Chapter 8 - THE PRICE OF COMING HOME
Blood covered Vincent’s hands.
For one terrible second, nothing else existed.
Not Robert.
Not Crown.
Not Daniel.
Not Antonio’s archive.
Only Isabella.
“Look at me.”
Her eyes opened.
“Vincent—”
“Look at me.”
The bullet had entered below her shoulder.
Blood spread across her dress.
Vincent pressed his hand against the wound.
Michael fired.
Robert disappeared behind the servers.
“Samuel!”
Samuel crawled toward them.
“I’m here.”
“Help her.”
“I’m an accountant!”
“Tonight you’re whatever I need.”
Isabella almost laughed.
Vincent stared at her.
“You think this is funny?”
“You’re yelling at an accountant to become a doctor.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You married me.”
His face broke.
“Yes.”
The countdown continued.
7:13.
7:12.
Samuel found an emergency medical kit.
Michael covered the entrance.
Victoria crouched beside Isabella.
“I’m sorry.”
Isabella looked at her.
“For which part?”
Victoria flinched.
Good.
Some wounds required honesty.
“All of it.”
Isabella closed her eyes.
“Then help.”
Victoria pressed gauze against the wound.
Vincent looked at the terminal.
“Tell me about the song.”
Isabella struggled to breathe.
“At our wedding. Your father insisted on choosing the first dance.”
Vincent remembered.
An old Italian melody.
Antonio had joked that Vincent had no taste.
“What about it?”
“The sheet music.”
“What?”
“He gave me the original sheet music afterward.”
“Where is it?”
Isabella opened her eyes.
“In the piano.”
Vincent stared.
“The mansion?”
“Yes.”
“The music room.”
She nodded.
Vincent almost laughed.
The true copy had been inside his own home.
For years.
Daniel was there now.
5:48.
Samuel worked at the terminal.
“I can’t stop the purge.”
“Does it matter?”
Samuel looked at him.
“If Isabella’s right, maybe not.”
Gunfire erupted.
Michael shouted.
“Robert’s moving!”
Vincent kissed Isabella’s forehead.
“I’ll be back.”
“Vincent.”
He stopped.
“Don’t become him.”
“Who?”
“Your father.”
He understood.
Antonio had spent his life protecting secrets until they consumed his family.
Vincent touched her face.
“I won’t.”
He moved through the server rows.
Robert fired twice.
Vincent returned fire.
Metal screamed.
Sparks fell.
Robert shouted from the darkness.
“You think you can walk away from what you are?”
Vincent followed the voice.
“You don’t know what I am.”
“You’re a Moretti!”
“No.”
Vincent moved closer.
“I’m Isabella’s husband.”
Robert laughed.
“That makes you weak.”
Vincent saw his reflection in a steel panel.
Then Robert’s.
Behind him.
Vincent turned.
Robert raised the gun.
Michael fired first.
Robert collapsed.
The gun slid across the floor.
Vincent approached.
Robert was alive.
Barely.
Robert smiled through blood.
“Do it.”
Vincent looked down.
“Kill me.”
For most of Vincent’s life, that would have been easy.
His father had taught him what enemies expected.
Finality.
Fear.
No second chances.
Vincent looked toward Isabella.
Don’t become him.
He lowered the gun.
“No.”
Robert stared.
“You think mercy changes you?”
“This isn’t mercy.”
Vincent stepped back.
“You’re going to live long enough to watch everything you built disappear.”
Robert’s smile faded.
Michael handcuffed him.
The countdown reached zero.
Every server shut down.
Antonio’s archive disappeared.
Robert laughed weakly.
“You lost.”
Vincent looked at Isabella.
“No.”
He lifted her carefully.
“I finally know where to look.”
They rushed Isabella to a private hospital.
The bullet had missed her heart and major arteries.
Surgery lasted two hours.
Vincent stood outside the operating room covered in her blood.
Samuel sat nearby.
Victoria remained silent.
Michael guarded Robert in another facility.
At 4:18 a.m., the surgeon emerged.
“She’s stable.”
Vincent closed his eyes.
For the first time in years, his knees nearly failed him.
“Can I see her?”
“In a few minutes.”
Samuel approached.
“We need to move.”
Vincent stared.
“My wife was just shot.”
“And Daniel knows she survived.”
Vincent’s expression hardened.
Samuel continued.
“If the sheet music contains the backup location, Daniel will find it.”
Vincent looked through the hospital window at Isabella.
Six years ago, he would have left immediately.
Duty first.
Empire first.
Enemies first.
Tonight he remained.
“No.”
Samuel frowned.
“What?”
“I’m staying.”
“But—”
“Michael can secure the mansion.”
“Daniel—”
“Daniel spent his life believing I would choose power over people.”
Vincent looked at Isabella.
“He’s about to learn something.”
Thirty minutes later, Isabella woke.
Vincent sat beside her.
“You stayed.”
“Of course.”
A faint smile.
“That’s new.”
He laughed quietly.
“Yes.”
She touched his hand.
“Go.”
“No.”
“Vincent.”
“No.”
“Daniel has your mother.”
“He wants me.”
“And if you don’t go?”
“He waits.”
“You don’t know that.”
Vincent looked at her.
“I’m not leaving you again.”
She squeezed his hand.
“You’re not leaving me.”
He frowned.
“You’re coming back.”
There was a difference.
Isabella continued.
“Finish this.”
Vincent lowered his head.
Then kissed her hand.
“I love you.”
“I know.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“I don’t think I’ve said it in a way that mattered for six years.”
Her eyes filled.
“I love you.”
She whispered, “Come home.”
Vincent stood.
This time those words meant something entirely different.
At 5:22 a.m., Vincent entered the Moretti mansion with Michael and Samuel.
The place was dark.
No guards.
No Catherine.
No Daniel.
They entered the music room.
The piano remained untouched.
Vincent opened the bench.
Empty.
“The sheet music is gone.”
Michael cursed.
Then the piano began playing.
By itself.
A recording.
The melody from Vincent’s wedding.
Samuel stared.
“It’s encoded.”
“How?”
“The notes correspond to numbers.”
They recorded the sequence.
Samuel decoded it.
A bank.
A safety deposit box.
Vincent recognized the institution.
Moretti International Bank.
His own bank.
“Box number?”
Samuel finished translating.
Again.
Room 317.
Vincent almost smiled.
Antonio had loved circles.
His phone rang.
Daniel.
“Brother.”
“Where is Mother?”
“Alive.”
“Where?”
“Come to the bank.”
Vincent’s eyes narrowed.
“You have the sheet music.”
“Yes.”
“Then why do you need me?”
Daniel laughed.
“Because Father’s final box requires the family heir.”
Vincent understood.
Him.
“And if I refuse?”
Daniel became quiet.
Then Catherine screamed in the background.
“Midday,” Daniel said.
“Come alone.”
The call ended.
Michael looked at Vincent.
“You’re not going alone.”
“No.”
Samuel frowned.
“He explicitly said—”
“I know.”
Vincent looked toward the sunrise outside the mansion.
“For six years, everyone in this family has been fighting alone.”
His eyes hardened.
“That ends today.”
Then Victoria entered behind them.
Vincent reached for his weapon.
She raised both hands.
“I know where Daniel is keeping Emma.”
Samuel froze.
“My daughter?”
Victoria nodded.
“But if we go after her, Daniel will know.”
Vincent stared at his sister.
For the first time, Victoria was asking him to trust her.
After everything she had done to Isabella.
After four years of cruelty.
After helping Robert.
Vincent asked one question.
“Why should I believe you?”
Victoria swallowed.
“You shouldn’t.”
Then she placed a gun on the table.
“But Isabella did.”
Vincent frowned.
Victoria removed a folded note from her pocket.
Isabella’s handwriting.
Vincent opened it.
May you like
Three words.
Give her one chance.
