Chapter 5
A blinding spotlight suddenly pierced the darkness, sweeping across the terrace and pinning us in a harsh, brilliant glare.
The deafening whump-whump-whump of a helicopter rotor drowned out the sound of the rain. The aircraft hovered just beyond the tree line, kicking up a furious gale that whipped my soaked dress around my legs and sent the patio furniture skittering across the marble.
"FBI! DROP YOUR WEAPONS! YOU ARE SURROUNDED!" a mechanically amplified voice boomed from the helicopter.
Chaos exploded on the terrace.
Luca’s remaining loyal men, realizing the sheer scale of the federal raid, instantly dropped their weapons, throwing their hands in the air. Survival instinct overrode syndicate loyalty in a heartbeat.
Maria Rossi, however, didn't surrender. The elegant woman in the cream coat turned and bolted toward the heavy glass doors of the mansion, desperate to escape before the perimeter was fully breached.
"Not this time," Marcus growled.
He didn't fire his weapon. He surged forward, tackling the older woman to the wet marble with brutal efficiency, pinning her arms behind her back.
"You’re going to answer for Elena," Marcus hissed in her ear, pulling a pair of heavy zip-ties from his tactical belt.
But Luca didn't surrender, and he didn't run.
The appearance of the FBI hadn't broken him; it had pushed him into absolute, terrifying desperation. The helicopter noise masked his movements. While everyone else was looking up, Luca kept his eyes locked on me, and the silver keycard dangling from my fingers.
He lunged.
I didn't have time to react. He crossed the distance between us in two massive strides, grabbing my wrist with crushing, agonizing force.
I screamed as the keycard slipped from my fingers, clattering onto the stone railing before teetering over the edge.
Luca didn't care about me anymore. He shoved me violently backward to reach for the card.
The wet marble offered no traction. My bare feet slipped.
I lost my balance, stumbling backward toward the very edge of the terrace that overlooked the steep, rocky ravine. There was no railing on this section, only a sheer, terrifying drop into the darkness.
"Isabella!" Enzo roared, sprinting across the terrace.
I threw my arms backward, windmilling desperately, but the momentum was too great. The heavy weight of my pregnancy pulled me off balance.
For the second time that night, the ground vanished beneath my feet.
But this time, I wasn't falling into a swimming pool.
I was falling into the abyss.
My hands scrambled frantically for purchase, catching the slick, cold edge of the stone terrace. The rough stone tore the skin from my palms, but I held on with a primal, ferocious strength fueled entirely by the fierce desire to protect the life inside me.
My body slammed hard against the stone wall of the ravine, the breath exploding from my lungs in a painful rush.
I dangled there, suspended fifty feet above the jagged rocks, the freezing rain beating down on me, my arms screaming in agony as they supported the weight of two lives.
"Help!" I screamed, the sound tearing from my throat, raw and desperate.
Above me, on the terrace, I heard a violent struggle.
Luca had secured the keycard, but Enzo had tackled him to the ground before he could turn his weapon back on me or make a run for the house. The two brothers fought brutally, a tangle of expensive suits and desperate violence.
"Hold on, Isabella!" a voice yelled from directly above me.
I looked up.
It wasn't Enzo or Marcus.
It was Vanessa.
The young mistress, the woman who had demanded I pack my bags, the woman who had watched me drown in the pool, was lying on her stomach on the wet marble, reaching her manicured hands down toward me over the edge of the abyss.
Her flawless makeup was ruined, her hair plastered to her face, and her eyes were wide with genuine, unadulterated terror.
"Give me your hand!" Vanessa screamed over the roar of the helicopter.
I stared at her, stunned. "You... you hate me."
"I hate him!" Vanessa sobbed, reaching further down, her torso precariously close to the edge. "He was going to kill you! He used me! Please, Isabella, reach up! I won't let you fall!"
My fingers were slipping. The rain made the stone impossibly slick. I didn't have a choice.
I let go of the stone with my right hand, swinging my arm upward in a desperate, terrifying gamble.
Vanessa’s hand clamped around my wrist like a vice.
Her grip was surprisingly strong, fueled by panic and adrenaline, but she wasn't strong enough to pull me up. My sudden weight dragged her forward. She cried out, her chest sliding over the edge of the stone.
"I can't hold you!" Vanessa panicked, her other hand scrambling for purchase on the slippery marble above. "You’re too heavy!"
"Don't let go!" I pleaded, tears streaming down my face, terrified of the black void beneath me.
Suddenly, a massive, strong hand clamped down over Vanessa’s wrist, anchoring her. Another hand reached down, grabbing the fabric of my soaked dress near my shoulder.
"I’ve got you, Bella," Enzo’s voice grunted from above, strained with immense effort.
With a powerful, synchronized heave, Enzo and Vanessa hauled me upward.
I scrambled over the edge of the stone, collapsing onto the wet marble of the terrace, gasping for air, clutching my stomach protectively.
Vanessa collapsed beside me, sobbing hysterically, curling into a tight ball on the ground.
I rolled onto my side, looking up at Enzo. He was panting heavily, a dark bruise already forming on his jaw where Luca had struck him.
"Where is he?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
Enzo pointed toward the center of the terrace.
Luca was pinned face-down on the marble by four heavily armed FBI tactical agents. They were securing heavy steel cuffs around his wrists, reading him his rights over the deafening noise of the chopper.
The keycard lay abandoned on the ground a few feet away, secured by another agent in an evidence bag.
It was over.
The monster who had orchestrated my life was finally in chains.
I slowly pushed myself into a sitting position, ignoring the stinging pain in my torn hands. I looked over at Vanessa. She was still weeping, shivering uncontrollably in the rain.
I reached out and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
She flinched, looking up at me with wide, fearful eyes, expecting a strike or a curse.
"Thank you," I whispered, the words genuine and heavy with gratitude.
Vanessa stared at me, fresh tears spilling over her eyelashes. She didn't say a word, simply nodding her head in a silent, fragile truce.
"Isabella," a sharp, authoritative voice called out.
A woman in a dark windbreaker bearing the FBI letters approached me, holstering her weapon.
"I’m Special Agent Vance," she said, offering her hand to help me stand. "You’ve had a remarkably eventful evening, Mrs. Romano."
"It's just Isabella," I corrected softly, accepting her hand and pulling myself up. "I'm not his wife anymore."
Agent Vance offered a tight, respectful smile. "Understood. The paramedics are waiting for you in the driveway. We need to get you and the baby checked out immediately."
I nodded, exhaustion finally seeping into my bones.
Enzo walked beside me, his arm wrapped securely around my shoulders, guiding me through the chaos of federal agents securing the mansion.
As we walked past Luca, who was being hauled to his feet by two agents, he locked eyes with me one last time.
There was no apology in his gaze. No regret. Only a cold, terrifying promise of vengeance.
"You think you’ve won, Isabella?" Luca snarled, his voice carrying over the noise. "That child isn't yours! My lawyers will tear you apart in court! I will take my heir, even from behind bars!"
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I didn't stop walking. I didn't even turn my head.
I simply placed my hand over my swollen belly, feeling a strong, reassuring kick against my palm, and walked out the front doors into the flashing lights of the ambulance, ready to fight whatever war came next.
