Chapter 6 - The Night the House Turned Against Him
Gunfire began downstairs.
Arthur grabbed Norah and pulled her behind a stone column.
Emergency lights flooded the corridor red.
Men shouted.
Glass shattered.
The estate had become a battlefield in less than thirty seconds.
Evelyn had prepared for Arthur’s betrayal.
Half his security detail belonged to her.
Arthur led Norah through the hidden maintenance passages.
The same corridors that had allowed him to escape her basement bathroom now became their only route out.
“You planned these?”
“My grandfather did.”
“For what?”
“Exactly this.”
They reached the garage.
Vincent was waiting.
He held a gun.
Arthur pushed Norah behind him.
Vincent smiled.
“You always were sentimental.”
Arthur said nothing.
“You could have had everything.”
“I did.”
Arthur glanced at Norah.
“For a while, I just didn’t know what everything meant.”
Vincent fired.
Arthur shoved Norah down.
The bullet struck him.
He staggered.
Norah screamed his name.
Arthur returned fire.
Vincent disappeared behind a vehicle.
Norah crawled toward Arthur.
Blood spread beneath his ribs.
“No.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve been shot.”
“I noticed.”
Even then, he sounded irritated.
Norah pressed both hands against the wound.
Arthur looked at her face.
“Norah.”
“Don’t.”
“If we don’t get out—”
“Don’t you dare start saying goodbye.”
His mouth moved faintly.
“Bossy.”
“You came into my bedroom crying. You lost the right to complain.”
A weak laugh escaped him.
Then Vincent appeared.
His weapon rose.
A shot exploded.
Vincent fell.
Paulie stood behind him.
Pale.
Bandaged.
Alive.
“Still teaching you to watch your back,” he muttered.
They escaped.
Arthur spent six hours in surgery.
Norah waited in a private hospital corridor with dried blood covering both hands.
Paulie sat beside her.
He explained what Arthur had never told her.
Arthur had let people escape before.
Men ordered killed by his father.
Families caught in debts.
Witnesses.
He had quietly weakened the organization for years while maintaining the appearance of control.
“Doesn’t make him innocent,” Paulie said.
“I know.”
“But maybe it means he was trying before he knew what trying was supposed to look like.”
At dawn, the surgeon emerged.
Arthur would live.
Norah entered his room.
He was unconscious.
For once, no expensive suit.
No weapon.
No men waiting for instructions.
Just Arthur.
She sat beside him.
Hours later, his eyes opened.
He saw her.
His fingers moved weakly.
Norah took his hand.
“You stayed.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She looked at him.
“Don’t make me regret it.”
Arthur closed his eyes again.
But his fingers tightened around hers.
Outside, federal agents entered the Costello estate.
Because before the shooting began, Arthur had sent them everything.
Every ledger.
Every account.
May you like
Every name.
Including his own.
