Chapter 8 - The Antique Watch and the Final Shot
The video feed froze on Maya’s relieved, exhausted face, but the message had been delivered loud and clear.
Vanessa’s leverage was gone. Her empire was crumbling on both coasts simultaneously.
“It’s over, Vanessa,” Nico said, his voice echoing with absolute authority. “Carlo’s daughter is here. Elise’s sister is with the police. Your offshore accounts are locked. You have nothing.”
Vanessa stared at the frozen phone screen, her chest heaving. The cool, calculating mastermind had shattered, leaving behind a cornered, dangerous animal.
She raised the silver derringer, aiming it directly at Nico’s head.
“I still have a bullet,” she hissed.
“You shoot me, you don’t make it to the front door,” Nico said calmly. “Carlo is in the hall. My men are on the lawn.”
“I don’t care about making it out!” she screamed, her composure entirely broken. “If I don’t win, neither do you. You die with the Morelli name.”
She pulled the hammer back with a sharp click.
I didn't think. I didn't weigh the consequences or remember my place as a maid.
I threw the thick, wax-sealed envelope—the fake marriage certificate and the Lucchese ledger—directly at Vanessa’s face.
It was a desperate, stupid move, but it worked.
The heavy stack of papers hit her in the shoulder. She flinched, instinctively turning her face away from the projectile.
Her finger jerked on the trigger.
BANG.
The gunshot was deafening in the enclosed dining room. The smell of sulfur and burnt powder instantly filled the air.
Nico didn't fall.
I looked wildly around the room, checking myself, checking Nico.
Then I saw Antonio.
The old man had stepped in front of Nico at the last possible second.
Antonio stumbled backward, his hands clutching his chest. He collapsed onto the shattered crystal and broken plates on the floor.
“Grandpa!” Nico roared, dropping to his knees beside him.
Vanessa stood frozen for a fraction of a second, staring at the fallen patriarch.
Then she turned and bolted for the side door leading to the garden.
She didn't make it.
Carlo burst through the main doors, his own gun raised. He didn't hesitate. He fired a single shot.
The bullet struck Vanessa in the thigh. She screamed, crumpling to the floor, the silver derringer skittering away across the hardwood.
I ignored her. I dropped to the floor beside Nico and Antonio.
Nico’s hands were covered in blood. He was pressing them desperately against Antonio’s chest, weeping openly.
“Hold on, Grandpa. Please, God, hold on. We’re getting an ambulance,” Nico begged, his voice cracking with a child’s terror.
I knelt beside them, my hands hovering over the wound, preparing to apply pressure.
But as I looked closely, I stopped.
The blood wasn't coming from Antonio’s chest. It was coming from a superficial cut on his chin where the shattered glass had hit him when he fell.
Antonio wasn't clutching a bullet wound.
He was clutching his heavy wool coat.
Slowly, the old man opened his eyes. He coughed, wincing in pain, and pulled his hands away from his chest.
He reached into the inner breast pocket of his coat and pulled out the object I had handed him from the hidden safe just moments before.
The antique gold pocket watch.
The heavy, solid gold casing was dented inward, permanently shattered. Lodged securely in the center of the broken gears and smashed glass was Vanessa’s silver bullet.
The watch had stopped the bullet perfectly over his heart.
Antonio looked at the ruined heirloom, then looked up at his grandson. He reached out a trembling hand and touched Nico’s tear-stained face.
He didn't need to sign. His eyes said everything.
I am still here. I still need you.
Nico let out a raw, shuddering breath and pulled his grandfather into a fierce, desperate embrace.
In the background, Carlo kicked Vanessa’s gun out of reach and stood over her, his foot pressing hard onto her wounded leg.
“Call the police, Boss?” Carlo asked, his voice thick with emotion.
May you like
Nico held his grandfather tight, looking at the woman who had tried to destroy everything he loved.
“No,” Nico said coldly. “Call the Lucchese family. Tell them we found the woman who murdered their boss. I think they’d like to pick her up themselves.”
