Chapter 5 - THE GOLD POCKET WATCH FROM THE PAST
“Mrs. Carter, please!” I screamed, stepping between the gun and Caroline.
The older woman didn’t blink. Fourteen months I had worked alongside her. She had taught me how to fold the napkins, how to polish the silver without scratching it. She was the one who helped Benjamin count his birthday candles every single year.
It was all a lie.
Benjamin was sobbing, his little hands clutching his wooden telescope.
“Mrs. Carter, you’re hurting my neck,” he cried.
“Be quiet, child,” she snapped, her voice cold. She aimed the gun over my shoulder at Caroline. “Step aside, Rachel. You’re just a maid. You don’t need to die tonight.”
“Why are you doing this?” Caroline begged, stepping out from behind me. She held up her uninjured hand in surrender. “Take me. Leave Ben. He loves you.”
“Love doesn't pay debts,” Mrs. Carter said.
She reached into her uniform pocket with her gun hand and tossed something onto the kitchen floor.
It hit the tiles with a heavy, metallic clink.
A gold pocket watch.
The casing was dented, covered in dried, dark stains.
Caroline stared at the watch, her breath hitching.
“You recognize it, don’t you?” Mrs. Carter said grimly. “It belonged to my husband. He worked for the Moretti family twenty years ago. He took a bullet meant for Luca’s father.”
I stared at the gold watch spinning slowly on the tile.
“The Morettis promised my family would always be taken care of,” Mrs. Carter continued, her voice trembling with sudden, raw anger. “But when my son got sick last year, I went to Luca for help. Do you know what he told me, Caroline? He told me the mafia days were over. He said he was a legitimate businessman now. He gave me a check, but it wasn’t enough for the surgery.”
She pulled Benjamin tighter against her.
The little boy whimpered.
“Don Bellini paid for the surgery,” Mrs. Carter whispered. “All I had to do was leave the front gates unlocked tonight. And hand over the boy.”
“He’s nine years old!” I shouted, desperation making me reckless. “He didn't do anything to your husband!”
“He’s leverage,” she replied coldly. “Move, Rachel.”
She cocked the hammer of the gun.
Benjamin squeezed his eyes shut.
“I just wanted my blue balloon,” he whispered to himself, a heartbreaking mantra.
I looked at the counter. The chocolate cake. The unlit candle.
And the heavy cast-iron skillet sitting on the stove to my right.
I didn't think.
I grabbed the skillet by the handle and swung it as hard as I could at the fire extinguisher mounted on the wall next to Mrs. Carter's head.
The heavy iron smashed into the pressurized red tank.
Foam and pressurized gas exploded outward in a blinding, freezing white cloud.
Mrs. Carter screamed as the chemicals blasted into her eyes. The gun went off with a deafening CRACK, the bullet shattering the kitchen window above our heads.
In the chaos, her grip on Benjamin loosened.
I lunged forward, grabbing his little arm and yanking him into my chest.
“Run!” Caroline screamed.
I didn't look back. I carried Benjamin, practically flying through the swinging kitchen doors into the main hallway.
The mansion was completely silent now. The sounds of fighting in the dining room had stopped.
That was worse. Much worse.
I carried Benjamin toward the sweeping grand staircase, intending to hide him in the master suite's panic room.
But as we reached the bottom of the stairs, the lights suddenly flickered back on.
Standing at the top of the stairs was Vanessa.
Her red silk gown was torn at the hem.
And in her hand, she held a gold family heirloom. A heavy rosary.
“You’re not going anywhere, Rachel,” Vanessa said, descending the stairs slowly.
I backed up, clutching Ben.
But behind me, Marco and two of his men stepped out of the dining room.
We were trapped.
“Where is Luca?” Caroline demanded, stepping out of the kitchen behind us, her broken arm clutched to her chest.
Vanessa smiled. It was a broken, twisted thing.
“Luca is currently tied to a chair in his own study,” Vanessa said lightly. She stopped three steps above us, looking down at Benjamin with absolute disgust.
She tossed the rosary down.
It landed at Benjamin’s feet.
“Pick it up,” Vanessa commanded the little boy.
Benjamin shook his head, burying his face in my shoulder.
“I said, pick it up!” she shrieked, losing her composed facade. “That belonged to my son! The son your family stole from me!”
Caroline gasped. “Your baby… he didn't die?”
Vanessa’s eyes filled with venomous tears.
“No. He didn't die. Luca’s father took him from me the day he was born. He said a Bellini would never sit on the Moretti throne. He gave my child away. And then he forced me to marry Luca to keep the peace.”
Vanessa pointed a shaking finger at Benjamin.
“That boy gets everything. Birthdays. Telescopes. A father who loves him. While my son is out there somewhere, believing he has no one!”
She looked at Marco.
“Take the boy to my father. Kill the women.”
Marco raised his weapon.
I squeezed my eyes shut, shielding Benjamin with my body.
But the gunshot didn't come from Marco.
It came from the top of the stairs.
Vanessa screamed as the gun in Marco's hand shattered into pieces, torn apart by a high-caliber bullet.
We all looked up.
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Standing behind Vanessa, bleeding from a cut above his eye but holding a massive hunting rifle, was Luca.
“You’re wrong, Vanessa,” Luca said, his voice echoing like thunder in the grand hall. “My father didn't give your son away.”
