Chapter 9 - THE WEDDING WHERE NOBODY PLANNED TO SAY “I DO”
The federal badges were real.
The men carrying them were not.
Marco knew immediately.
One badge belonged to an agent who retired three years earlier.
He shoved Chloe and Tommy toward the bedroom.
“Fire escape.”
Gunfire tore through the apartment door.
Marco fired back.
Glass shattered.
Chloe grabbed Tommy.
“Move!”
They climbed onto the rear landing.
Two security men waited below.
One fell before Chloe could reach him.
Sniper.
Marco shouted from inside.
“Other side!”
There was no other side.
Tommy looked down three floors.
“I can make it.”
“You can barely climb stairs.”
“Great time for encouragement.”
A black SUV screeched into the alley.
Mrs. Gable leaned from the passenger window.
“Get in!”
Chloe stared.
“Mrs. Gable?”
“NOW!”
They dropped one level by fire stairs.
Marco joined them.
Bullets struck brick.
The SUV sped away.
Mrs. Gable turned around.
“Is everyone intact?”
Tommy looked at a bullet hole in the rear windshield.
“Define intact.”
Chloe grabbed Marco’s sleeve.
“The drive.”
“What about it?”
“If Victor didn’t send it, who did?”
Marco’s face hardened.
“Somebody wanted you to know about the wedding.”
“Why?”
“So you’d go.”
Silence.
A trap inside a trap.
Victor learned of the attack twelve minutes later.
He called Chloe.
She answered.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Tommy?”
“Complaining.”
“I’m fine!” Tommy shouted.
Victor exhaled.
“Listen carefully. Do not come to the wedding.”
Chloe laughed.
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“Someone sent me a fake message specifically telling me enough truth to make me want to attend.”
Victor went silent.
“Marco thinks they want me there.”
“Then you’re definitely not coming.”
“Why would Grant want me at your wedding?”
Victor understood.
He closed his eyes.
“To make me choose.”
“Between what?”
“The operation and you.”
Chloe’s stomach dropped.
Victor continued.
“He’ll expose himself only if he knows I’ll act irrationally.”
“Will you?”
“Yes.”
The honesty terrified her.
“Victor.”
“If anyone puts a gun to your head, I will burn every plan we have.”
“That’s exactly what he’s counting on.”
“I know.”
“So maybe we use it.”
“No.”
“Victor.”
“No.”
“Let me be bait.”
The line went silent enough that she thought it disconnected.
Finally Victor said, “I would rather marry Francesca for real.”
Chloe almost laughed.
“Does she know that?”
Francesca’s voice came faintly through his end.
“I object.”
Despite everything, Chloe laughed.
Victor did not.
“You’re staying away.”
Chloe looked at Marco.
He shook his head.
She sighed.
“Fine.”
Victor knew immediately.
“You’re lying.”
“Goodbye, Victor.”
“Chloe—”
She hung up.
The fake wedding took place at the Grand Marlowe Hotel.
Three hundred invited guests.
Business leaders.
Political donors.
Society reporters.
Enough armed security hidden among them to invade a small country.
Francesca DeLuca wore white.
She looked furious about it.
Victor waited near the ballroom entrance in a tuxedo.
“You look like you’re attending a funeral,” she said.
“I may be.”
“Reassuring.”
Salvatore adjusted his cuffs.
“Grant accepted?”
Marco nodded.
“He’s here.”
Victor scanned the room.
Senator Michael Grant entered smiling.
Silver-haired.
Confident.
American flag pin on his lapel.
A man who had built an entire public career around law, family values, and fighting corruption.
Victor hated hypocrisy more than ordinary evil.
Grant approached.
“Victor.”
“Senator.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
Grant kissed Francesca’s hand.
“A beautiful bride.”
Francesca smiled.
“Enjoy the evening, Senator.”
Her tone suggested he should not expect many more.
The ceremony began.
Victor stood beneath chandeliers beside Francesca.
A judge with known ties to Salvatore officiated.
Cameras flashed.
Grant sat in the second row.
Everything moved according to plan.
Until Chloe entered.
Victor saw her instantly.
At the back of the ballroom.
Black dress.
Marco beside her.
Tommy nowhere in sight.
Safe.
Hopefully.
Victor’s jaw tightened.
Chloe smiled faintly.
He looked at Marco.
Marco shrugged.
Victor considered murdering his best friend after the ceremony.
The officiant continued.
“If anyone has cause—”
Every light went out.
Victor reached for Francesca.
Gunfire erupted from the balcony.
Guests screamed.
Security moved.
Emergency lights switched on.
Grant was gone.
Victor looked toward the back.
Chloe was gone too.
“No.”
Marco shouted, “Victor!”
But he was already running.
A side corridor.
One fallen guard.
Service elevator descending.
Victor took the stairs.
Eight floors.
Seven.
His wound screamed.
He ignored it.
Parking garage.
A black sedan accelerated toward the exit.
Victor fired at a tire.
Missed.
Marco’s SUV crashed through a security arm.
They pursued.
Grant’s convoy split.
Three cars.
Marco asked, “Which?”
Victor stared.
Then saw a small hand press briefly against the rear window of the center car.
Chloe.
“Middle.”
The chase tore through downtown Chicago.
Snow began falling.
Victor’s SUV slammed the sedan near Lower Wacker Drive.
Vehicles spun.
Grant’s men emerged shooting.
Marco returned fire.
Victor moved toward the sedan.
The rear door opened.
Chloe stepped out.
Gun against her neck.
Luca behind her.
Victor froze.
His brother smiled.
“There he is.”
Grant stepped from another vehicle.
No cameras now.
No flag pin.
No pleasant smile.
Just the man underneath.
“Drop the weapon, Victor.”
Victor did.
Luca laughed.
“Love really did make you stupid.”
Victor’s eyes stayed on Chloe.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Tommy?”
“Safe.”
“Good.”
Luca pressed the weapon harder.
“Touching.”
Grant approached.
“You have something that belongs to me.”
Victor knew.
“Pierce files.”
“Yes.”
“Already copied.”
Grant smiled.
“Then I suppose we need to discuss where.”
Victor shrugged.
“Every major newspaper.”
Grant’s smile vanished.
“Lie.”
“Maybe.”
Chloe suddenly said, “He’s not lying.”
Everyone looked at her.
She continued.
“I uploaded them before coming.”
Victor stared.
“You did what?”
“Remember the part about not deciding what I can handle?”
“This is an aggressively bad time to prove a point.”
Grant’s phone began ringing.
Then Luca’s.
Then Marco’s.
Victor smiled.
Grant answered.
His face drained.
News alerts.
Documents had been sent simultaneously to newspapers, federal inspectors, state prosecutors, and multiple foreign servers.
Chloe had built the distribution system using Tommy’s help.
Grant looked at her.
“You stupid little girl.”
Chloe smiled.
“My father was an accountant.”
Grant raised his weapon.
Victor moved.
Luca fired.
The bullet struck Grant.
Not Chloe.
Everyone froze.
Grant collapsed.
Luca stared at his gun.
Victor stared at his brother.
“You shot him.”
Luca laughed.
“He was finished anyway.”
Grant gasped on the pavement.
“You…”
Luca fired again.
This time Marco shot Luca’s weapon from his hand.
Victor tackled his brother.
They hit concrete.
Eleven years of rage exploded.
Victor punched Luca.
Once.
Twice.
Luca laughed through blood.
“Do it.”
Victor stopped.
“Kill me.”
Victor’s fist hovered.
Luca smiled.
“Prove you’re Father’s son.”
Victor stared.
Then slowly lowered his hand.
“No.”
Luca’s smile faded.
Victor stood.
“I’ve spent half my life becoming men I hated because I thought that was survival.”
Police sirens approached.
Victor looked at Chloe.
“No more.”
Luca suddenly pulled a knife from his sleeve.
Chloe screamed.
He lunged.
Victor turned.
A gunshot cracked.
Luca stopped.
Looked down.
Blood spread across his chest.
Francesca stood twenty feet away holding a pistol.
Her white wedding dress was covered in mud.
Everyone stared.
She lowered the weapon.
“I really hated this dress.”
Luca collapsed.
Alive.
Barely.
Police arrived seconds later.
Grant was transported under guard.
Luca too.
For once, Victor did not interfere.
He let the law take them.
Because Chloe was watching.
Because maybe there was another way.
Maybe.
Hours later, they sat in the back of an ambulance.
Victor had reopened his side wound.
Chloe had bruises around her wrist.
Francesca had stolen Marco’s coat over her wedding dress.
Salvatore was yelling at someone on the phone.
Victor looked at Chloe.
“You came.”
“Yes.”
“I told you not to.”
“I remember.”
“You uploaded federal evidence.”
“Yes.”
“You used yourself as bait.”
“Technically.”
Victor stared.
“You are impossible.”
Chloe smiled.
“Now you know how everyone feels around you.”
He laughed.
Then winced.
She touched his side.
“Careful.”
Victor’s expression changed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No. That face.”
“What face?”
“The one where you’re thinking something terrifyingly permanent.”
Victor looked at her.
“Chloe Bennett.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Do not propose to me in an ambulance after your fake wedding.”
Victor closed his mouth.
Francesca laughed from the other side.
“I like her.”
Chloe smiled.
Victor sighed.
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“I won’t ask.”
“Good.”
“Tonight.”
Her head snapped toward him.
“Victor.”
He smiled.
Outside, camera crews surrounded Grant’s ambulance.
News alerts flashed.
Senator Michael Grant implicated in massive corruption scheme.
Federal raids had already begun.
Crown Exchange was collapsing.
Luca Russo was alive.
Under arrest.
Victor was free.
For the first time in years, the future looked uncertain.
Victor had always hated uncertainty.
Now Chloe was sitting beside him.
And somehow uncertainty no longer felt like danger.
It felt like possibility.
Then Marco approached the ambulance.
His expression ruined everything.
“Victor.”
“What?”
“Tommy’s doctor called.”
Chloe went white.
“What happened?”
Marco looked at her.
“They found a kidney donor.”
Her hands flew to her mouth.
“But there’s a problem.”
Victor stood despite the medic protesting.
“What problem?”
Marco swallowed.
May you like
“The donor is Luca Russo.”
And Luca had signed the consent paperwork before the wedding.
