Chapter 10 - The Black Widow
"It appears your override was successful, Casey, but your mafia protector has failed," Thorne sneered, stepping over Dominic's bleeding body.
I did not think; I simply raised the small pistol Dominic had given me and aimed it directly at my mentor.
I pulled the trigger twice, the loud cracks echoing through the hallway as Thorne collapsed backward onto the marble floor.
I dropped the gun and rushed to Dominic's side, pressing my hands desperately against his bleeding stomach.
"You stopped the wipe," Dominic coughed, a weak smile breaking through his immense pain.
His backup security team stormed into the building moments later, securing the perimeter and rushing a trauma medic to our side.
They loaded Dominic onto a stretcher, assuring me that the bullet had missed his vital organs and he would survive.
As the cartel cleaners began scrubbing the crime scene, Dominic's second-in-command handed me a heavy leather briefcase.
"Mr. Russo said if you succeeded, this is your payment," the man told me respectfully.
I opened the case to find it packed entirely with banded stacks of hundred-dollar bills, easily totaling millions.
"You are free to go, Miss Miller, your debt is paid in full," he promised, stepping back into the shadows.
I walked out of the university as the sun began to rise over the city, feeling completely exhausted but victorious.
I had survived a mafia war, outsmarted a corrupt professor, and secured total financial freedom for my mother's future.
I hailed a taxi and rode straight to Columbia Presbyterian Hospital to celebrate the incredible news with the woman I loved most.
I walked into her private recovery suite, carrying the briefcase and a bright bouquet of fresh flowers.
"I am so glad you are safe, my sweet girl," my mother said softly, turning away from the window.
I hugged her tightly, crying tears of joy as I told her that the medical bills were paid and we were finally completely free.
She smiled gently, her posture shifting from that of a fragile patient to someone entirely different.
Suddenly, my dying mother sat up perfectly straight, completely devoid of any pain or weakness.
"Eigentumsrecht ist eine Illusion," she whispered fluently in the exact 1947 German dialect I had been translating all week.
May you like
She looked at me with cold, calculating eyes that I absolutely did not recognize.
"Dominic Russo just did exactly what I needed him to do," my mother smiled, pulling a heavy Volkov syndicate signet ring from beneath her hospital pillow.
