Chapter 5 - The Return to the Rossi EstateThe rain had turned into a torrential downpour by the time our SUV swept through the wrought-iron gates of the Rossi estate. The towering stone mansion loomed against the dark night sky like a gothic fortress, its windows glowing with warm, mocking light.
In the back seat, Grace held our baby tightly against her chest, weeping softly as she pressed endless kisses to his tiny head. She had refused to let go of him since I buckled her into the passenger seat outside Harborview. The sight of them together—reunited against every obstacle my mother had engineered—stoked a cold, merciless fire in my veins.
I parked directly in front of the grand entrance, leaving the engine running.
“Stay in the car,” I instructed gently, looking back at Grace. “Lock the doors. Thomas is inside; he’s on our side. If I am not back out here in twenty minutes, take the car and drive straight to federal prosecutor Marcus Vance.”
“Luca, what are you going to do?” Grace asked, her eyes wide with fear for me.
“I’m going to remind my mother who actually runs this family,” I said, opening the door and stepping out into the storm.
I didn't bother ringing the doorbell. I pushed the heavy oak front doors open and stepped into the grand foyer.
The sound of my wet boots echoing across the marble floor brought immediate attention. From the top of the grand staircase, Elena Rossi descended with her usual deliberate, glacial grace, wearing an emerald evening gown that looked like armor.
“You’re back early, Luca,” Elena said smoothly, pausing on the landing to look down at me. “And I see you brought the child back from the pediatrician. Where is Thomas? And more importantly... why do you look like a stray dog tracking mud across my foyer?”
“Where is she, Mother?” I asked, my voice deadly quiet, carrying up the stairwell.
Elena arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Who are you talking about now? The ungrateful civilian girl who abandoned her child and fled into the night? I told you, she—”
“Stop lying!” I roared, taking three rapid steps up the grand staircase.
Elena didn't flinch. She simply raised her hand, and from the shadows of the upper hallway, four armed guards stepped forward, raising their submachine guns, training their sights directly on my chest.
“You always were too sentimental, Luca,” Elena said, her voice dripping with disappointed maternal pity. “A mafia boss cannot afford a weak link. Grace was a liability. She didn't belong in our world. By sending her away, I saved our dynasty from public scandal and internal weakness. You will thank me someday.”
“You think your little private army can protect you?” I asked, a dark, humorless smile touching my lips.
Before Elena could give the order to fire, the heavy oak front doors behind me swung open with a loud crash.
Thomas stepped into the foyer—not alone, but flanked by a dozen of my most trusted captains and loyal enforcers, weapons drawn, laser sights painting a hundred red dots across the chest of every guard on the balcony.
The color instantly drained from Elena’s face. The ice in her demeanor cracked, replaced by a sudden, frantic realization.
“You... you turned my guards against me?” she whispered, staring down at Thomas.
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“Not your guards, Madam,” Thomas replied coldly, stepping aside as Grace walked slowly through the front doors, holding our baby in her arms, flanked by two of my elite bodyguards. “They serve the head of the family. And Mr. Rossi is standing right here.”
Elena gripped the polished wooden banister so hard her knuckles turned white, her eyes darting frantically between my enforcers and me.
