Chapter 7 - THE COOK'S REVENGE
Mrs. Ramirez didn't look like the woman who baked Ben’s favorite chocolate chip cookies every Sunday.
She racked the shotgun with a terrifying, smooth clack.
“But you don't take from my kitchen,” Mrs. Ramirez said calmly.
Before Dominic could swing his rifle toward her, the elderly woman pulled the trigger.
The blast caught Dominic in the shoulder, throwing him violently backward into the wine racks. Hundreds of expensive bottles shattered, raining red wine over his tailored suit like blood.
He screamed, dropping his weapon.
I didn't wait. I sprinted forward, kicked the rifle out of his reach, and grabbed the lockbox from the barrel.
“Come on!” I yelled, grabbing Rachel’s arm.
We ran past Dominic, who was groaning on the floor, and rushed up the stairs behind Mrs. Ramirez.
“They are clearing the main floor,” Mrs. Ramirez said, breathing heavily. “Mr. Luca’s men flanked them from the guest house. The police are already on their way.”
We burst into the main foyer.
The fighting had stopped. Dominic’s men were either on the ground or handcuffed by Luca’s remaining loyal guards. The front doors were blown wide open, the flashing red and blue lights of police cruisers illuminating the rain-soaked driveway.
Luca was standing in the center of the room. He had a deep cut across his cheek, but he was alive.
When he saw Rachel and Ben run out of the kitchen, his dark eyes flooded with profound relief. He dropped his weapon and fell to his knees, catching Ben in a massive hug.
“I’ve got you,” Luca whispered, burying his face in his nephew’s shoulder. “You’re safe.”
Rachel handed Luca the rusted lockbox.
“Michael left the legitimate empire to Ben,” Rachel said softly. “He knew Dominic would try to kill you both for it. He protected the family the only way he could.”
Answer one: Michael’s ultimate plan wasn't just to hide evidence; it was to legally sever the mafia from the family wealth, securing a clean future for his son.
Luca looked at the deed. Then he looked at the blackmail photograph Vanessa had used against him.
He took a silver lighter from his pocket, sparked it, and held the flame to the photograph. We watched in silence as the only evidence of Luca’s past crime turned to ash on the marble floor.
“It’s over,” Luca said quietly.
“Not quite.”
We turned toward the hallway.
Vanessa was standing near the coat closet. She had managed to slip away from the guards during the firefight. She was holding a small, pearl-handled revolver, aimed directly at Rachel.
“I lost everything because of you,” Vanessa hissed, her eyes wild and desperate. “I was going to be the Queen of this city! I was going to have the money!”
Open two: Will Vanessa actually pull the trigger, knowing she has nowhere to run?
“Put it down, Vanessa,” Luca ordered, stepping slowly in front of Rachel. “The police are outside. You have no money, no ticket, and no allies.”
“I don't care!” she screamed, her finger tightening on the trigger. “If I can't have this family, nobody can!”
She fired.
But I had spent four years behind a crowded bar. I knew how to read a drunk, desperate person’s body language.
May you like
A split second before she pulled the trigger, I threw a heavy, silver champagne bucket straight at her head.
TITLE: THE HEIR TO THE EMPIRE
