Chapter 7 - THE NIGHT MARCO CHOSE THEM
The printing warehouse had been abandoned for twelve years, but electricity still ran to the basement.
That fact alone told Marco someone had maintained it.
Rain started as they drove toward the river, thin at first, then hard enough to blur the city lights across the windshield. Isabella sat beside Marco in the rear of an armored SUV. Daniel drove. Two security vehicles followed at a distance. Luca remained at the estate with Mrs. Palmer and four guards, furious that he had not been allowed to come “help catch the bad guys.”
“You should be with him,” Marco said.
“So should you.”
“I know.”
“Then stop saying it.”
He looked at her.
She stared through the rain. “If we keep treating each other like liabilities, Dante wins again.”
Marco said nothing.
The warehouse stood beneath an elevated rail line in a district of shuttered factories and flooded loading docks. Police had been notified, but Marco’s security team arrived first and found a side door unlocked.
Inside, the air smelled of rust and wet paper.
They discovered the basement through a freight elevator shaft.
The room below contained old monitors, server towers, filing cabinets, and photographs.
Hundreds of photographs.
Isabella’s hand went to her mouth.
There were images of her apartment from six years ago, her father’s house, Luca’s hospital, preschool, playground, grocery store. There were pictures of Marco entering hotels, board meetings, restaurants, airports.
On one wall hung a timeline connecting them.
WEDDING.
SEPARATION.
CHILD.
TRUST.
BOARD VOTE.
“This wasn’t just Dante watching us,” Isabella whispered.
Marco opened a filing cabinet.
Inside were copies of company records, cathedral access maps, and private security schedules.
Then he found a folder labeled VIERI.
Tomas Vieri’s death certificate was inside.
So was a second passport issued under another name.
“He staged his death,” Marco said.
A floorboard creaked behind them.
Marco turned.
Tomas stood at the base of the stairs holding a pistol.
He looked older than the cathedral photograph but unmistakable.
Isabella’s breath stopped.
“Hands where I can see them,” Tomas said.
Marco slowly raised his hands.
“You tried to take my son.”
“No.”
“The man we caught gave us your name.”
“He was paid to.”
“By you?”
“By someone who wanted you to come here.”
Marco’s eyes narrowed.
The overhead lights went out.
Gunfire shattered the darkness.
Marco grabbed Isabella and pulled her behind a concrete pillar. Tomas fired toward the stairwell. Someone above returned fire. Glass exploded.
“Who is shooting?” Isabella whispered.
“Tomas isn’t alone.”
“Is he with us?”
“Not exactly.”
Emergency lights flickered red.
Tomas moved toward them.
“Dante set this place up,” he said. “But he stopped controlling it years ago.”
Marco stared at him. “What does that mean?”
“It means your uncle is guilty, but he isn’t the beginning.”
Another burst of gunfire struck the far wall.
Tomas crouched.
“Your father found irregular transfers before his plane went down. He thought Dante was stealing from the trust. Dante was. But the money was going somewhere else.”
“To who?”
“I never learned the name.”
“Convenient.”
“I was the one ordered to plant the equipment at the cathedral. Dante told me it was a security test. When I realized the target was Isabella, I copied everything. I hid the card in the wall because I thought I could sell it later.”
Isabella’s expression hardened. “You watched my son for years.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Tomas looked ashamed for the first time. “At first for money. Later to keep track of who else was watching him.”
“You expect me to thank you?”
“No.”
A metal door slammed above.
Footsteps descended.
Tomas raised the pistol.
Marco pushed Isabella farther behind the pillar.
Three masked men entered.
The first fired.
Tomas returned fire and fell behind a desk.
Marco grabbed a fallen metal pipe and struck the second man when he came around the pillar. The third attacker fired toward Isabella.
Marco moved without thinking.
He stepped into the line of fire and tackled her.
The bullet struck his shoulder.
He hit the floor hard.
“Marco!”
“I’m fine.”
He was not fine.
Blood spread through his shirt.
Isabella pressed both hands over the wound while security officers stormed the basement from the opposite stairwell. The fight ended in less than a minute. One attacker escaped through a service tunnel. Two were arrested. Tomas disappeared during the confusion.
In the ambulance, Marco refused pain medication until he knew Luca was safe.
“He’s safe,” Isabella told him for the fifth time.
Marco’s face was pale. “Say it again.”
“He’s safe.”
Only then did he close his eyes.
At the hospital, doctors removed the bullet. It had passed through muscle without striking bone or artery.
Isabella sat beside his bed until dawn.
When Marco woke, he found her holding the clinic drawing.
“You kept it,” she said.
He looked at the paper.
“I told him I would.”
She unfolded it carefully. Three stick figures beside a black car. Mom. Luca. Serious man.
“Marco.”
“Yes?”
“I spent six years being angry at you because anger was easier than wondering if I had been wrong.”
He watched her.
“I was wrong about some things.”
“So was I.”
“I should have tried harder to find you.”
“I should have found a way to reach you that no one could intercept.”
“You were shot tonight.”
“I noticed.”
Despite everything, she laughed.
Marco smiled weakly.
Then Isabella leaned forward and kissed him.
It was not the kiss of two people returning to who they had been.
Those people no longer existed.
It was the kiss of two people deciding that what survived might still be worth choosing.
When she pulled back, Marco touched her face.
“Don’t do that because I got shot.”
“I’m not.”
“Good.”
“Marco?”
“Yes?”
“If you ever step in front of a bullet again, I’ll kill you myself.”
His smile deepened.
The door opened.
Luca ran into the room in dinosaur pajamas.
“Dad!”
Marco barely had time to brace before the boy climbed onto the bed.
Isabella caught him. “Careful, careful.”
Luca looked at the bandage. “Did the bad guy shoot you?”
“Yes.”
“Did you win?”
Marco glanced at Isabella.
“We survived.”
Luca seemed to consider that.
“Is that winning?”
Marco put one arm around his son.
“Sometimes.”
Outside the room, Daniel appeared with a sealed evidence bag.
Inside was a ledger recovered from the warehouse.
The first page contained years of payments authorized through shell companies linked to Dante Rinaldi.
The last page contained a name no one recognized.
A single initial.
A. V.
Beside it was a note:
ORIGINAL ORDER — VALENTI AIRCRAFT.
Marco stared at the words.
May you like
The threat against Isabella had begun six years ago.
The war over his family had begun even earlier.
