Chapter 8: Emma’s Guardian
While Alessandro was tearing Arthur Cole apart in Manhattan, I was in the walled gardens of the Moretti estate.
The rain had cleared, leaving a crisp, bright morning. Emma was feeling better, chasing a yellow butterfly near the rose bushes while a female bodyguard named Sarah stood a discreet ten feet away.
I sat on a stone bench, breathing in the scent of wet earth, trying to process how drastically my life had changed in seventy-two hours.
Then, the tranquility shattered.
A deafening crash echoed from the service gate on the south wall. A heavy delivery truck had just slammed directly through the reinforced steel doors. Before the dust could settle, four men in tactical gear poured out of the back.
"Lockdown!" Sarah screamed, drawing her weapon and sprinting toward Emma.
I lunged forward, my heart stopping in my chest. "Emma!"
But the men weren't there to rob the house. They were moving with military precision, making a direct line for the little girl in the pink dress. Arthur Cole knew he couldn't touch Alessandro directly. He was going for his leverage.
I reached Emma exactly a second before the lead mercenary did. I tackled my daughter to the grass, covering her tiny body entirely with my own, bracing for a bullet, a blow, anything.
"Get off her, you bitch!" the man snarled, grabbing a fistful of my hair.
Gunfire erupted.
The man holding me went rigid. He dropped my hair and collapsed backward onto the grass, a dark crimson stain blooming on his shoulder.
I looked up, trembling violently.
Marcus and the estate's tactical team were swarming the garden from the terrace. They moved like a wave of pure violence, disarming and neutralizing the remaining three men in a matter of seconds.
Ten minutes later, the screech of tires echoed up the driveway. Alessandro’s matte black SUV didn't even park; it skidded onto the gravel, and Alessandro threw the door open before it fully stopped.
He ran across the lawn. The flawlessly composed billionaire was gone. His tie was discarded, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his face a mask of pure terror.
He dropped to his knees in the wet grass beside me.
"Clara," he breathed, his hands frantically checking my arms, my face, pulling me and Emma into a crushing embrace. "Are you hurt? Did they touch her?"
"We're okay," I sobbed, burying my face in his chest. "We're okay."
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He held us so tightly I could hear his heartbeat thundering against my ear. Over the top of my head, I heard him speak to Marcus. His voice was no longer human. It was demonic.
"Put those men in the basement," Alessandro ordered. "Keep them alive. I want to know exactly how much Arthur Cole paid them."
