Chapter 8 - THE FLIGHT TO GENEVA
The private airstrip in upstate New York was freezing, the early morning fog clinging to the tarmac like a damp shroud.
Sophia stood wrapped in a heavy wool coat, watching the ground crew fuel the sleek Gulfstream jet. The roar of the engines was a comforting hum, drowning out the chaotic thoughts that had plagued her mind for the last twelve hours.
Inside the cabin, Lily was asleep on one of the plush leather seats, wrapped in a cashmere blanket, completely exhausted by the terror of the night.
Claire walked up the boarding stairs, holding two steaming cups of coffee in cardboard cups. She handed one to Sophia. Claire had changed out of her ruined wedding dress and was now wearing a simple black turtleneck and jeans. Without the heavy bridal makeup, she looked strikingly young—and terrifyingly like Sophia’s late mother.
“Drink,” Claire said gently. “You’re shivering.”
Sophia took the cup, letting the heat seep into her freezing fingers. “Are you sure we weren't followed?”
“Positive,” Claire said, taking a sip of her own coffee. “I ran three counter-surveillance loops before we hit the highway. And I wiped the GPS history on Adrian’s SUV before we ditched it at the train station. Marcus’s men are looking for us in the city. By the time they realize we’re gone, we’ll be over the Atlantic.”
Sophia looked out at the fog. “I still can't wrap my head around it. You're my aunt.”
Claire offered a small, sad smile. “I know. It feels surreal to me too. I spent my whole life being told Elena abandoned me because she was selfish. Because she wanted the glamour of a mafia boss. I hated her for so long.”
“She tried to come back for you,” Sophia reminded her, reaching into her coat pocket and pulling out the worn wooden rosary. She held it out to Claire.
Claire took it, her thumb running over the carved letters on the back of the cross. 'For Izzy. I will come back for you.'
“I know,” Claire whispered, her eyes shining. “Marcus manipulated me. He turned me into a weapon against my own blood. But he failed. He didn't break the family. He accidentally reunited it.”
Sophia looked toward the cabin window, watching Lily’s chest rise and fall in peaceful sleep. “What happens now, Claire? Even with fifty million dollars in Geneva, Marcus won't stop looking for us. We humiliated him.”
Claire’s expression darkened, the trained operative returning to the surface. “Marcus is eighty-two years old, Sophia. His empire is crumbling. Julian failed to get the ledger, and now Julian is in federal custody along with Adrian. Adrian has already started talking to the FBI.”
“How do you know that?” Sophia asked, surprised.
“I made a call to a contact inside the Bureau before we got to the airfield,” Claire admitted. “Adrian didn't just surrender. He handed over a flash drive he had hidden in his vest. It contained the encrypted coordinates of Marcus’s offshore shell companies. The FBI raided Marcus’s primary estate an hour ago.”
Sophia’s breath caught. “Did they get him?”
Claire shook her head. “No. The old man slipped away. He always does. But his assets are frozen. His lieutenants are being rounded up. Without money and without loyal men, Marcus is just a bitter old man hiding in the shadows. He doesn't have the resources to hunt us across the globe anymore.”
The pilot stepped out of the cockpit and gave them a thumbs-up. “We’re cleared for takeoff, ladies. Please take your seats.”
Sophia nodded and turned to head inside, but stopped when she saw a black town car pull up to the edge of the tarmac. The headlights cut through the fog, blinding them for a moment.
Claire instantly reached beneath her coat, her hand resting on the grip of a concealed pistol. She stepped in front of Sophia.
The driver’s side door opened. A man in a sharp suit stepped out, holding an umbrella, though it had stopped raining. He opened the back door.
An old woman stepped out. She wore a simple gray coat, her silver hair pulled back into an elegant bun. She leaned heavily on a cane, but her posture was rigid, commanding absolute respect.
Sophia frowned. “Who is that?”
Claire’s hand fell away from her gun. Her jaw dropped in absolute shock.
“That’s... that’s impossible,” Claire whispered.
The old woman walked slowly toward the plane, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. She looked up at Claire, then at Sophia. Her eyes, sharp and intelligent, were the exact same shade of brown as Lily’s.
“Isabella,” the old woman said, her voice raspy but firm.
Claire trembled. “Mrs. Cross?”
Sophia stared at the woman. Mrs. Cross? Adrian’s mother?
“I was told you were dead,” Claire said, her voice cracking. “Marcus said you died of a heart attack thirty years ago.”
“My husband tells a great many lies,” the old woman said, gripping her cane. “I left Marcus when Adrian was just a boy, because I saw the monster my husband was becoming. Marcus told the world I died to save his pride.”
“Why are you here?” Sophia asked, stepping forward.
The old woman looked at Sophia. Her sharp eyes softened, welling with sudden, heavy tears. “Adrian managed one phone call from holding. He called my private number. He told me everything. He told me about Elena. About you. About my great-granddaughter.”
The old woman reached into her coat and pulled out a thick envelope. She held it out to Sophia.
“Marcus’s reach is long, but mine is hidden,” she said quietly. “Inside are three passports. New identities. Birth certificates. And the deeds to an estate in the Swiss Alps that Marcus doesn't know exists. It has been in my family for three hundred years. You will be completely untouchable there.”
Sophia took the envelope, stunned by the sheer weight of it. “Why are you helping us? I was going to ruin your son.”
“My son ruined himself,” the old woman said sadly. “But last night, he finally did the right thing. He broke the cycle. I am here to make sure you finish the job. Take the girl. Take Isabella. Go live the life that the Cross men stole from you.”
The old woman turned around and began walking back to the town car. She stopped and looked back over her shoulder.
“And Sophia?”
“Yes?”
“Tell Lily that her grandmother says hello.”
The old woman got into the car, and it sped away into the fog.
May you like
Sophia looked at the envelope in her hands. She looked at Claire, who was crying silently.
“Let’s go home,” Sophia said.
