Chapter 6 - The Trap at the Docks
The scandal at the gala shook the underworld to its core. Gabriel Moretti had publicly claimed a former maid as his future bride and threatened to eradicate the Valenti bloodline for insulting her.
For Marco Valenti, this was the ultimate humiliation. He knew that if he did not act immediately, his reputation would be ruined, and his syndicate would be absorbed by Moretti’s forces.
"We strike tonight," Marco growled to his chief lieutenant in a hidden safehouse near the Brooklyn docks. "Gabriel has moved half his security detail to protect that maid’s old neighborhood—he’s paying off her mother's lingering debts and setting up a trust. The estate is vulnerable, but more importantly, she is vulnerable when she visits her old apartment."
"Boss, Gabriel will burn New York down if we touch her," the lieutenant warned.
"He won't get the chance," Marco snarled. "We snatch the maid. We force Gabriel to surrender his shipping licenses at the docks in exchange for her life. Once he signs the papers, we kill them both and throw them into the harbor."
Meanwhile, back at the estate, Emma was sitting in her lavish new suite, looking at a stack of documents Gabriel had left on her desk. They were the paid-in-full receipts for her late mother’s hospital bills, along with the title deed to a beautiful seaside cottage in Maine, registered entirely in her name.
Her heart ached with a profound, overwhelming love. No one had ever protected her like this. No one had ever seen her beauty, her worth, and her soul the way Gabriel did.
A quiet knock sounded at her door. It was Marcus, the head of estate security.
"Miss Emma," Marcus said respectfully. "Mr. Moretti requested that you visit the downtown legal office to finalize the guardianship papers for the children. The armored vehicle is ready."
"Thank you, Marcus. I'll be right down."
Emma wrapped a warm wool coat over her shoulders and headed down to the courtyard. She stepped into the back of the black armored SUV, driven by one of Gabriel’s long-time guards, Tommy.
As the vehicle pulled out of the grand gates and onto the highway, Emma noticed the route was strange. They weren't heading toward the financial district; they were turning toward the industrial shipping yards along the East River.
"Tommy?" Emma asked, leaning forward. "Isn't the legal office downtown?"
The driver didn't answer. He turned his head slightly, and Emma gasped.
It wasn't Tommy.
It was a man with a heavy scar across his face—one of Marco Valenti’s mercenaries.
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Before Emma could react or reach for the door handle, a man hidden in the far back cargo space lunged forward, pressing a rag soaked in chloroform over her nose and mouth.
Emma fought desperately, scratching at his arms, her full-figured strength surprising the attacker as she slammed her elbow into his ribs. But the sweet, chemical fumes quickly invaded her lungs. The world spun out of focus, the dark grey sky over the river dissolved, and darkness claimed her.
