Chapter 14 - The Wedding Dress Covered in Blood
The federal government took Michael Carter’s ledgers.
Matteo Rossi wanted them back.
Adrian wanted me underground.
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I went wedding-dress shopping.
That was Elisabetta’s idea.
“If we stop living,” she announced, “the criminals win.”
Adrian hated the plan.
Elisabetta ignored him.
At eighty-two, she treated billionaire authority like background noise.
So on Saturday morning, my mother, Elisabetta, and I entered a private bridal boutique on Oak Street.
Security occupied every exit.
Marcus inspected the dressing rooms.
Two officers waited outside.
Ridiculous.
Necessary.
For one hour, I almost felt normal.
My mother cried when I stepped out wearing a simple ivory satin gown with long sleeves and a square neckline.
Elisabetta slapped her hands together.
“That one.”
I looked at myself.
For the first time since learning the truth about my father, I imagined walking toward Adrian again.
Not because the secrets no longer mattered.
Because I still loved him.
That frightened me.
My mother approached.
“You look beautiful.”
“I don't know if there will be a wedding.”
Her eyes softened.
“He lied because he was afraid.”
“That doesn't make it right.”
“No.”
She adjusted the veil.
“But fear makes people stupid.”
“You included?”
“Especially me.”
Before I could answer, glass shattered downstairs.
Marcus shouted.
“DOWN!”
The boutique exploded into motion.
Security rushed the staircase.
Elisabetta grabbed my mother’s hand.
I pulled both women behind the dressing platform.
Gunshots cracked outside.
Not inside.
Then smoke flooded beneath the front doors.
Fire alarm.
Sprinklers.
Chaos.
Marcus burst into the room.
“Rear exit!”
We moved.
I was still wearing the wedding dress.
Of course.
A guard opened the back stairwell.
We descended two flights.
Then someone fired from below.
The guard fell backward.
Blood spread across his shoulder.
Clara screamed.
Marcus returned fire.
“Up!”
We reversed direction.
Footsteps thundered above.
Trapped.
Then my sapphire pendant vibrated.
Adrian’s voice came through a tiny speaker.
“Sophie.”
“I’m here.”
“Roof.”
“What?”
“Go up.”
Marcus understood.
We climbed.
My dress tore at the hem.
Smoke thickened.
Elisabetta cursed in Italian.
Clara somehow kept moving despite recovering from cancer.
We reached the roof.
A black helicopter descended through freezing wind.
Adrian stood inside.
Of course he did.
Marcus pushed Elisabetta aboard.
Then Clara.
Then me.
A bullet struck the metal railing beside my head.
Adrian grabbed my waist and hauled me inside.
The helicopter rose.
Below us, three armed men ran across the neighboring rooftop.
Police vehicles flooded Oak Street.
I looked down at my ruined dress.
A streak of blood crossed the white satin.
Not mine.
The wounded guard’s.
Adrian saw it.
His face went white.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
He grabbed my face.
“Sophie.”
“I’m not hurt.”
He pulled me against him.
For several seconds, neither of us cared who was watching.
Then Elisabetta said, “If you two are finished, my hair is being destroyed.”
I laughed.
Actually laughed.
Adrian looked at me like the sound saved him.
At the penthouse, investigators identified the attackers.
Matteo’s crew.
One captured alive.
Under questioning, he revealed the attack had not been intended to kill me.
“What did they want?” I asked.
Marcus placed a photograph on the table.
The sapphire pendant.
My distress necklace.
“They believed the key to your father’s evidence was inside it.”
I frowned.
“The key was in my mother's necklace.”
“They didn't know that.”
Adrian stared at the captured man’s file.
“This was reconnaissance.”
“For what?”
“The real attack.”
My stomach tightened.
“When?”
Marcus’s phone buzzed.
He read the message.
Then looked at Adrian.
“The city just approved the Voss Foundation dock redevelopment ceremony for next Friday.”
Adrian understood.
“So?”
Marcus handed him the phone.
Matteo had sent one message directly to Adrian:
BRING SOPHIE TO THE DOCKS. FINISH WHERE HER FATHER STARTED.
I stared at the words.
The docks.
Where my father’s truth had begun.
Adrian tore the phone from Marcus’s hand.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“No what?”
“You are not going.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Sophie.”
“This man has been chasing my father’s ghost for eighteen years.”
“I don't care.”
“I do.”
“He wants you there because you're leverage.”
“Then we use that.”
“No.”
I stepped close.
“I am done hiding from men who think fear belongs to them.”
Adrian stared at me.
The room became silent.
May you like
Then I said:
“We end this at the docks.”
