Chapter 8 - THE ENGAGEMENT RING
The rain lashed against Lorenzo’s face like tiny daggers as he sprinted down the slick wooden planks of the pier. Behind him, the warehouse was a towering inferno, painting the dark sky with violent orange flames. Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder by the second, but Lorenzo’s world was entirely focused on the woman at the end of the dock.
Celeste struggled with the thick, wet mooring line, cursing loudly as she tried to slip it off the heavy iron cleat.
“Celeste!” Lorenzo roared.
She snapped her head up. Panic flared in her perfectly manicured features. She dropped the rope, abandoning the boat entirely, and reached into her soaked designer coat.
She pulled a small, silver revolver and fired blindly.
The bullet splintered the wooden post beside Lorenzo’s head. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t slow down. He had exhausted all his ammunition in the warehouse. He was running purely on adrenaline and a father’s wrath.
Celeste fired again, but her hands were shaking. The shot went wide, disappearing into the dark harbor.
Before she could pull the trigger a third time, Lorenzo hit her.
He tackled her with the force of a freight train, driving her into the hard wooden planks of the pier. The revolver flew from her grasp, clattering uselessly into the churning black water below.
Celeste screamed, clawing at Lorenzo’s face like a cornered animal. “Get off me! You ruined everything!”
Lorenzo caught both of her wrists in one massive hand, pinning them above her head. He knelt over her, his chest heaving, blood dripping from a cut on his forehead onto her pale, terrified face.
“You buried my daughter alive in the dark,” Lorenzo growled, his voice vibrating with a hatred so profound it shook his core. “You made me mourn an empty casket. You killed my best friend tonight.”
“I did it because you were weak!” Celeste spat, defiant even in defeat. She laughed—a harsh, manic sound. “But you’re too late anyway, Lorenzo! I don’t need the physical ledger. I authorized the digital transfer of all your offshore accounts an hour ago! The money is gone. You are bankrupt. You have nothing!”
Lorenzo stared down at her. The fury in his eyes slowly faded, replaced by something much colder. Pity.
He reached down with his free hand and grabbed her left ring finger.
He gripped the massive, four-carat diamond engagement ring he had given her two years ago—the ring that belonged to his mother. With one sharp, unceremonious yank, he ripped it off her finger.
Celeste gasped as the metal scraped her skin.
Lorenzo stood up, backing away from her. He looked at the priceless diamond glinting in the rain, then casually tossed it over his shoulder into the dark, freezing harbor.
“You never belonged to this family,” Lorenzo said quietly.
Celeste sat up, clutching her bare finger, looking at him like he was insane. “You just threw away millions! I took everything from you!”
Lorenzo reached into his wet coat and pulled out his smartphone. The screen was cracked, but it still worked. He tapped the screen twice and tossed the phone onto her lap.
Celeste looked down.
It was a banking app screen. The transfer logs she had authorized were displayed in bright green letters. But the destination accounts weren’t hers.
They were numbered ghost accounts.
“I changed the routing numbers six months ago,” Lorenzo said, his voice completely hollow. “I always knew you were a snake, Celeste. I was just waiting to see who you were going to bite. You transferred my fortune into accounts only I control. You are broke. You are exposed. And the police are sixty seconds away.”
Celeste stared at the screen, her mouth opening and closing in silent horror as her entire world collapsed.
“Lorenzo!”
A sharp, terrified cry pierced the sound of the rain.
Lorenzo spun around.
Clara was walking toward him down the pier. She was limping heavily, holding her side. Mia was running ahead of her, unhurt, clutching her teddy bear.
But Clara was bleeding. A dark stain was spreading rapidly across the white shirt beneath her unbuttoned coat. During the chaos of the explosion, she had taken a piece of shrapnel to the ribs.
Lorenzo rushed forward, catching Clara just as her knees buckled. He lowered her gently to the wet wooden planks.
“I’m okay,” Clara gasped, her face incredibly pale. “She’s safe. Mia is safe.”
“You’re going to be fine,” Lorenzo said, pressing his hand hard against her wound to stop the bleeding. “The paramedics are here. Just hold on.”
Clara smiled weakly. With trembling fingers, she reached into the pocket of her soaked apron. She pulled out a folded, bloodstained piece of paper and pressed it into Lorenzo’s hand.
May you like
“My mother... wanted you to have this,” Clara whispered, before her eyes rolled back and she lost consciousness in the pouring rain.
Behind them, the dock flooded with red and blue lights as dozens of armed police officers stormed the pier, surrounding the broken, bankrupt woman sitting in the rain.
