Chapter 8 - The Price of Treason
By the time the sun rose over the Hudson, the estate was surrounded by police cars and emergency vehicles, their red and blue lights flashing against the gray stone walls of the mansion.
The two wounded gunmen were being loaded into ambulances under heavy police guard. The third man, the one Adriano had knocked out, was being led away in handcuffs, his head wrapped in a bloody bandage.
And then there was Vanessa.
She sat on the steps of the main entrance, her red silk blouse torn and stained with soot and rain. Her hands were cuffed behind her back, her face blank, her eyes staring at the gravel as if she had forgotten how to see.
Adriano walked down the steps, his arm wrapped in a clean bandage where a piece of glass had cut him. He stood in front of her, his shadow falling over her small, broken frame.
"You brought killers into my house, Vanessa," he said, his voice flat, devoid of any anger, which made it far more terrifying. "You let them point guns at my children."
"They were going to kill me, Adriano," she whispered, not looking up. "Julian... he would have killed me if I didn't help them."
"You chose your life over my sons," Adriano said. "You chose your greed over their safety. That is a choice you will have the next twenty-five years to think about in a federal prison."
"Adriano, please," she sobbed, finally looking up at him, her eyes filled with a desperate, pathetic pleading. "I didn't know they were going to shoot. I thought they just wanted to frighten you."
"Goodbye, Vanessa," Adriano said, turning his back on her.
May you like
He walked back into the house, where Helena was waiting with two cups of hot chocolate for the boys. The mansion was messy, the walls chipped by bullets and the floors covered in glass, but as Adriano looked at his sons, he realized the air had finally cleared.
The lie was gone.
