Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rachel
The frantic pounding on my door yanked me awake. I bolted upright.
"Who is it?" I grabbed my robe and threw it on.
"Ma'am, it's Marco." The family's PR director's voice came through, breathless. "We've got a problem. A massive one."
I opened the door. Marco practically fell into the room, face slick with sweat and panic. He didn't say a word—just shoved his tablet at me.
My blood froze. The warehouse. Dim lighting. Matteo wiping blood from his hands. A figure barely moving behind him.
The video from the package. How the hell did it get out?
"What... what happened?"
"Someone leaked it to a dozen major outlets. It's been on the front page of the Times and CNN for three hours."
George and Luca burst in, their faces darker than I'd ever seen.
"It's not just the video, ma'am." George handed me a folder. "Farrell's people dumped five years of our financial records to the FBI. You know how we... anyway, the federal court's already opened a case."
"Gets worse." Luca held out his phone. Samantha's twisted face filled the screen.
"Someone pulled her out of that hellhole in Mexico. Now she's everywhere, crying about how you stole Matteo from their 'perfect engagement,' how you trapped him with your bastard daughter. This thing's got ten million views."
"They dug up Sea Breeze Diner, too." Luca's voice was rough. "People are calling for boycotts online. Saying your food tastes like blood money."
I watched the headlines multiply, the comments scrolling with venom. Farrell's revenge, the FBI investigation, Samantha's lies—this wasn't random. This was a coordinated strike designed to burn the Vitale family to the ground.
And I was ground zero.
"What about the stock?"
"What do you think?" George yanked at his tie. "Dropped like a stone at the opening bell. We've lost nearly three billion in market cap. Our European shipping partners are 'reassessing.' And those Ashford vultures still hanging around? They're feeding the press anything that'll stick."
"Where's Matteo?"
"Flying back from Rome," Luca answered. "He told us to keep you steady."
Keep me steady? No. I needed to fight.
I looked at George. "Get Matteo on the line. Now."
Ten minutes later, Matteo's hologram appeared at the conference table. His eyes were bloodshot—clearly hadn't slept.
"I know the situation." Straight to business. "George, activate crisis protocol. Luca, shut down every leak and tail those Ashford rats."
His eyes found mine, softened. "Rachel, stay at the estate. Don't go anywhere. Wait for me."
"No." I cut him off. "Matteo, I'm coming back to New York with you."
"Absolutely not. Too dangerous."
"What about you?" I met his stare. "If we lose this, you're going to federal prison."
"That's my problem."
"It's mine too." I stepped closer. "Matteo, I'm not the Rachel who runs scared anymore." My voice was steel. "We fight this together."
He looked at me for a long moment—struggle, worry, and finally, acceptance.
"Alright. Together."
I moved fast. First, Camilla's room.
"I'm leaving Sofia with you." I took her hand. "She's safest here."
Camilla squeezed my fingers. "Go do what you need to do. Sofia's mine."
Then Leona's room. She looked up as I entered.
"Rachel? Why are you dressed like that? Going somewhere?"
"Leona, I have to go back to New York." I sat down and gave her the short version.
"I'm coming with you! That bitch Samantha wants to lie? I'll testify! I'll tell everyone who really trashed Sea Breeze Diner! Who forced that goddamn loan on us! I'll make her choke on every word!"
"Listen to me." I held her shaking hands. "You're not strong enough yet. You can't take this. You're my best weapon—trust me on that."
"But—"
"Stay here. Rest. Be with Sofia. When I need you, I'll come get you."
That night, we gathered in the secret conference room beneath Vitale Group headquarters.
"Samantha's whole play is the victim card." I interrupted Marco's suggestion to go quiet. "If we just issue denials, we look like bullies. The only way is to rip off her victim mask and show everyone the viper underneath."
All eyes turned to me. Matteo drummed his fingers on the table.
"Keep going."
"I do an interview. Exclusive. The highest-rated morning show in America. We play every card we've got in one shot. Don't give her time to spin it."
"Do it."
NBC studios, Rockefeller Center.
I wore the Vitale sapphire on my finger and sat calmly before the cameras. The lights came up. The host looked at me with curious eyes and asked her first question.
I looked straight into the lens. First, I showed the DNA report. Then I raised my hand, letting the camera catch the ring.
"I'm Matteo Vitale's girlfriend. The mother of his daughter, Sofia Vitale. His mother, Camilla Vitale, put this ring on my finger herself."
"There was no legal engagement with Samantha Ashford. As for 'stealing him'—that's fiction."
"I'm not here to clear up gossip. I'm here to show you what jealousy looks like when it goes rabid."
I produced the notarized evidence. The studio went silent. The producers extended the broadcast. Within two hours, social media exploded. Young women flooded the network's accounts, calling Samantha's actions the vilest form of bullying.
Matteo's end went smoothly too. George's team found a fatal flaw in their books and countered, delivering Farrell's gun-running and drug-smuggling records—with witnesses—straight to federal court.
Two weeks later, the verdicts came down.
Every remaining Farrell got twenty-five years federal, no parole. Samantha was charged with falsifying evidence, defamation, and drug involvement. They sent her to the psychiatric ward of a federal women's prison. Life without parole.
The psych ward was quieter than I expected. Samantha came out in plain hospital clothes, her hair unstyled and shoulder-length. Nothing like the woman I remembered.
She saw me and froze. Then slowly sat across from me.
"What are you doing here? Gloating?"
I didn't answer. Just took a small box from my bag and pushed it across. She stared at it before opening it. Pearl earrings.
"These were my mother's..." Her voice cracked.
"I know. Matteo looked into her file. Isabella Ashford. Engaged to a Boston family, replaced at the altar because they found a better match."
Samantha's fingers tightened around the earrings, knuckles white.
"You investigated me?"
"I wanted to understand what kind of hate makes someone spend years destroying another person's life."
Silence.
"So you know everything." Samantha stared at the earrings. "You know why I had to marry Matteo. Not just because I loved him. Because if I didn't, I'd be the next Isabella."
She looked past me, eyes distant.
"Last time I saw her, she told me—'Samantha, remember, you're a person, not a thing.'" Tears fell. "But my whole life, everyone treated me like a thing. Something to trade. Something replaceable."
"Do you hate me?" she asked suddenly.
I thought about it. "I did. Not anymore."
"Why?"
"Because I know what it's like to be a bargaining chip. I just got lucky. He chose me."
Samantha stared at me, tears streaming silently. I stood. Visiting time was almost up.
"Keep the earrings."
I headed for the door.
As I reached it, a soft voice came from behind.
"Thank you."