Chapter 8 - The Fortress on the Hill
The black armored Mercedes surged through the rain-slicked streets of Manhattan, its sirens cutting through the evening traffic.
Sal drove with ruthless efficiency, mounting curbs and bypassing intersections while Marco frantically worked on two encrypted satellite phones in the front passenger seat.
In the back, Elena sat between me and Sophie.
The girl was fast asleep, exhausted by the terror of the afternoon, her head resting heavily against my thigh.
Her small hand was curled tightly around my index finger.
Even in her sleep, she refused to let go.
Elena was staring out the tinted window, watching the neon lights of the city blur into long streaks of red and yellow.
“Is it always like this?” she asked quietly, her voice devoid of anger now, left only with a hollow numbness.
“No,” I said honestly.
“Usually, the monsters hide behind legal briefs and boardroom votes. Nico was desperate.”
“And his mother?”
“Beatrice is worse,” I said.
“Nico is greedy. Beatrice is an ideologue. She believes our family’s wealth was ordained by God to stay under her branch of the family. She thinks she is purifying the bloodline.”
Marco turned in his seat, holding up a tablet screen.
“Matteo, we have an emergency court injunction filed twenty minutes ago in Westchester County.”
“On what grounds?”
“Beatrice’s legal team filed for emergency custody of Sophie Voss.”
My grip on Sophie’s small hand tightened, my knuckles turning stark white.
“Custody?” Elena gasped, whipping her head around.
“How can she file for custody of a child she’s never met?”
“They used the police report from this morning,” Marco said, reading rapidly from the encrypted court docket.
“They claimed Sophie was found abandoned and malnourished in Caruso Tower. They produced forged medical records stating Miss Voss is an unfit mother with a history of severe psychiatric instability and drug dependency.”
“That’s a lie!” Elena shouted, tears of pure rage springing to her eyes.
“I’ve never touched drugs in my life! I work sixty hours a week! I have clean drug screens from the hospital where I washed dishes!”
“It doesn't matter to the emergency judge,” Marco explained grimly.
“Beatrice has two appellate judges on her payroll in that district. They granted temporary protective custody to Beatrice Caruso as the child’s paternal grand-aunt, pending a hearing tomorrow morning.”
“They're going to send state troopers to take her,” Sal muttered from the driver’s seat.
“They won't get within a mile of her,” I said, my voice dropping into that deadly, absolute tone that made even Marco stop talking.
“Sal. Divert the car.”
“Where to, boss? Caruso Tower?”
“No. The Long Island estate.”
Sal’s eyes widened in the rearview mirror.
“The main house? Beatrice is there right now. Along with the family security force.”
“Good,” I said, looking down at my daughter’s pale, sleeping face.
“It saves me the trouble of hunting her down.”
Elena reached across, placing her trembling hand over mine.
“Matteo, please. Look at what they're doing. They have judges. They have police. If you go in there with guns, they’ll lock you away and take Sophie anyway. We need to run.”
I turned to her, raising my free hand to cup the side of her face, brushing away a tear with my thumb.
“Six years ago, you ran, Elena. You ran because you thought I wanted to destroy you. You lived in cold rooms, you starved yourself so our daughter could eat, and you survived on pure courage.”
May you like
I leaned closer until my forehead rested against hers.
“You’re done running. Nobody runs from my family ever again. Tonight, we finish this.”
