THE MESSAGE FROM THE GRAVE

The heavy silver bucket slammed into Vanessa’s wrist.

The gunshot went wide, shattering a crystal chandelier above us. Glass rained down on the marble, but nobody was hit.

Before Vanessa could recover, Luca crossed the distance in two massive strides. He grabbed her wrist, twisting it sharply until the pearl-handled revolver dropped to the floor.

He pinned her against the wall.

“You never belonged in this family,” Luca said, his voice completely devoid of mercy.

The police stormed through the front doors a second later.

They took Vanessa in handcuffs. She didn't scream anymore. She just stared at the floor, completely broken.

They dragged Dominic out of the wine cellar on a stretcher, arresting him for the murder of Michael Moretti and the attempted murder of the family.

The nightmare was finally over.

I stood near the staircase, picking up my ruined housekeeper apron from the floor where Vanessa had dropped it hours ago. I folded it quietly, planning to slip out the back door. My shift was over.

“Emma.”

I turned around.

Rachel was walking toward me. She wasn't the fragile, grieving widow Vanessa had tried to paint her as. She stood tall, her shoulders back, holding the blue Navy flight jacket that had caused all this chaos.

“You didn't have to speak up tonight,” Rachel said softly. “You could have lied to keep your job. You could have run when the shooting started. But you saved my son. Twice.”

“I just told the truth, Mrs. Moretti,” I said, looking down at my shoes.

Rachel reached out and gently took the folded apron from my hands. She tossed it onto a nearby chair.

“You aren't a housekeeper anymore, Emma,” Rachel said.

I swallowed hard. “I know. I’ll pack my things.”

“No,” Luca said, stepping up beside his sister-in-law. “You misunderstand.”

Luca looked at me, a deep, undeniable respect in his eyes.

“My brother left a two-billion-dollar legitimate empire to my nephew,” Luca said. “Rachel is taking over the board of directors. I am stepping down from the syndicate to run the legal shipping routes. We are going clean. But we need people we can trust.”

He pulled a checkbook from his jacket pocket and quickly wrote a number that made my head spin.

“This pays off your sister’s medical debt, your rent, and buys you a house,” Luca handed it to me. “And starting Monday, you are the new Chief of Staff for the Moretti Estate. If you want the job.”

I stared at the check. Tears blurred my vision. I didn't have to struggle anymore. I didn't have to be afraid of the electric bill.

“I want the job,” I whispered.