Chapter 7 - The Desperate Strike
While Emily tasted peace for the first time, Derek Vance was drowning in bitter ruin. Hiding in a filthy motel on the south side of Chicago with a warrant out for his arrest on tax fraud and corporate extortion, he watched television reports praise Emily Moretti as the new patroness of the Chicago Arts Foundation.
"She ruined me," Derek snarled, tossing an empty whiskey bottle against the peeling wallpaper. "She made a fool out of me with that mafia butcher. I made her who she is, and she thinks she can just become royalty?"
Consumingly obsessed and entirely stripped of his sanity, Derek reached out to the remnants of a rival cartel that Alexander had driven out of the city months prior. He offered them his remaining offshore account passwords in exchange for a hit squad and untraceable weapons. "I don't care about the money," Derek told the scarred mercenary on the encrypted line. "I just want Emily dead. If I can't have her, Alexander Moretti will bury her."
Three days later, Emily decided to visit her late father’s grave at St. Mary’s Cemetery to place white roses on his tombstone. Alexander had insisted on accompanying her with a heavy security detail, but an urgent fire at the harbor docks—carefully orchestrated by Derek’s paid mercenaries as a diversion—forced Alexander to split his forces.
"Stay close to Marco," Alexander ordered Emily, kissing her forehead deeply before climbing into his armored SUV. "I will be back in thirty minutes. Do not leave the chapel gates."
"I promise. Be safe, Alexander," Emily said, clutching his lapels.
May you like
As Alexander’s convoy sped down the hill, dark rain clouds rolled over the cemetery. Emily knelt before her father’s simple granite headstone, bowing her head in prayer. "Thank you, Dad," she whispered. "He saved me. Just like you saved his brother."
Suddenly, the crack of a rifle shattered the afternoon quiet. Marco grunted, spinning around as a bullet grazed his shoulder. "Mrs. Moretti, down! Snipers!"
