Chapter 13 - The Last Hunt
Samuel had made one mistake.
He returned the burned truck.
Fire had damaged it.
But not destroyed everything.
A technician found microscopic fibers trapped inside the wooden chassis.
Industrial insulation.
Rare.
Used at one property connected to Samuel.
An abandoned textile mill.
Vincent did not go alone.
He involved law enforcement.
No revenge.
No private execution.
Alina noticed the difference.
The Vincent she met eight months earlier might have handled Samuel personally.
The man standing beside her now understood that protecting a family sometimes meant coming home afterward.
The mill was surrounded.
Samuel was inside.
So was Voss’s remaining lieutenant.
Samuel called Vincent.
“Come in alone.”
“No.”
“You’ve gotten cautious.”
“I’ve gotten something to lose.”
Samuel laughed.
“You think the maid loves you?”
Vincent looked at Alina.
She heard the call.
Vincent answered simply.
“What she feels is her choice.”
Samuel went quiet.
Perhaps he could not understand that.
People like Samuel believed love was another form of possession.
Vincent no longer did.
Police entered.
Shots were fired.
Samuel tried escaping through a tunnel.
Cole anticipated it.
He waited at the exit.
Samuel emerged.
Saw Cole.
Raised a gun.
Cole fired once.
Samuel fell.
Alive.
This time there was no escape.
Federal officers handcuffed him.
Samuel looked at Vincent.
“Your father would be ashamed.”
Vincent stared at him.
“My father spent his life cleaning up after you.”
Samuel smiled bitterly.
“You’re still a Marchetti.”
Vincent looked toward Alina, Mia, Sofia, and Lucas waiting beyond the perimeter.
“Yes.”
Then he added:
“I get to decide what that means.”
Samuel was taken away.
The city changed quickly afterward.
Voss’s financial network collapsed.
Corrupt officials resigned.
Investigations opened.
Vincent began separating himself from the criminal operations inherited from older generations.
Legitimate companies remained.
The rest he dismantled.
It made enemies.
But it also created something he had never possessed.
A future he didn’t have to hide from his son.
Sofia chose not to resume her old relationship with Vincent.
They both understood too much time had passed.
But they became friends.
Parents.
Partners in rebuilding Lucas’s life.
Lucas stayed with Margaret until he felt ready to move.
Vincent visited every weekend.
He never demanded to be called Dad.
Three months later, Lucas did it accidentally.
“Dad, can you pass—”
He stopped.
Vincent froze.
Lucas looked embarrassed.
Vincent handed him the wrench they were using to repair a bicycle.
“Sure.”
Neither made a big deal of it.
Later, Vincent sat alone in his car for ten minutes and cried.
Alina pretended not to notice.
Mia did not.
She climbed inside.
“Why are you crying?”
Vincent wiped his face.
“Something good happened.”
“People cry for good?”
“Sometimes.”
Mia considered this.
Then cried dramatically.
Vincent stared.
“What are you doing?”
“I want good too.”
He laughed and hugged her.
The following week, Alina moved out of the staff apartment.
Not out of the estate.
Into a renovated cottage on the property.
She insisted on paying rent.
Vincent refused.
They argued.
Alina won.
Mostly.
She also stopped working as a maid.
Instead, she used part of Lucia’s inheritance to establish a housing fund for single parents facing eviction.
The first family moved into an apartment in November.
Alina stood outside afterward and cried.
Vincent held her hand.
“My mother would have liked this.”
“Yes.”
“You never met her.”
“No.”
Alina looked at him.
“Then how do you know?”
“Because she raised you.”
That stayed with her.
Their relationship grew slowly.
No dramatic declarations.
No ownership.
No rescue fantasy.
Alina had spent too many years depending on unreliable men.
Vincent understood that loving her meant respecting her independence.
Then, one December evening, Henry Bell called.
He had found one final document in Antonio’s archives.
Not about Samuel.
Not about Lucia.
About Vincent.
The document had been sealed until Samuel was permanently imprisoned.
Vincent opened it with Alina beside him.
It contained a list of names.
Politicians.
Businessmen.
Police officers.
Judges.
People who had secretly supported Samuel for decades.
Most were already under investigation.
One name was not.
Vincent stared.
Alina noticed.
“Who?”
Vincent looked toward the doorway.
Cole had just entered.
Vincent slowly turned the page toward him.
At the bottom was Cole’s full name.
Beside it, Antonio had written:
IF SAMUEL RETURNS, ADRIAN COLE MUST NEVER LEARN THE TRUTH ABOUT HIS FATHER.
May you like
Cole stopped breathing.
And Vincent opened the final sealed envelope.
