Chapter 8 - The Bloodstained Gala and the Shield of Rinaldi
Three weeks later, the Rinaldi mansion was transformed into a fairytale winter wonderland.
The annual Manhattan Children's Charity Gala—the most exclusive philanthropic event of the year—was being hosted at the grand estate. Hundreds of high-society elites, politicians, and billionaires milled across the candlelit lawn, sipping champagne and listening to a live orchestra play beneath a massive glass pavilion.
And right in the middle of it all, holding my hand and wearing a little red velvet dress that looked like it belonged on a princess, was my daughter, Lucia.
"Mommy, look! There's a chocolate fountain!" Lucia squealed, pointing excitedly toward the catering tent where Marco and Nico were already sneaking marshmallows behind the staff's backs.
"Be careful not to ruin your dinner, sweetie," I laughed, crouching down to adjust her hair bow.
"She's fine, Serena," a deep, warm voice murmured from behind me.
I turned around. Victor stood there, looking impossibly handsome in a classic black tuxedo. Gone was the icy, untouchable mafia boss of my first night in this house; the man standing before me smiled with his eyes, looking relaxed, grounded, and completely at home.
"You spoil her," I teased softly.
"We spoil them," Victor corrected gently, glancing over at Tommy, who was proudly showing Lucia his collection of toy dinosaurs near the marble fountain.
Just as I reached out to touch his lapel to straighten his bow—the exact same gesture that had started this entire crazy journey with Vanessa years ago in another life—the heavy bass of the orchestra suddenly cut out.
A sharp, deafening sound shattered the elegant atmosphere.
BANG.
A gunshot ripped through the glass pavilion.
Panic erupted instantly. Screams echoed across the lawn as socialites scrambled in terror, diving under tables and rushing toward the mansion doors.
"Down! Everybody down!" Victor bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos with terrifying authority.
In a fraction of a second, Victor grabbed Lucia and me, shoving us behind the reinforced stone pillar of the terrace. Marcus and three armed security guards materialized out of nowhere, drawing their weapons and forming a protective perimeter around our family.
"Moretti's men," Victor snarled, his eyes scanning the tree line at the edge of the property where muzzle flashes blinked in the dark. "They're trying to make a final statement."
"Victor, no—" I gasped as he drew a sleek, black 9mm Beretta from his holster, checking the chamber with cold, deadly precision.
"Marcus, get them inside the panic room. Lock the steel doors and don't open them for anyone," Victor ordered, his voice brooking zero argument.
"Daddy, come with us!" Tommy cried out, running over from the fountain with tears streaming down his face.
Victor knelt down, pressing a firm kiss to Tommy's forehead, then to Lucia's head, before looking up at me. His dark eyes held an eternity of unspoken words.
May you like
"I have to end this tonight, Serena," Victor whispered, his thumb grazing my cheek one last time. "Once and for all."
Before I could grab his arm, he stood up, stepped out from behind the stone pillar into the crossfire, and vanished into the dark shadows of the gardens.
