Chapter 8 - THE GALA TRAPCanceling the gala should have been easy.
Not by Lorenzo.
By federal agents.
I learned that detail later.
At the time, all I knew was Marco entered Leo’s room at seven-thirty and said, “We found him.”
I stood so fast the chair struck the wall.
“Ryan?”
“Yes.”
“Alive?”
Lorenzo glanced at me.
“He remains alive.”
The wording did not comfort me.
“Where?”
“Police custody.”
I stared at Lorenzo.
“You called police?”
“Federal investigators were already looking for Vittorio.”
That was new.
“For what?”
“Money laundering, extortion, conspiracy.”
“And you knew?”
“Yes.”
I felt anger rise.
“You could have told me.”
“It wasn’t relevant until yesterday.”
“It became relevant when someone threatened me.”
“You’re right.”
He was getting annoyingly good at admitting that.
Marco added, “Ryan asked for protection in exchange for information.”
“What information?”
“Vittorio’s location.”
Lorenzo stood.
“Where?”
“A motel outside Albany.”
My pulse jumped.
“Evelyn?”
“Possibly with him.”
Lorenzo reached for his jacket.
This time I didn’t stop him.
“Be careful,” I said.
He paused.
The words had surprised both of us.
“I will.”
He looked at Leo.
Then me.
“If anything happens, Marco stays with you.”
“Marco is going with you.”
“No.”
Marco frowned.
“Sir—”
“You stay.”
“That’s not—”
“Not negotiable.”
Lorenzo left with four other men.
For two hours, we heard nothing.
Leo nursed.
Slept.
Woke.
For the first time, he cried with real strength.
The sound made the pediatric nurse smile.
“That’s a much healthier protest.”
I laughed through tears.
Then Marco’s encrypted phone rang.
His expression changed as he listened.
“What happened?” I asked.
He ended the call.
“Vittorio wasn’t there.”
My stomach sank.
“Evelyn?”
“Yes.”
“Alive?”
Marco nodded.
“Barely.”
She had been found unconscious in the bathtub of a motel room.
Someone had injected her with enough sedative to nearly stop her breathing.
An ambulance rushed her to a nearby hospital.
Vittorio was gone.
Again.
But the motel room contained documents.
Photographs.
Medication bottles.
And a laptop.
Lorenzo returned three hours later.
His face told me everything.
“You didn’t get him.”
“No.”
“Evelyn?”
“Intubated.”
“Can she talk?”
“Not yet.”
He sat heavily in a chair.
I had never seen him look defeated.
“What did you find?”
Lorenzo looked toward Marco.
Marco placed a folder on the table.
Inside were photographs.
Sofia leaving the hospital months before Leo’s birth.
Bianca outside a restaurant.
Lorenzo entering offices.
Me.
I froze.
Photographs of me leaving prenatal appointments.
Buying groceries.
Standing outside the courthouse after Ryan’s preliminary hearing.
Some were months old.
“This started before Lily died,” I whispered.
Lorenzo’s face hardened.
I found another image.
Ryan talking to a man outside a casino.
Vittorio.
My stomach twisted.
“Ryan knew him personally.”
“Yes.”
A final photograph showed Ryan beside my car.
Date stamped two days before he pushed me down the stairs.
On the back, someone had written:
PRESSURE HER. WE NEED HER DESPERATE.
I stopped breathing.
Lorenzo took the photo from me.
His face transformed.
I had seen him angry.
This was different.
“What does that mean?”
Marco answered carefully.
“Ryan told investigators Vittorio instructed him to create financial pressure so Anna would accept certain employment.”
I could barely hear him.
“Did Vittorio tell Ryan to hurt me?”
“No.”
“Did he tell him to hurt Lily?”
“No evidence of that.”
But something inside me had still broken.
My daughter’s death might have begun with a stranger’s plan to make me desperate.
Ryan had made the choice.
Ryan had pushed me.
But Vittorio had been pulling threads around our lives long before I knew his name.
I started shaking.
Lorenzo moved toward me.
I stepped back.
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
“I need air.”
Marco said, “You can’t leave this floor.”
“I know.”
I walked into the private family lounge.
Lorenzo followed at a distance.
I turned.
“I said—”
“I’m not touching you.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because you shouldn’t be alone.”
“I have been alone for three weeks.”
His expression softened.
“That doesn’t mean you should have been.”
That broke me.
I cried.
Not elegantly.
Not quietly.
I cried for Lily.
For the stairs.
For the tiny pink hat the nurse had put on her.
For the milk that came with no baby to drink it.
For the fact that my grief had become useful to monsters.
Lorenzo remained across the room.
He did not touch me.
He did not tell me to stop.
He just stayed.
Eventually, I whispered, “I hate him.”
“Ryan?”
“Both of them.”
“You’re allowed.”
“I want them to hurt.”
Lorenzo’s eyes darkened.
“That feeling is allowed too.”
“But I don’t want to become them.”
“You won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you’re afraid of becoming them.”
I looked at him.
He understood darkness better than I did.
That frightened me.
It also made me trust him a little.
Later that afternoon, Evelyn woke.
She asked for one person.
Not Lorenzo.
Not police.
Me.
I refused at first.
Then she sent a message through the nurse.
Tell Anna the baby was never the real target.
I changed my mind.
The hospital arranged a secure video call.
Evelyn appeared on screen pale and bruised, oxygen tubing beneath her nose.
I hated her immediately.
“You poisoned Leo.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“Yes.”
The admission stunned me.
“Why?”
“Because Vittorio threatened my daughter.”
“You expect sympathy?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She closed her eyes.
“He made me start with small doses.”
“You nearly killed him.”
“I know.”
“You may have helped kill Sofia.”
“I didn’t kill her.”
“The recording—”
“I sedated her.”
“Without permission.”
“Yes.”
“And Vittorio?”
“He injected something into her IV after I left.”
Lorenzo, standing behind me, went rigid.
Evelyn continued.
“I came back. Sofia was bleeding. Vittorio told me if I spoke, my daughter would disappear.”
Lorenzo stepped into view.
“Where is he?”
Evelyn stared at him.
“I don’t know.”
“You worked for him.”
“I obeyed him.”
“Same difference.”
“No.”
Her voice cracked.
“He has people everywhere.”
“Where is he going?”
Evelyn looked toward the hospital door as if afraid someone might hear.
“He doesn’t care about the family companies anymore.”
“Then what does he want?”
“You.”
Lorenzo’s expression hardened.
“He has wanted you dead for months.”
“Why wait?”
“Because killing you directly would start a war.”
“So he kills my wife and child instead?”
“No.”
Evelyn’s eyes shifted to me.
“He needed Leo sick.”
“Why?”
“To control where you went.”
Lorenzo froze.
“What?”
“The specialists. The hospitals. The private clinics. Every emergency changed your schedule.”
A terrible understanding crossed his face.
Evelyn whispered, “Vittorio wasn’t weakening Leo to inherit.”
“Then why?”
“He was studying your security.”
Silence.
“Every time Leo got worse, you abandoned meetings, changed routes, reduced guards elsewhere.”
Lorenzo stared at her.
“He used my son as bait.”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
Evelyn began crying.
“The Rossi Foundation gala.”
Bianca inhaled sharply.
The gala was three nights away.
Lorenzo’s family attended every year.
Hundreds of guests.
Politicians.
Executives.
Judges.
“All of us will be there,” Bianca whispered.
Evelyn nodded.
“That’s the point.”
“What is he planning?” Lorenzo demanded.
“I don’t know.”
“Think.”
“He kept saying the same phrase.”
“What phrase?”
Evelyn looked directly into the camera.
“By midnight, there will be no Rossi family left to inherit anything.”
The screen went silent.
May you like
Vittorio Rossi wasn’t planning one murder.
He was planning to erase an entire family in a single night.
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