Chapter 14 - THE LAST NIGHT
We knew where Vittorio would go.
Sofia’s grave.
It sounded sentimental.
It wasn’t.
Antonio had hidden an emergency vault beneath the family mausoleum years earlier.
Cash.
Passports.
Weapons.
Vittorio would need all three.
Monroe wanted us nowhere near it.
I agreed.
Then Grace said, “He’ll expect Dad.”
“No,” Monroe replied.
“He’ll expect all of us.”
Grace was right.
Vittorio had spent his life believing family belonged to him.
He would not leave without one last attempt to control the story.
We reached the cemetery after midnight with federal agents hidden outside the grounds.
Rain fell lightly.
The same kind of rain that had fallen the night Sofia died.
I hated the symmetry.
Grace stood beside Evelyn under an umbrella.
“You stay behind me,” Evelyn said.
Grace sighed.
“Everybody loves saying that.”
The mausoleum door was open.
I entered first.
“Vittorio.”
His voice came from the darkness.
“You always were predictable.”
A lamp came on.
Vittorio stood beside Sofia’s crypt.
Blood stained his shoulder.
A gun rested in his hand.
“You brought her.”
I looked back.
Grace entered.
“Hi again.”
Vittorio laughed weakly.
“You really are Sofia’s child.”
“Thank you.”
His face hardened.
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“I took it as one.”
I almost smiled.
Vittorio pointed his weapon at me.
“Do you know what your father’s final words were?”
“No.”
“He told me you were better than us.”
I stared at him.
“He was wrong.”
“No.”
Vittorio’s voice cracked.
“He believed you would leave.”
“Maybe I should have.”
“You had everything!”
“That was the problem.”
He shook his head.
“You think handing the empire to a blind child fixes anything?”
Grace stepped forward.
“I’m not keeping it.”
Vittorio froze.
“What?”
Grace continued.
“When I’m old enough, I’m breaking the companies apart.”
“You don’t understand what they’re worth.”
“I understand exactly what they cost.”
Silence.
“My mother.”
Grace pointed toward me.
“My dad.”
Then toward herself.
“Me.”
Vittorio’s hand began shaking.
“You ungrateful little—”
“Don’t.”
My voice changed.
He raised the gun.
Grace didn’t move.
“I built this family,” he said.
“No,” I replied.
“You fed on it.”
Sirens sounded in the distance.
Vittorio looked around.
“You brought police.”
“Federal agents.”
He laughed.
“You really did betray everything.”
“No.”
I stepped forward.
“I stopped confusing fear with loyalty.”
He aimed at me.
I kept walking.
“Dad,” Grace whispered.
Vittorio’s finger tightened.
Then Grace threw something.
Her wooden baton.
It struck his wrist.
The shot went wide.
I tackled him.
We hit the marble floor.
He clawed for the gun.
I pinned him.
My fist rose.
One strike could have ended him.
I saw Sofia.
My father.
Years stolen from my mother.
All of it.
Vittorio smiled.
“Do it.”
Grace spoke behind me.
“Dad.”
I froze.
Not a command.
Not fear.
Just my name in her voice.
I lowered my fist.
Federal agents rushed inside.
They dragged Vittorio away.
He screamed curses until the mausoleum door closed behind him.
I remained on the floor.
Grace walked toward me.
Her cane touched my shoe.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Good.”
I looked up.
“Good?”
“You finally stopped pretending.”
She held out her hand.
I took it.
Then I noticed something beneath Sofia’s crypt.
A small envelope.
Fresh dust had been disturbed around it.
My name was written on the front.
Not Sofia’s handwriting.
Antonio’s.
My father’s.
I opened it.
May you like
Inside were six words.
DOMINIC, END WHAT I WAS TOO WEAK TO END.
