Married To The Devil I Hate

Chapter 19

The morning sun rises, but the light doesn't reach the dark, heavy stone of the De Santis estate.

Inside the master suite, the room is quiet. I sit on the edge of the large bed, staring down at my hands. Just yesterday, I stood in a church and watched my father get dragged away. I thought it was over. I thought the nightmare of my father was finally dead and buried.

I was wrong.

My father is gone. Right after the shootout at the cathedral, while Marco was dragging my bleeding father out to the car, my father fought back like a cornered animal. He slammed his good elbow into Marco’s ribs, kicked him hard in the knee, and broke away. Before our guards could react, Vincenzo vanished into the dark service tunnels beneath the church, running away like a coward into the Chicago streets.

And now, a cornered rat doesn't need teeth to bite. He has something much more dangerous.

The door opens quietly, and Luca walks into the room. He looks exhausted. He dark circles under his eyes show he hasn't slept a wink. He holds a manila folder in his hand, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle twitches in his cheek.

"What is it?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. I stand up, walking over to him.

Luca stops a foot away from me. He doesn't pull me into his arms like he usually does. Instead, he holds out the folder, letting it drop onto the dresser like a dead weight.

"Your father played his final, pathetic card," Luca says, his voice dangerously low.

"He ran straight to the federal government."

My stomach drops into a cold, heavy pit. "The feds?"

"An hour ago, a federal prosecutor in downtown Chicago received an anonymous package," Luca explains, his eyes burning into mine. "Inside are the digital financial records, encrypted radio transcripts, and satellite logs from the raid on The red Room. Hard proof of arson, destruction of property, and millions in illegal cash."

"Can your lawyers buy them off?" I ask quickly, panic starting to prickle at the back of my neck. "Can we bury it?"

"We can stall it," Luca snaps, his frustration finally breaking through his control. "I have judges in my pocket, and I have high-priced lawyers ready to file motions for the next six months. But that's not the worst part, Sophia."

He reaches out, tapping his finger hard against the cover of the manila folder.

"Vincenzo made sure your name is written all over these files," Luca says, his voice shaking with suppressed rage. "He didn't just give them proof of the raid. He included the audio recording of your voice from the room speaker. He named you as the mastermind. He told the FBI that you were the exact person who gave the order to burn the vault down."

The room starts to spin.

For a second, I can't breathe. I walk back toward the edge of the bed and sit down heavily, my hands gripping the sheets.

"They are coming for me," I whisper, looking up at Luca with wide eyes.

In two long strides, Luca is kneeling on the floor in front of me. His warm hands wrap firmly around my cold fingers, pulling my hands away from my face. He forces me to look at him.

"Listen to me," Luca says.

"The feds are not touching you. Not while I am breathing. I built this empire to keep people out, and I will tear down every federal building in this damn city before I let them put cuffs on my wife."

"Luca, be realistic," I say, my voice shaking.

"You can't shoot the FBI. If they issue a warrant—"

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

A sharp, security alert sounds from the wall panel near the door.

Luca stands up slowly, As he walks over to the window and pulls the curtain back an inch.

I stand up behind him, peering out over the front courtyard of the estate.

My heart stops.

Three large, black SUVs with tinted windows and bold federal seals on the doors are rolling slowly through our front gates. Behind them, two dark vans marked with government plates follow close behind. A dozen men in heavy tactical gear, wearing jackets that clearly say FBI in bright yellow letters, step out into the cold morning air, spreading out to secure the perimeter of the mansion.

They aren't hiding. They aren't waiting for a court date. They are here right now.

"Damn it," Luca curses under his breath, his hand sliding inside his suit jacket to grip the handle of his hidden gun.

"Boss!"

The bedroom door flies open, and Marco bursts into the room, breathing hard. He has a nasty bruise forming on his jaw where my father hit him.

"We got company," Marco reports, his dark eyes wide with anger. "Federal agents at the front gate. They have a federal search and seizure warrant signed by a federal judge. And they brought local police backup to seal the streets."

"How the hell did they get a judge to sign a warrant this fast?" Luca demands, his voice a lethal growl.

"Vincenzo used his old political connections in Washington," Marco says grimly, rubbing his jaw. "He traded whatever dirt he had left to fast-track the paperwork before our judges could block it."

Luca turns around, looking between Marco and me. His mind is moving a million miles a minute, calculating every single move like a chess master trapped in a corner.

"Marco, get the secure hard drives out of the basement wall," Luca barks out orders with lightning speed. "Burn any physical ledgers that connect the Romano territories to our accounts. I want this house completely clean in five minutes."

"On it, Boss," Marco nods, turning and rushing out of the room.

Luca turns back to me. He reaches out, taking my face in his warm hands. His eyes are so intense it feels like they are burning right through me.

"Sophia, go to the private panic room behind the walk-in closet," Luca commands, his voice dropping into a desperate, pleading tone.

"Stay there until I tell you it's safe. I will handle the feds at the front door."

"No," I say, pulling my face back just an inch.

Luca blinks in surprise. "Sophia, this is the FBI. You cannot be out here when they walk through these doors. If they see you—"

"If they see me hiding like a coward, they win," I interrupt, my voice rumbling with a steady, fierce strength that cuts through his panic.

I look down at my clothes. I'm wearing a simple black dress.

My father wanted to destroy me. He wanted to throw me to the wolves and watch the federal government lock me away in a concrete box for the rest of my life.

I am not going to hide from him anymore. And I am not going to hide from the government he manipulated.

"My father thinks he can use the law to take me down," I say, a cold, hard fire waking up deep inside my chest. "He thinks I'm just a frightened little girl who will break the second a federal agent asks her a question."

Luca stares at me, his mouth slightly parted. The shock on his face slowly melts away, replaced by a dark, overwhelming wave of pride and fierce, unhinged worship.

"You are something else, do you know that?" Luca breathes out, a rough, dark laugh escaping his lips. "You really are my f*****g Queen."

Before Luca can say anything else, a loud, heavy slamming sound echoes from the downstairs foyer.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"FBI! Open the door! Federal warrant!" a harsh voice shouts from downstairs, followed by the sound of heavy boots marching across the floor.

They didn't wait for us to answer. They just kicked the front doors in.

"They're inside," Marco’s voice crackles over the small radio on Luca’s belt. "Boss, they're pushing through the ground floor."

Luca's eyes lock onto mine one last time. He reaches into his jacket, pulls out a small, sleek black backup pistol, and presses it firmly into my hand, curling my fingers around the cold metal grip.

"If anyone tries to put cuffs on you," Luca whispers fiercely, his voice deadly serious, "you shoot them. I don't give a damn if it's the Director of the FBI. You protect yourself, and I will handle the rest."

I look down at the heavy gun in my hand, and then up into Luca's unyielding blue eyes. A strange, wild thrill rushes through my veins.

"I'm ready," I say.

Luca steps in front of me, his body acting as an iron wall, as the heavy footsteps of federal agents finally march down the long hallway toward our bedroom door.