Chapter 6 - The Night I Chose My Own Life
Of all the people I expected to find bleeding inside Vincent DeLuca's house during an armed attack, Vanessa Reed wasn't even on the list.
She collapsed before reaching us.
I caught her.
"Vanessa!"
Her hands were trembling.
Blood soaked the side of her dress.
Vincent crouched beside her.
"Gunshot?"
"No," she gasped. "Glass."
A shard had sliced her side.
Painful.
Messy.
But hopefully survivable.
Marcus rushed into the hallway.
"We need to move."
Vincent pointed toward a reinforced door.
"Safe room."
Two guards lifted Vanessa.
I followed.
Gunshots cracked from somewhere downstairs.
Vincent stayed behind.
I grabbed his hand.
"You promised."
His eyes met mine.
"I know."
"Come back."
"I will."
Then he was gone.
The safe room sealed behind us.
Vanessa sat on the floor while a medic pressed gauze against her wound.
She looked smaller without perfect makeup and camera-ready confidence.
Human.
I hated that it surprised me.
"Why are you here?" I asked.
She closed her eyes.
"Because Tyler is an idiot."
"That explains very little."
She laughed weakly.
"I found messages."
"What messages?"
"Between Tyler and the men working for Carlo."
My anger returned.
"He said he barely knew them."
"He lied."
"Shocking."
Vanessa winced as the medic tightened the bandage.
"They paid him."
"For what?"
"Information about you."
My stomach dropped.
"What information?"
"Your schedule. Your apartment. Your mother."
I felt sick.
Vanessa looked at me.
"I didn't know at first."
"But eventually you did."
She nodded.
"Three days ago."
"And you said nothing?"
Shame filled her face.
"I was scared."
"So was I."
"I know."
"Did that stop you from going online and humiliating me?"
She looked away.
No answer.
I laughed bitterly.
"Unbelievable."
"I was jealous."
I stared.
"Of me?"
Her eyes filled with tears.
"I know how ridiculous that sounds."
"Yes."
She wiped her cheek angrily.
"But Tyler never stopped talking about you."
That made no sense.
"He hated me."
"No."
She looked directly at me.
"He hated that you stopped needing him."
Something inside me went still.
"He checked your social media constantly. Asked mutual friends whether you were dating. When he found out where you worked, he insisted we go there."
I remembered the engagement dinner.
The champagne.
The humiliation.
"He planned it."
Vanessa nodded.
"He wanted you to see the ring."
My stomach twisted.
"And you agreed?"
"I wanted to win."
Her voice cracked.
"God, that's pathetic."
For the first time, I agreed without anger.
Just sadness.
Vanessa had spent months competing with me.
I had spent years competing with women like Vanessa.
And Tyler benefited from both of us believing another woman was the problem.
"The night Vincent kissed you, Tyler lost it," she continued. "At home he smashed his phone against the wall."
"Because someone defended me?"
"Because Vincent chose you publicly."
There was that word again.
Chose.
Vanessa swallowed.
"Carlo's people contacted him the next day."
"What did they offer?"
"Two million dollars."
My breath caught.
"For me?"
"For access to Vincent."
Vanessa looked toward the sealed door.
"They figured Vincent's security would tighten around you. Tyler was supposed to get close enough through your history to learn routes, schedules, weaknesses."
"He handed over the keycard."
"That was only part of it."
A terrible feeling grew in my chest.
"What else?"
Vanessa reached into her dress pocket.
The medic tried to stop her.
She pulled out a flash drive.
"This."
I stared at it.
"What is it?"
"I copied Tyler's laptop."
She placed it in my hand.
"Names. Payments. Carlo's accounts. Messages."
"Enough for the police?"
"Maybe more."
I closed my fingers around it.
"Why bring it here?"
"Because I finally realized Tyler wasn't just angry."
Vanessa looked afraid.
"He was helping people who planned to kill you."
An enormous bang struck the safe-room door.
Everyone froze.
Another impact.
The guards raised their weapons.
"Stay back," one ordered.
A third impact.
Then silence.
My heartbeat thundered.
Suddenly, Vincent's voice came through the intercom.
"Emily?"
I rushed toward it.
"Vincent!"
"Are you hurt?"
"No."
"Vanessa?"
"Alive."
"Open the door."
The guard entered a code.
Vincent stepped inside.
Blood streaked his cheek.
I crossed the room before thinking and wrapped my arms around him.
For one second, he stiffened.
Then he held me tightly.
"You're bleeding."
"Scratch."
"That's becoming your favorite word."
He kissed my hair.
"The estate is secure."
"Carlo?"
"Gone."
My heart sank.
"He was here?"
"His men were."
I handed him the drive.
"Vanessa brought this."
Vincent looked at her.
For the first time, Vanessa seemed genuinely terrified of him.
"What is it?"
"Evidence," I said.
He plugged it into a secure laptop.
Files appeared.
Dozens.
Financial transactions.
Encrypted communications.
Photographs.
Names.
Marcus scrolled quickly.
Then stopped.
"Boss."
Vincent leaned closer.
A document filled the screen.
It contained details about my father's accident.
Date.
Vehicle.
Payment.
Driver.
Authorization.
C. Moretti.
My legs weakened.
Proof.
After all those years.
Proof.
Vincent caught me again.
"I want the police."
His jaw tightened.
"Emily."
"I mean it."
Carlo had lived outside the law for decades.
But this evidence connected him to murder, organized crime, bribery, attempted murder, and more.
Vincent looked at the screen.
Then at me.
"You understand what happens if I hand this over."
"What?"
"My family's businesses will be investigated too."
I realized the cost.
"Could you go to prison?"
His silence frightened me.
"Vincent?"
"Some things I've done are legal."
"And others?"
He didn't answer.
I stepped away.
Everything warm between us suddenly became complicated again.
"I won't lie to you," he said.
"Good."
"I have hurt people."
My throat tightened.
"I have ordered things I regret."
"What things?"
He looked toward Vanessa and Marcus.
"Not here."
"Then when?"
"Tonight."
"No."
I shook my head.
"Now."
Vincent held my gaze.
"I took control of my father's organization at twenty-six. Men tested me. Some tried to kill me. Some threatened people around me."
His voice remained steady.
"I retaliated."
"Did you kill people?"
Long silence.
"Yes."
I closed my eyes.
I had known what he was.
Everyone knew.
But knowing a reputation and hearing him admit it were different.
"Emily."
"I need a minute."
He didn't follow when I walked away.
That mattered.
An hour later, sunrise began turning the windows gray.
I found Vincent alone in the ruined study.
Broken glass covered the floor.
Smoke stains crawled up one wall.
He stared outside.
"I can't pretend it doesn't bother me," I said.
"I don't expect you to."
"I don't want that life."
"You shouldn't."
"I won't raise children around guns."
His head turned sharply.
I immediately regretted saying children.
Not because I didn't mean it.
Because his expression changed.
Hope.
Terrifying, beautiful hope.
"I won't ask you to."
"Then what are we doing?"
He looked around the destroyed room.
"For years, I told myself there was no exit."
"And now?"
"Now I'm considering whether that was true or merely convenient."
I approached.
"Carlo gets arrested. The evidence goes to federal prosecutors."
Vincent nodded slowly.
"And you?"
"I cooperate."
"Even if it costs you everything?"
His gaze moved to me.
"Not everything."
My heart hurt.
"Don't do it for me."
"I'm not."
He stepped closer.
"You reminded me I still had a choice."
That was different.
That I could accept.
Behind us, Vanessa appeared in the doorway.
"Sorry."
She held her phone.
"But we have another problem."
"What?"
"Tyler escaped police custody."
Vincent went still.
"How?"
"Carlo's people intercepted the transport."
I felt cold.
Vanessa swallowed.
"He posted something."
She turned the screen toward us.
A live video.
Tyler sat inside a vehicle.
His face looked frantic.
He stared directly into the camera.
"Emily, you destroyed my life."
Vincent's hand tightened.
Tyler continued.
"You want DeLuca? Fine."
Then he smiled.
"But you should know I still have something he wants more."
The camera turned.
My mother sat beside him.
Her hands were tied.
My scream tore from my throat.
Tyler leaned toward the camera.
"Bring Vincent to Pier 17."
The video cut off.
For one horrible second, nobody moved.
Then Vincent reached for his weapon.
I grabbed his wrist.
"No."
"They have your mother."
"I know."
"I'm ending this."
"No."
Tears blurred my vision.
"If you go there angry, Carlo wins."
"Emily—"
"We have evidence."
I held up Vanessa's flash drive.
"We have the police."
His eyes burned.
"And we have me."
Vincent stared at me.
"I'm not using you as bait."
"You aren't."
I swallowed my fear.
May you like
"I'm choosing to go."
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