Chapter 8 - The Blood on the Marble
Vanessa stood in the doorway of the closet, holding a small, matte-black snub-nosed revolver in her leather-gloved hand.
Her eyes were sunken, bloodshot, surrounded by dark purple circles of madness and sleep deprivation. The silver-spoon heiress who had commanded Manhattan social life two months ago looked like a feral, dangerous shadow of her former self.
Behind her stood two broad-shouldered mercenaries holding suppressed submachine guns, their faces covered by black tactical balaclavas.
"Look at you," Vanessa sneered, looking down at Abigail huddled among the wool coats, holding her belly. "Living in Matteo Romano’s penthouse. Wearing cashmere. Playing the tragic heroine while my father sits in a federal holding cell and my name is dragged through the mud."
"Your father put himself in that cell, Vanessa," Abigail said, her voice remarkably clear, her hazel eyes locking onto the barrel of the revolver without flinching. "And you destroyed your own life the day you decided your greed was worth more than human lives."
"Shut up!" Vanessa shrieked, taking a step forward and levitating the revolver until the cold steel barrel pressed directly against Abigail’s forehead. "You were supposed to be nobody! You were supposed to starve in Washington Heights! You were a dirty, insignificant servant who was supposed to disappear!"
Abigail closed her eyes, resting both hands over her stomach, placing her entire soul into protecting her unborn child.
"If you shoot me," Abigail whispered, opening her eyes and looking directly into Vanessa’s wild gaze, "Matteo Romano will hunt you to the ends of the earth. There is no ocean deep enough, no country distant enough, to hide you from him."
Vanessa’s finger tightened on the trigger, her jaw working furiously. "Then at least I'll die knowing I took everything from him first—"
BOOM!
The heavy oak double doors at the front of the penthouse didn't just open—they exploded inward in a shower of splintered wood, steel hinges, and shattered masonry.
A roar like thunder echoed down the corridor as Matteo Romano stormed into the penthouse.
He didn't look like a businessman in a suit. He looked like an ancient, vengeful force of nature. In his broad hands he held a heavy tactical shotgun, his face contorted into an expression of pure, apocalyptic rage.
The two mercenaries in the hallway didn't even have time to raise their weapons.
Matteo fired twice in rapid succession, the deafening blasts blowing the two men backward off their feet into the living room walls. Geno followed right behind him, a team of four armed Romano security operators sweeping through the rooms like a tidal wave, taking down the remaining intruders within three seconds.
Vanessa panicked.
She spun around, pulling the trigger of her snub-nosed revolver toward the closet doorway in wild, blind terror.
The bullet cracked through the air, shattering a mirror on the closet wall.
Before she could pull the trigger a second time, Matteo was upon her.
He dropped his shotgun, his massive, calloused hand reaching out like a steel trap, grabbing Vanessa by the throat and lifting her two feet off the ground, slamming her heavy frame against the solid brick wall of the bedroom.
The small revolver clattered uselessly onto the rug.
Vanessa kicked and gasped for air, her leather-gloved hands tearing frantically at Matteo's iron grip, her face turning purple as his dark eyes stared into hers from inches away.
"You came into my house," Matteo whispered, his voice a low, terrifying vibration that made the glass in the windows rattle. "You raised a gun against my family."
"Matteo... please..." Vanessa choked out, her eyes rolling back in her head.
"Matteo! No!"
Abigail's voice cut through the carnage.
Matteo turned his head slightly, his dark eyes still burning with lethal rage.
Abigail was kneeling on the floor of the closet, clutching her lower abdomen, her face pale, sweat bead forming along her hairline, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Matteo... the baby," Abigail gasped, her voice breaking with pain. "The baby is coming... right now!"
Matteo’s eyes widened. The terrifying rage that had consumed him evaporated instantly, replaced by a wave of pure, frantic panic.
He dropped Vanessa onto the rug like a sack of trash, where Geno instantly clamped heavy steel handcuffs around her wrists, dragging her out into the hallway.
Matteo dropped to his knees beside Abigail, reaching out with both arms, pulling her carefully against his broad chest.
"I’m here," Matteo said frantically, his broad hands trembling as he wiped the cold sweat from her forehead. "I'm right here, Abigail. Geno! Call the ambulance! Clear the streets!"
"The storm... the roads are blocked..." Abigail gasped, a sharp, excruciating contraction wrenching through her body, making her squeeze Matteo's broad shoulders with terrifying force. "We... we aren't going to make it to the hospital!"
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Matteo looked down at her pale, pain-wracked face, then up at Geno, who nodded solemnly.
"Mrs. Gable!" Matteo roared at the top of his lungs, his voice echoing across the penthouse. "Get the medical kit from the private office! Get clean towels, hot water, and call Dr. Mercer on the secure line! Now!"
