Chapter 4 - THE MATRIARCH'S MOTIVE
Rosa Moretti stood up. She didn't look frail anymore. Her spine was steel, her eyes hard as flint.
“Mom?” Vincent whispered, the word tearing from his throat like a jagged piece of glass.
“Put the gun down, Carlo,” Rosa ordered. “You’re making a mess of things. Just like your father used to.”
Carlo hesitated, then slowly lowered his weapon, looking terrified of his own mother.
“You?” Vincent stepped toward her, ignoring the gun she held. “You killed my wife? The mother of your grandchild?”
“She wasn't one of us, Vincent!” Rosa barked, the elegant grandmother facade completely melting away. “Isabella was weak. She wanted you to leave the family business. She wanted to take Lily and move to the country. She was going to tear this empire apart!”
Vanessa crossed her arms, looking smug. “I told you, Vincent. Rosa came to me. She knew I had the medical connections. I supplied the compound, Carlo distracted the clinic staff, and Rosa...”
“I put it in her tea,” Rosa finished, her voice devoid of any warmth. “Every afternoon. I sat by her bed, held her hand, and watched her drink it.”
A wave of intense nausea washed over me. I pulled Lily tighter against my side, covering the little girl’s ears so she wouldn't hear the horrific details of her mother’s murder.
“You’re a monster,” Vincent choked out, tears finally spilling from his eyes.
“I am a survivor,” Rosa snapped. “And I found you a proper wife. Vanessa understands our world. She understands power.”
“Vanessa is a parasite,” I interrupted, unable to stay silent. “And you didn't just poison Isabella. You tried to poison Lily, too, didn't you?”
The room went dead silent.
Vincent whipped his head toward me. “What?”
“The first week Aunt Margaret worked there, Lily was admitted to the clinic with severe stomach cramps,” I said, piecing together the final puzzle of my aunt’s dying words. “Isabella wasn't the target initially. Lily was.”
Rosa’s grip on the gun tightened.
“Isabella figured it out,” I continued, my voice gaining strength. “She realized the poisoned milk was meant for Lily. So Isabella started drinking Lily’s milk herself. She sacrificed her own body, absorbed the poison, to save her daughter.”
Vincent let out a sound of pure agony. He fell to his knees on the marble floor, burying his face in his hands.
“Shut up, maid!” Rosa screamed, aiming the gun at me. “You’ve outlived your usefulness!”
“Grandma, stop!” Lily cried, pulling away from me and running toward Vincent.
As Lily ran, the broken piece of the jewelry box on the floor caught her foot. She tripped, crashing into a heavy silver serving cart.
The cart tipped over.
A massive silver soup tureen crashed to the floor, spilling boiling hot broth directly onto Vanessa’s legs.
Vanessa shrieked in agony, dropping to the floor.
In the distraction, Vincent moved with the speed of a seasoned mob boss. He lunged forward, sweeping Carlo’s legs out from under him, knocking him unconscious against the edge of the dining table.
But Rosa still had her gun. She leveled it at Vincent’s chest.
“I built this family, Vincent,” Rosa said, her finger tightening on the trigger. “I will not let you destroy it for a ghost.”
“You won't have to,” a voice echoed from the hallway.
Everyone froze.
Standing in the doorway, wearing a heavy blue wool coat, was a woman who was supposed to be dead.
May you like
Margaret Collins. My aunt.
And she wasn't alone. She was flanked by six armed FBI agents.
