Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The sound of the basement door unlocking jolts me from my restless sleep. My heart hammers as I push myself up from the thin mattress, bracing for Damiano's rage or Alessio's cold judgment.
Instead, Lucrezia's worried face appears in the doorway.
"Lucrezia?" I whisper, hardly believing she's here.
She slips inside quickly, closing the door behind her.
"Shh," she warns, pressing a finger to her lips as she hurries toward me. "We don't have much time."
Her fingers clutch a key—the second key to my cell that must have been in Damiano's office. She's wearing black leggings and a hoodie, her hair hastily pulled back.
"How did you—"
"I told Samuel I heard something in the garage," she whispers, kneeling beside my cot. "He's guarding the hallway, but he'll check eventually."
I stare at her in disbelief. "You're helping me? After knowing who my father was?"
Lucrezia takes my hands in hers, her grip surprisingly strong. "That's why I'm here. I need to know, Zoe. I need to hear it from you." Her voice cracks slightly. "Did you know? About your father and Bianca?"
"No," I shake my head vehemently, gripping her hands tight. "I swear to you, I didn't know. Byron told me Damiano killed my father in Manhattan that night—the same night Bianca died. He raised me to believe your brother murdered my father over a drug shipment."
Lucrezia searches my face, looking for any sign of deception.
"Byron took me in when I was thirteen," I continue, the words pouring out now.
"He showed me police reports, witness statements—all saying Damiano was responsible.
For twelve years, I believed him." My voice breaks.
"I came here for revenge, yes, but Lucrezia, I didn't know about Bianca. I didn't know my father was involved."
"And now?" she asks softly. "Now that you know what your father did to our family?"
Tears sting my eyes. "I don't know what to believe anymore. If Byron lied about this, what else has he lied about? Was my father really the monster who killed Bianca? Or is there more to the story?"
"I'm getting you out, but I need to know you're telling me the truth. That you didn't know what your father did." Lucrezia says, determination hardening her features.
I look directly into her eyes. "I swear on my father's grave, Lucrezia. I didn't know. And now I need to find out who he really was—and what really happened that night.
Lucrezia's eyes search mine for several heartbeats before her shoulders relax slightly.
"I believe you," she whispers, squeezing my hands. "But Damiano... he's not thinking clearly right now. When he gets like this he won't listen to anyone."
Relief floods through me, but panic follows quickly. "What are we going to do? He'll never—"
"We need to leave," Lucrezia cuts me off, already pulling me to my feet. "Just until he cools down enough to actually hear you. Do you have somewhere we can go? Somewhere safe that no one knows about?"
I hesitate, my mind racing through possibilities. Byron knows all my usual hiding spots—except one.
"Scarlett," I say finally. "My best friend. Byron knows I've kept her in my life, but he doesn't know where she lives now. She changed apartments last month."
Lucrezia nods decisively. "That'll work. I've got my car parked behind the house. We'll need to abandon it somewhere and take a taxi the rest of the way. Alessio can track my car."
"Won't Damiano come after you when he finds out you helped me?"
A flash of fear crosses her face before determination takes its place. "I can handle my brother. But right now, we need to move. Samuel won't stay distracted for long."
She peeks out the door, then gestures for me to follow. We creep up the basement stairs, pausing at the top to listen for footsteps.
"If Daniel calls Samuel to check in, we'll have about thirty seconds to make it to the back door." Lucrezia whispers.
We dash through the darkened kitchen, past Ettore's spotless counters, and toward the service entrance. Lucrezia punches a code into the security panel, silencing the alarm before it can trigger.
"Go, go!" she hisses, pushing me through the door.
The night air hits my face as we race across the manicured lawn toward the garage's back entrance. Lucrezia's sleek black Audi sits waiting.
"Get in," she orders, sliding into the driver's seat.
I barely have time to close my door before she's speeding down the service road, headlights off, navigating purely by moonlight until we reach the main gate.
"Duck down," Lucrezia warns as she punches another code into a small remote. "The cameras will catch the car."
I slide down in my seat, heart thundering as the gates swing open and we slip into the night.
We abandon Lucrezia's Audi three blocks from a busy taxi stand, tucking the keys under the front seat.
"Daniel will find it within hours," she whispers as we walk away from the car. "But at least we'll have a head start."
My legs feel shaky beneath me as we approach the taxi stand. Every shadow looks like one of Damiano's men, every car that passes could be Byron's security detail. I keep my head down, hair falling forward to shield my face.
"Act normal," Lucrezia murmurs, looping her arm through mine like we're just two friends out for the night.
We slide into the first available taxi, and I give the driver an address four blocks from Scarlett's actual apartment.
"Are you okay?" I ask Lucrezia as the taxi pulls away, noticing her hands trembling in her lap.
"Damiano's going to kill me," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "I've never defied him like this."
"You can go back," I offer, though the thought of facing this alone terrifies me. "Tell them I forced you or—"
"No." She shakes her head firmly. "I need answers too. And Damiano wasn't going to listen to either of us right now."
We fall silent as the city lights flash by, both scanning the streets for any sign we're being followed. I keep checking backwards, my heart jumping each time headlights appear behind us.
When we finally reach our drop-off point, Lucrezia throws cash at the driver and we hurry through side streets and alleyways until we reach Scarlett's building.
"Fifth floor," I tell Lucrezia as we take the stairs instead of the elevator. By the time we reach Scarlett's door, we're both breathing hard.
I knock three times, then twice more—our signal since college.
The door swings open, and Scarlett stands there in sweatpants and a hospital scrub top, her red hair piled messily on top of her head. Her eyes widen as she takes in my disheveled appearance and Lucrezia standing nervously behind me.
"Oh my God," she breathes.
"Can we come in?" I ask, my voice cracking.
She pulls me into her apartment, quickly checking the hallway before shutting and locking the door behind us.
"What happened?" she demands, but before I can answer, she's pulling me into a fierce hug.
The moment her arms wrap around me, something breaks inside. Tears I've been holding back since Damiano confronted me spill over, and I'm sobbing against her shoulder.
"I've missed you so much," I choke out between sobs.
"I've been worried sick," Scarlett says, her own voice thick with tears.
We cling to each other like lifelines while Lucrezia stands awkwardly to the side, arms wrapped protectively around herself.
I slam the front door behind me, my rage still boiling just below the surface. Enzo and Alessio follow close behind, neither saying a word. They know better than to speak when I'm like this.
"Ginerva!" I call out, my voice echoing through the foyer.
The older woman appears almost instantly, her eyes widening slightly at whatever she sees on my face.
"Tell Lucrezia to meet me in my office. Now." The words come out sharp, clipped.
"Yes, Don Feretti," she says, hurrying away with quick, efficient steps.
I stalk toward my office, Enzo and Alessio still trailing me like shadows.
"You should calm down before speaking to Lucrezia," Enzo suggests quietly.
I whirl on him. "Don't tell me to calm down. Not now."
"We don't know if Lucrezia knows anything."
"We'll find out soon enough," I mutter, pushing open my office door.
I pour myself a whiskey while we wait, downing it in one burning swallow. The alcohol does nothing to dull the betrayal cutting through me.
The minutes stretch on. I pace the room, checking my watch repeatedly.
"What the fuck is taking so long?" I snap.
As if summoned by my words, Ginerva appears in the doorway, her normally composed face showing clear distress.
"I cannot find Signorina Lucrezia anywhere in the house, Don Feretti," she says, wringing her hands. "I've checked her bedroom, the studio, the kitchen..."
"What do you mean you can't find her?" My voice drops dangerously low.
Before Ginerva can answer, heavy footsteps sound in the hallway. Samuel appears, his face flushed, breathing hard.
"What the hell is going on?" I demand, advancing toward him.
Samuel straightens, his expression shifting from confusion to alarm as he registers the tension in the room. "Don Feretti, I—"
"Where were you supposed to be right now?" Alessio cuts in, his voice deadly calm.
"Guarding the prisoner, sir," Samuel admits, swallowing hard. "But Mrs Lucrezia came down in a state. Said she heard noises from the garage area, something about intruders. She insisted I check immediately."
"And you left your post?" Alessio's question sounds almost conversational, which makes it all the more terrifying.
"Only for a few minutes," Samuel rushes to explain. "I wasn't gone long, so they can't have—"
"They?" The single word falls from my lips like a stone.
Samuel's eyes widen as he realizes his mistake. "I went back and the cell was empty. Both Mrs Lucrezia and Mrs. Feretti were gone."
The room goes absolutely silent.
"How long ago?" I ask, each word precise and measured.
"Twenty minutes, maybe less," Samuel answers. "They can't be far."