Chapter 7 - THE STANDOFF IN THE DARK
Dominic hit Vanessa with the force of a freight train.
They crashed into the marble kitchen island, sending pots, pans, and the silver candelabra clattering to the floor. The derringer fired one last time, the bullet burying itself harmlessly into the ceiling, before spinning out of Vanessa’s hand and sliding across the blood-slicked tiles.
“FBI! NOBODY MOVE!”
The kitchen was swarming. Red laser dots danced across the tactical guards Vanessa had brought, who immediately dropped their rifles and raised their hands in surrender. They were mercenaries, paid to fight mobsters, not the federal government.
But Vanessa wasn't surrendering.
Screaming like a banshee, she clawed at Dominic’s face, her manicured nails leaving bloody tracks down his cheek. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you for what you did to my father!”
Dominic didn't strike her back. He simply pinned her wrists to the floor with his knees, his face inches from hers. His expression wasn't angry anymore. It was filled with a cold, hollow pity.
“Your father was a monster, Vanessa,” Dominic said quietly over the chaos. “He sold children, Vanessa. He trafficked them through the ports. That’s why the Commission ordered me to take him out twelve years ago. He wasn't a martyr. He was a plague.”
Vanessa froze, her eyes widening in disbelief. “You’re lying. You wanted his territory!”
“I never touched Chicago,” Dominic replied softly. “Look at the ledgers. We never took a dime of his money. We just stopped the shipments.”
The fight drained out of Vanessa instantly. The foundation of her twelve-year crusade of vengeance crumbled beneath her. She stopped struggling, her head falling back against the tile, a hollow sob escaping her lips.
Rough hands grabbed Vanessa, hauling her to her feet and slapping heavy steel handcuffs around her wrists.
I sat slumped against the cabinets, my ears ringing from the flashbangs, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm in my chest.
Dominic slowly stood up. He swayed slightly, his injuries finally catching up to him. He looked around the chaotic kitchen, past the federal agents, past the arrested guards.
His eyes found me.
He walked over, dropping to his knees in front of me. He didn't care that his expensive suit was soaking up the blood on the floor. He didn't care about the billions of dollars or the crumbling of his empire.
He reached out and gently cupped my face in his bruised hands.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice cracking with raw emotion.
“I’m okay,” I whispered, tears finally spilling over my eyelashes. “Where is Sophie?”
“Right here.”
I looked past his shoulder. An FBI agent was leading Sophie back into the kitchen. The little girl took one look at me, broke away from the agent, and sprinted across the room.
She threw herself into my arms, burying her face in my neck.
“Hannah! You didn't die! You didn't die like Mommy!” Sophie sobbed, her little fingers gripping my apron so tightly her knuckles were white.
I wrapped my arms around her, burying my face in her soft hair. “I’m here, sweetie. I’m right here. Nobody is going anywhere.”
Dominic wrapped his arms around both of us, pulling us into a tight, desperate embrace. For a moment, in the middle of a destroyed kitchen surrounded by federal agents, we were the only three people in the world.
“Mr. Caruso?”
A tall man in a tactical vest with 'FBI' emblazoned in yellow letters stepped forward. It was Agent Miller, Dominic’s handler.
Dominic slowly stood up, keeping one hand resting protectively on Sophie’s head.
“Is it done, Miller?” Dominic asked tiredly.
“It’s done, Dominic,” Agent Miller nodded. “We have Paulie’s loyalists rounded up in the driveway. We have Vanessa on tape confessing to murder, extortion, and the attempted murder of a federal informant. The entire New Orleans syndicate is dismantled.”
Miller looked at me, then down at the black ledger I was still clutching in my hand.
“And I believe you have the final piece of the puzzle, Miss Collins,” Miller said gently.
I looked at Dominic. He gave me a slow, reassuring nod.
I stood up and handed the master ledger to the FBI agent. “The passcode is 06-22-381. The money is in Switzerland. Every dime of it is dirty.”
Miller took the book like it was a holy relic. “You did a brave thing tonight, Hannah. Your father would be proud. We’ve known for a long time that Arthur Collins was forced into this life under threat. His name will be cleared. That’s a promise.”
A wave of immense relief washed over me. My father’s name would be cleared. He wouldn't be remembered as a mobster. He would be remembered as a victim who fought back the only way he knew how.
“What happens now?” I asked, looking between Miller and Dominic.
“Now,” Dominic said, his voice thick with emotion as he looked down at his daughter. “We go home.”
I frowned, confused. “But this is your home.”
Dominic shook his head. He looked around the opulent, blood-stained kitchen. “No. This is a fortress. This is a prison. We’re leaving tonight. And we are never coming back.”
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He turned to me, his dark eyes intensely vulnerable.
“If you’ll come with us, Hannah. We don't need a maid anymore. But Sophie needs her mother. And I… I need you.”
