Chapter 8 - THE FLIGHT TO FREEDOM
The aftermath of the raid was a blur of flashing red and blue lights, sterile ambulance interiors, and endless statements to federal agents.
By dawn, the sprawling Caruso estate was entirely cordoned off by yellow police tape. The empire Dominic had inherited was dead, dismantled in a single night of bloodshed and truth.
I sat on the bumper of an ambulance, wrapped in a foil thermal blanket. A paramedic had just finished bandaging a small cut on my forehead.
A few yards away, Vanessa Bellini was being shoved into the back of a federal transport van. She didn't look like a mafia queen anymore. Her red dress was ruined, her hair was matted, and her eyes were hollow and defeated. She caught my eye for a fleeting second before the heavy steel doors slammed shut, sealing her fate forever.
I felt no pity for her. She had murdered Isabella, murdered my father, and nearly destroyed Sophie’s life for a vendetta built on a lie.
“Hannah?”
I looked up. Dominic was walking toward me. His arm was in a sling, and butterfly stitches tracked across his eyebrow, but he looked lighter. The crushing weight of the mafia crown that he had worn for the last four years was gone. He looked like a normal man.
He sat down beside me on the bumper.
For a long moment, we just watched the sunrise paint the Louisiana sky in shades of bruised purple and pale pink.
“I meant what I said in the kitchen,” Dominic said softly, his voice raspy from smoke and exhaustion. “The immunity deal I signed with the FBI protects me, but I have to forfeit all the assets. The houses, the cars, the bank accounts. It’s all gone. I have a small legitimate trust fund left for Sophie, but that’s it.”
He looked down at his hands. “I’m not a boss anymore, Hannah. I’m just a guy starting over. But I want to start over with you. If you’ll have me.”
My heart swelled. Over the last two years, I had fallen in love with this family. Not the wealth, not the power. I had fallen in love with the quiet moments. Baking with Sophie. Watching Dominic read bedtime stories to his daughter when he thought no one was watching.
I reached out and took his hand, lacing my fingers through his.
“I’m not going anywhere, Dominic,” I whispered.
A genuine, breathtaking smile broke across his bruised face. He leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead.
“Where’s Sophie?” I asked.
Dominic pointed toward an unmarked black SUV parked near the gates. “Sleeping in the backseat. Leo is watching her. We have a flight out of here in two hours. The FBI set up a new house for us in Colorado. Mountains. Snow. A place where a little girl can ride horses and forget about this place.”
Colorado. A fresh start.
“Let’s go,” I said, standing up and dropping the foil blanket.
As we walked toward the SUV, I reached into my apron pocket one last time. My fingers brushed against the small, folded photograph I had found underneath the birthday cake hours earlier.
I pulled it out and looked at it in the morning light.
It was a picture of Isabella holding a baby Sophie. On the back, Isabella had written: To the woman who will love her next. Thank you.
Tears pricked my eyes. Isabella had known. She had known she wouldn't survive the clinic. She had orchestrated the hidden notes, the cake recipe, the phone call from Clara, and the clues, all to ensure that the truth would come to light on Sophie’s sixth birthday. She had reached out from the grave to save her husband and her daughter.
And she had trusted me to carry it through.
I slipped the photograph into my pocket, keeping it safe. I would give it to Sophie when she was older. I would tell her everything about the brave, brilliant mother who had sacrificed everything for her.
We reached the SUV. Leo, sporting a massive bandage over his shoulder, gave me a tired but warm smile and opened the back door.
I slid into the backseat next to Sophie. The little girl was fast asleep, curled in a ball, clutching her silver charm bracelet.
Dominic got into the driver’s seat. He looked at me through the rearview mirror.
“Ready?” he asked.
May you like
“Ready,” I smiled.
The engine purred to life. We drove out of the wrought-iron gates of the Caruso estate, leaving the ghosts, the lies, and the violence behind us forever.
