Chapter 14 - The Empire Without Chains
At 4:38 in the morning, the first federal vehicles rolled through the Duca gates.
By then, the estate looked like a battlefield disguised as old money.
Broken glass glittered in the library. The dining room chandelier hung crooked and wounded. The wine cellar smelled like ruined Barolo and electrical smoke. The chapel doors stood open, letting in the cold blue hint of dawn.
Mia sat on the front steps while a medic cleaned the cut on her shoulder.
“You should go to the hospital,” he said.
“I’ve heard that a lot tonight.”
“Because it is medically correct.”
“I respect your opinion.”
“You’re ignoring it.”
“Also correct.”
Matteo appeared with two cups of coffee. One side of his face was bruised. There was a cut near his mouth. He still looked unfairly handsome, which Mia considered rude under the circumstances.
He handed her a cup.
“Your father surrendered the drives?” she asked.
Matteo nodded. “Bianca is with him now.”
“And Carlo?”
“In custody. Talking already.”
“That was fast.”
“He has always been loyal to himself first.”
Mia sipped the coffee. It was terrible and perfect.
For a while, they watched agents move in and out of the house.
Finally, Matteo said, “You could have left.”
“When?”
“When the window exploded. When the priest pulled a gun. When Carlo took me. Pick a moment.”
Mia looked at him. “I was hired to protect you.”
“You were hired for one night.”
“Yes.”
“And now?”
She did not answer immediately.
The sky beyond the trees had begun to pale. Dawn was coming quietly, as if embarrassed by what night had done.
“Now,” Mia said, “you’re going to have a very complicated life.”
He smiled. “That was true yesterday.”
“More complicated.”
“Will I need protection?”
“Probably.”
“Will you apply for the position?”
Mia looked at him over the rim of her cup. “You are asking if I want to keep throwing myself in front of bullets for a man who does not listen?”
“I can improve.”
“Doubtful.”
“I can try.”
That was harder to joke about.
Because he meant it.
Behind them, the front doors opened. Lorenzo stepped out, leaning heavily on a cane he had clearly refused until Bianca threatened him with witnesses. His face was pale, but his eyes were clear.
He stopped in front of Mia.
The medic backed away as if sensing history wanted privacy.
Lorenzo said, “Miss Callaway.”
Mia stood, though her ribs protested. “Mr. Duca.”
“I was wrong.”
Matteo’s eyebrows rose.
Mia stayed very still.
Lorenzo continued, each word costing him more than the wound in his side. “No woman could protect my son. That is what I said.”
“Yes,” Mia said.
“I was wrong,” he repeated. “You protected him. You protected me. You protected this house from a man I trusted more than I trusted my own judgment.”
Mia swallowed.
Lorenzo held out his hand.
“Thank you.”
Mia shook it.
His grip was firm. Hers was firmer.
Then he added, “You also destroyed my wine cellar.”
Mia nodded solemnly. “A tragic but necessary sacrifice.”
May you like
Matteo laughed.
To Mia’s surprise, Lorenzo almost did too.
