Chapter 7 - The Mother’s Mercy
The room erupted into chaos. Vincent crossed the distance in two massive strides, kicking the detonator across the hardwood floor and pinning the unconscious Paul beneath his knee. “Get the bomb squad! Clear the house!” Vincent roared to his remaining, loyal guards. The relatives scrambled out the front doors, spilling into the cold winter night. Mark grabbed Caroline by the arm, dragging her toward the kitchen to get their daughter. I stood over Paul’s body, the heavy brass oxygen tank slipping from my trembling hands. It hit the floor with a dull thud. I had never struck a person in my life. My chest heaved, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Helen reached out from her wheelchair and placed a warm, steady hand on my arm. “You did perfectly, Nora,” she said quietly. Vincent hauled Paul up by his collar, dragging him toward the back utility entrance where the security teams could isolate the explosive vest. Before he disappeared through the doors, Vincent stopped and looked back at me. “Thank you,” he said. It was the first time the Mafia boss had ever spoken to me with true respect. Within twenty minutes, the estate was swarming with private security and a discrete, off-the-books disposal team Vincent kept on retainer. They neutralized the vest and hauled Paul away. I didn’t ask where. I didn't want to know. The grand living room, previously decorated with engagement flowers and champagne flutes, was now a disaster zone. I found Caroline sitting on the floor of the kitchen, holding Mia tightly in her arms. Mark was kneeling beside them, his head buried in his hands. Vincent walked into the kitchen, his suit jacket discarded, his dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar. He looked exhausted. He looked down at the family that had tried to destroy his. “The money is gone,” Caroline whispered, refusing to look up at him. “Paul forced me to wire it to his offshore accounts. I can’t give it back to you. We have nothing.” Vincent stared at her for a long time. “Take your husband and your daughter,” Vincent said coldly. “There is a car waiting out back. It will take you to the airfield. The plane is fueled. Get out of my city, Caroline. If I ever see your face again, I will not be merciful.” Caroline sobbed, scrambling to her feet. Mark gathered Mia into his arms, offering Vincent a brief, terrified nod of gratitude before rushing out the back door. When they were gone, the house fell completely silent. Vincent walked back into the living room. Helen was still sitting in her wheelchair, holding her late husband’s watch in her lap. Vincent sank onto the sofa across from her, dropping his head into his hands. “I invited them all in,” Vincent whispered, the weight of the betrayal finally crushing his shoulders. “Caroline. Paul. I let them sit at our table. I almost let them take you.” Helen wheeled herself forward. She reached out, gently pushing her son’s dark hair back from his forehead, just as she had done when he was a boy. “You trusted people, Vincent,” Helen said softly. “That is not a weakness. It is what makes you a better man than your father.” Vincent looked up at her, tears pooling in his fierce eyes. “What do we do now?” he asked. Helen looked at me, standing quietly by the kitchen door. “Now,” Helen said, “we take care of the people who actually take care of us.” Vincent followed her gaze. He stood up and walked over to me. “Nora,” he said. “Caroline told me your placement contract was up for renewal.” “Yes, sir. Next Friday.” “You don’t work for the agency anymore,” Vincent said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick, platinum money clip. He peeled off a stack of hundred-dollar bills—more money than I made in six months—and pressed it into my hand. “That’s a bonus for tonight,” he said. “Tomorrow, my lawyers will draft a new contract. Direct employment. Triple your current salary, full medical benefits, and the foundation will pay your daughter’s nursing school tuition in full.” I stared at the money in my hand, the sheer relief washing over me so intensely my knees nearly buckled. “Thank you,” I choked out, tears blurring my vision. Helen smiled, her pearl earrings catching the dim light. “Now, Nora,” she said, her voice carrying the warm, commanding tone of the true head of the DeLuca family. “Would you be so kind as to unpack my bags? I am not going anywhere.”
