Chapter 17 - BIANCA’S LAST MOVE
Mara did not go alone.
She simply made Bianca believe she did.
The greenhouse stood on an abandoned Thorne estate forty miles outside Chicago.
Its glass roof had collapsed in several places.
Dead vines curled around rusted iron frames.
Rain dripped through broken panes.
Mara entered at 11:58 p.m.
Luca’s security team remained outside the perimeter.
Federal agents waited farther back.
Mara carried Victoria’s photograph inside her coat.
Bianca appeared between rows of dead plants.
Her hair was wet.
Her clothes were dirty.
Nothing remained of the senator’s perfect daughter except the posture.
Even exhausted, Bianca stood like someone waiting for a room to obey her.
“You came.”
“Where is Preston?”
Bianca pointed.
He sat tied to a chair near the rear wall.
His mouth was taped.
He looked bruised but conscious.
Mara stepped forward.
Bianca raised a handgun.
“Stop.”
Mara froze.
“Put it down.”
“No.”
“Mara.”
“No.”
Her voice was steady.
“If you want the photograph, you let Preston go.”
Bianca laughed.
“You still think you’re negotiating.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you asked me to bring something instead of simply shooting me.”
Bianca’s smile vanished.
Mara continued.
“You want answers.”
Bianca’s hand trembled.
“I already have answers.”
“No.”
Mara slowly removed the photograph.
“You have pieces.”
Bianca stared at her mother’s face.
For the first time, anger cracked.
Pain appeared underneath.
“She loved me?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t know that.”
“My mother did.”
“Your mother lied.”
“My mother created a trust for you.”
Bianca’s breathing changed.
“She stole it.”
“Your father stole it.”
“Shut up.”
“We have the documents.”
“Shut up.”
“He forged your mother’s signature.”
Bianca raised the gun higher.
Mara did not move.
“Eleanor spent years protecting money meant to help your mother escape.”
Tears filled Bianca’s eyes.
“You think that excuses you?”
“For what?”
“For taking everything.”
“I never took anything from you.”
“Preston.”
Mara stared.
“Preston was not something either of us could own.”
Bianca looked toward him.
He closed his eyes.
Mara continued.
“You wanted him because he loved someone else.”
Bianca’s face twisted.
“And you loved having him love you.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Bianca stepped closer.
“You always looked at me like you were better.”
“I looked at you like I was trying to survive you.”
The gun trembled.
Mara’s heart raced.
“Your father made you believe cruelty was strength.”
“Do not talk about my father.”
“He lied to you.”
“I know.”
The words exploded out of Bianca.
Mara stopped.
Bianca began crying.
“I know.”
Her shoulders shook.
“He killed her.”
Mara stared.
“What?”
Bianca laughed through tears.
“I found his files.”
“Bianca.”
“He kept everything.”
Her voice dropped.
“Medical records.”
“Victoria’s?”
“And Eleanor’s.”
Mara’s blood turned cold.
“Where?”
Bianca looked at her.
“You want them?”
“Yes.”
“Of course.”
“This isn’t about winning.”
“It’s always about winning.”
“No.”
Mara stepped closer.
“This is about our mothers.”
Bianca’s face crumpled.
For one second, she looked twenty years younger.
A little girl in a mansion full of lies.
Then headlights flashed beyond the broken glass.
Bianca spun.
“You brought them.”
“Bianca.”
“You lied.”
“I came inside alone.”
“You brought Luca.”
“Yes.”
Rage returned.
“You always need someone to save you.”
Mara touched her stomach.
“No.”
She looked directly at Bianca.
“I learned to save myself.”
Bianca swung the gun toward Preston.
Mara moved instinctively.
A shot cracked through the greenhouse.
Glass shattered.
Preston screamed against the tape.
Mara fell.
Outside, Luca heard the shot.
He ran.
Inside, Bianca stared at Mara on the floor.
Then at the handgun in her own shaking hand.
Mara slowly lifted her head.
The bullet had struck the metal table behind her.
She was alive.
Bianca seemed almost relieved.
That hesitation ended everything.
Mara kicked the gun away.
Preston threw himself sideways in the chair.
Bianca lunged for the weapon.
Mara grabbed her wrist.
The two women struggled across the wet concrete.
Bianca screamed.
“You ruined my life!”
Mara held on.
“No.”
She forced Bianca’s hand away from the gun.
“Your father did.”
Federal agents rushed through the doors.
Bianca froze.
Mara looked into her eyes.
“And then you chose what to become.”
Bianca stopped fighting.
The agents pulled her away.
Luca reached Mara seconds later.
His hands checked her shoulders, face, stomach.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“The baby?”
A kick moved beneath Mara’s hand.
She laughed shakily.
“Angry.”
Luca closed his eyes in relief.
Across the greenhouse, Bianca was being handcuffed.
She looked toward Mara one last time.
Then she whispered something.
“My father has the medical files.”
Mara stood.
“Where?”
Bianca gave a broken smile.
“In the place he thinks nobody will ever search.”
“Where?”
Bianca looked at the ruined greenhouse around them.
May you like
Then at Mara.
“His Senate office.”
