abducted at birth by Salvatore and Vanessa Bellini. They have been holding him hostage for six years.”
The detective nodded grimly. “Take them out.”
Officers hauled Salvatore to his feet, slapping heavy steel handcuffs on his wrists. He groaned, blood trickling from his jaw where Luca had struck him.
Two officers grabbed Vanessa.
She didn’t fight them. She was completely broken. As they dragged her past me, she looked up, her mascara smeared, her expensive gown ruined.
“You think you won, Emma?” Vanessa sneered, a desperate, bitter laugh escaping her lips. “You think because he didn’t shoot you, you’re safe?”
She looked at Luca.
“She’s a Rossi, Luca! She has dirty blood! You can never trust her!”
“Get her out of my house,” Luca snarled.
The officers dragged Vanessa into the hallway, her hysterical laughter echoing off the marble walls until the front doors slammed shut.
The paramedics rushed in next. They checked Leo, who was dirty and malnourished but miraculously unharmed. They checked my mother’s blood pressure, and they bandaged the bite mark on the guard Bruno had pinned.
For the first time in hours, I could finally breathe.
I walked over to the large window overlooking the front driveway, watching the police cruisers haul the Bellini family away.
“It’s over,” I whispered to myself.
“Not yet.”
I turned around.
Luca was standing right behind me.
The adrenaline had finally faded from his face, leaving behind a profound, heartbreaking exhaustion.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the tarnished silver pocket watch Leo had given him.
He opened the lid, looking at the faded photograph of his late fiancée, Elena.
“She didn’t die in the crash,” Luca said quietly, staring at the picture. “Vanessa said she lived long enough to deliver Leo. But Vanessa is a liar.”
I frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”
Luca looked up at me.
“I had Elena’s body exhumed three years ago, Emma. Because I couldn’t let go.”
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He closed the silver watch with a sharp click.
“The casket was empty.”
