Chapter 5 - The Boss Who Chose the Maid
Beatrice had spent most of her life believing attachment was dangerous.
People became leverage.
Love became weakness.
Family became a location enemies could attack.
So she had chosen isolation.
Then Lorenzo Moretti ruined it.
Not deliberately.
That would have been easier.
He ruined it by staying.
At three in the morning, she found him in the mansion kitchen making coffee badly.
“You own a machine worth more than a car,” she said.
“And yet apparently it requires a degree.”
She took the cup from him.
“You forgot the filter.”
“I have people for this.”
“You had me.”
“Had?”
She looked at him.
“I resigned.”
“I rejected your resignation.”
“You can’t reject it.”
“I just did.”
She almost smiled.
He watched her.
Without the maid uniform, Beatrice wore loose black pants and a sweatshirt. Her hair hung around her shoulders.
For the first time, Enzo saw her as neither servant nor soldier.
Just a woman.
“You haven’t slept,” he said.
“Neither have you.”
“My house is missing a front door.”
“My dead father is alive.”
“Fair.”
Silence settled.
Enzo handed her another cup.
“You really thought he was dead?”
“Since I was fifteen.”
“Who told you?”
“My mother.”
“Where is she?”
“Died eight years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
Beatrice looked surprised.
“Are mafia bosses allowed to say that?”
“Only before sunrise.”
She smiled.
Enzo stared a second too long.
Beatrice noticed.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Whatever that is.”
“I’m drinking coffee.”
“You’re staring.”
“I recently discovered my maid has an entire secret life. I’m entitled to curiosity.”
“You’re entitled to nothing.”
His smile returned.
“There she is.”
Beatrice looked away.
That frightened her more than Voss.
The ease.
The warmth.
The possibility that this mansion had somehow become home.
By morning, they had a plan.
They would not give Voss the archive.
They would make him believe they would.
Gallagher supplied information on Voss’s Chicago contacts.
Father Michael provided records Vittorio had hidden.
Leo coordinated security.
But Enzo did something Beatrice did not expect.
He ordered his criminal businesses temporarily frozen.
No retaliation.
No turf attacks.
No revenge against Gallagher.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because Voss expects me to behave like my father’s son.”
“You are your father’s son.”
“No.”
Enzo looked around the ruined hall.
“I’ve spent my whole life inheriting his enemies.”
He turned to her.
“Maybe I don’t have to inherit his mistakes.”
That stayed with her.
The exchange with Voss was scheduled for midnight at an abandoned lakeside hotel.
Beatrice and Enzo arrived together.
Voss waited.
Thomas Hale sat in a chair beside him.
Alive.
Beatrice forgot everything.
“Dad?”
The older man lifted his head.
His eyes filled.
“Bea.”
Her breath broke.
Twenty years disappeared.
She became fifteen again.
A girl waiting beside a window for a father who never returned.
She stepped forward.
Enzo caught her hand.
Not her arm.
Her hand.
Beatrice stopped.
Thomas shook his head.
“No.”
Voss smiled.
“Touching.”
“Let him go,” Beatrice said.
“The keys.”
Enzo produced his.
Beatrice produced hers.
Voss nodded.
“Place them on the table.”
They did.
Thomas suddenly shouted.
“Beatrice, run!”
Chaos followed.
The lights failed.
Glass shattered.
People moved in the darkness.
Enzo pulled Beatrice behind a concrete divider.
“You okay?”
“My father.”
“I know.”
They moved through the building.
This time, however, Beatrice wasn’t fighting alone.
Leo’s people secured exits.
Gallagher’s men blocked the road—not out of friendship, but because Voss had made himself everyone’s enemy.
Voss’s carefully controlled world began collapsing.
Beatrice reached Thomas first.
She cut his restraints.
He touched her face.
“My little girl.”
Beatrice broke.
For one second, the woman who could stare down armed men disappeared.
She hugged her father.
Hard.
Thomas cried against her shoulder.
“I’m sorry.”
“You left me.”
“I know.”
“You let me think you were dead.”
“I had to.”
“No, you didn’t.”
Her voice cracked.
“You had choices.”
Thomas lowered his head.
“You’re right.”
That answer stopped her anger.
No excuse.
No justification.
Just regret.
Then a sound came from the hallway.
Enzo.
“Beatrice!”
She turned.
Voss stood behind him.
A pistol pressed against Enzo’s side.
“Keys,” Voss said.
Beatrice froze.
Enzo’s eyes met hers.
Voss smiled.
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“You.”
His eyes moved between them.
“You spent your life avoiding attachments, Bea.”
He pushed Enzo forward.
“And then you fell for a Moretti.”
Beatrice’s face remained still.
Enzo’s did not.
He looked at her.
Voss noticed.
“Oh.”
A delighted smile appeared.
“He didn’t know.”
“Shut up,” Beatrice said.
Enzo stared.
“Beatrice?”
“Not now.”
Voss laughed.
For one dangerous second, everyone’s attention shifted.
Thomas moved.
Enzo twisted away.
Beatrice lunged forward.
The struggle ended almost as quickly as it began.
Voss lost control of the weapon.
Leo entered moments later with police sirens already approaching outside.
Voss stared at Beatrice from the floor.
“You think this ends with me?”
“No.”
Beatrice looked down at him.
“But your part does.”
She stepped away.
No execution.
No revenge.
She chose something Voss never expected.
She let him live to face everything he had done.
As officers closed in, Thomas touched Beatrice’s shoulder.
“We need to leave.”
But Beatrice wasn’t looking at him.
She was looking at Enzo.
He approached slowly.
“Was he telling the truth?”
Beatrice sighed.
“Which part?”
“You know which part.”
“Enzo—”
“Do you love me?”
Her father raised his eyebrows.
Leo suddenly became fascinated by the ceiling.
Beatrice glared.
“This is possibly the worst moment you could have chosen.”
“That’s not a no.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“Also not a no.”
She stepped closer.
“You’re arrogant.”
“Yes.”
“Controlling.”
“Sometimes.”
“You spent three years calling me B.”
His expression softened.
“I know.”
“You never saw me.”
“No.”
That answer surprised her.
Enzo didn’t defend himself.
He looked directly into her eyes.
“I didn’t.”
Then he added:
“But I see you now.”
Beatrice’s anger disappeared.
She almost kissed him.
Almost.
Then Thomas spoke behind her.
“Beatrice.”
She turned.
Her father looked terrified.
Not of Voss.
Not of police.
Of something else.
“What?”
Thomas held up the keys.
“These aren’t the originals.”
Beatrice stared.
“What do you mean?”
“Voss switched them.”
Enzo looked toward the entrance.
Voss was gone.
May you like
And somewhere beneath Chicago, a vault containing decades of secrets had just been opened.
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