Chapter 10 - The Ultimate Checkmate and Shocking Twist
The enforcer raised the pistol, aiming directly at my chest. Amara screamed, burying her face in my wet coat.
“Any last words, domestic?” the enforcer sneered, his finger tightening on the trigger.
BANG!
A deafening roar echoed inside the small office.
I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the impact. But the bullet didn't hit me.
Instead, the fake police officer’s eyes widened in sheer shock. A red blossom spread rapidly across his chest. He staggered backward, dropping his weapon, and crashed hard against the filing cabinets before sliding lifelessly to the floor.
The door was kicked wide open with a deafening crash.
Smoke drifted from the barrel of a smoking Glock held in a steady, unyielding hand.
Roman Valente stood in the doorway.
His clothes were torn, blood stained his shoulder from a graze wound, and his face was carved from granite, but he was standing tall, breathing heavily on his own power.
“Nobody touches my staff,” Roman growled, his voice echoing through the precinct halls.
I stared at him in utter disbelief. “Roman? How... how did you escape the medical suite?”
Roman walked into the office, holstering his weapon, and offered a hand to pull me and Amara to our feet.
“You think Dante was the only one playing chess?” Roman said with a grim, knowing smile. “I knew about the coup six months ago. The modified medical chart? I wrote it myself. I needed a catalyst to smoke out every disloyal rat in my inner circle—including my loving wife and my ambitious little brother.”
My jaw dropped. “You... you staged the whole thing?”
“Not the asthma attack,” Roman admitted, touching his chest. “That part was real enough. But the rest? A controlled demolition. Dante thinks he outsmarted me, but right now, my federal security detail is locking down every single asset the Valentes own. Dante and Elena are currently trapped in the main vault with nowhere to go.”
He looked down at Amara, kneeling on one knee so he was eye-level with her.
“And as for you, little one,” Roman said, a rare, genuine smile breaking through his hardened exterior. “You've got sharper eyes than my entire security detail. How would you like a permanent job in this family as my official chief investigator?”
Amara blinked, wiping a tear from her cheek, and considered it seriously. “Do I get paid in ice cream?”
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Roman laughed—a deep, booming sound that shook the walls of the precinct. “Double scoops, every single day.”
As the sirens began to wail in the distance, signaling the absolute collapse of the Valente empire and the dawn of a terrifying new era, I looked at Roman, then down at my daughter. The tea tray was gone, my old life was burned to ashes, but as we walked out into the Chicago sunrise, I knew one thing for certain: questions weren't expensive anymore. They were power.
