Chapter 7 - She Did Not Run Back to Him
Gabriel remained standing.
That surprised everyone.
Especially Victor.
Gabriel looked down at the blood blooming beneath his ribs.
Then he raised his weapon.
Victor dropped his gun.
“Wait.”
Gabriel's expression contained nothing.
“Gabriel,” Beatatrice said.
He stopped.
Not because Victor deserved mercy.
Because she had asked.
Police sirens approached outside.
Victor looked stunned.
“You called the police?”
Beatatrice did.
Before the attack on the safe house, she had activated an emergency transmission Daniel installed on her phone.
Everything Victor had said in the ballroom had been recorded and transmitted.
His confession.
The kidnapping.
The threats.
All of it.
Victor stared at his niece.
“You planned this?”
“Not getting kidnapped.”
Despite the blood and terror, Adrian laughed.
Beatatrice continued.
“But once you brought me here, I decided you were going to talk.”
Federal agents entered minutes later.
Victor Bellini was arrested.
So were four members of his network.
Gabriel collapsed before the ambulance arrived.
Beatatrice rode with him.
She told herself it was because he had been shot protecting her.
Nothing more.
At the hospital, Gabriel underwent surgery.
The bullet had missed his liver by less than an inch.
Beatatrice sat outside the operating room with her mother and sister.
Vanessa could barely look at her.
“I kissed him back.”
Beatatrice said nothing.
“I need you to know that.”
“Why?”
“Because blaming everything on Victor would be easier.”
Vanessa's eyes filled.
“I was scared. I was jealous. You had the life I thought I wanted. Gabriel had been drinking. We argued. Then I kissed him.”
Beatatrice looked at her.
“And he kissed you.”
“Yes.”
“Thank you for telling me.”
Vanessa wiped her face.
“Do you hate me?”
“Tonight?”
Beatatrice considered it.
“A little.”
Vanessa gave a broken laugh.
“Fair.”
“But you're my sister.”
Beatatrice reached for her hand.
“Being my sister doesn't erase what you did. It means I hope someday we can repair it.”
At dawn, the surgeon emerged.
Gabriel would survive.
Beatatrice went into his room alone.
He looked strangely ordinary unconscious.
No tailored suit.
No armed men.
No power.
Just a wounded man connected to machines.
She sat beside him.
Hours later, his eyes opened.
“Bea?”
“I'm here.”
His hand moved.
She instinctively pulled hers away.
Gabriel noticed.
Pain crossed his face.
Not from the bullet.
“You're leaving again.”
“Yes.”
He closed his eyes.
“I won't stop you.”
Beatatrice studied him.
“Say it again.”
He opened his eyes.
“I won't stop you.”
“And the baby?”
“Is our child. Not my property.”
Her throat tightened.
“And me?”
Gabriel swallowed.
“You were never my property.”
“You said I belonged to you.”
“I was wrong.”
Beatatrice waited.
Gabriel did not ask forgiveness.
That mattered more than begging would have.
“I loved you,” she whispered.
“Loved?”
“I don't know.”
He nodded.
A tear slipped toward his temple.
Gabriel Rossy did not cry.
But he did that morning.
Beatatrice stood.
“I need something from you.”
“Anything.”
“Freedom.”
His face tightened.
Then he nodded.
“You have it.”
Three weeks later, Beatatrice filed for legal separation.
Gabriel signed without contest.
She moved into her mother's home while rebuilding Bellini Maritime.
The criminal accounts were frozen.
Legitimate assets remained.
Beatatrice took control.
And she discovered she was good at it.
Very good.
By February, she had replaced three executives.
By March, Bellini Maritime secured a major federal logistics contract.
By April, business magazines were calling the previously invisible Rossy wife one of Chicago's most unexpected new executives.
She hated the attention.
But she loved walking into a room where nobody could lock the door behind her.
Gabriel stayed away.
No surprise visits.
No surveillance.
No threats.
He attended every prenatal appointment only when she invited him.
Sometimes she didn't.
He accepted that.
Then, six weeks before her due date, Daniel arrived with bad news.
Victor had been telling the truth.
The Bishop network was larger than they realized.
Victor wasn't its leader.
“Who is?” Beatatrice asked.
Daniel placed a photograph on her desk.
Beatatrice stared.
The man in the photograph had attended her wedding.
He had toasted her marriage.
He had held her father's coffin.
Senator Malcolm Crane.
Daniel's expression was grim.
“He's been financing the network for twenty-two years.”
Beatatrice looked closer.
Beside Crane stood another familiar figure.
Gabriel.
The photograph had been taken three days earlier.
Her heart stopped.
“What is Gabriel doing with him?”
Daniel shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Beatatrice stared at the image.
For three months, Gabriel had done everything right.
Now he was secretly meeting the man behind her father's murder.
May you like
Maybe Gabriel had changed.
Or maybe the most dangerous lie was the one she desperately wanted to believe.
