Chapter 7 - Sunday Came With FireSunday arrived quietly.
That was the first warning.
No threatening calls.
No suspicious vehicles.
No movement from Barzini’s known crews.
By noon, Dominic had doubled security anyway.
By 3:00, the estate resembled a military installation.
Norah hated it.
She moved through Salvatore’s afternoon routine while armed guards stood outside the bedroom.
“Your blood pressure is up.”
Salvatore grunted.
“Mine too.”
Norah adjusted his medication.
“Apparently family bonding is unhealthy.”
Salvatore’s eye shifted toward her.
Norah had not called him Dad.
She did not know whether she ever would.
But she had stopped calling him Mr. Moretti.
That was something.
At 4:17, the power went out.
Every light died.
The medical equipment switched to battery.
Norah froze.
Salvatore’s eye sharpened.
Then the emergency generator started.
Lights returned.
The intercom crackled.
Frank’s voice.
“Electrical failure at the north transformer.”
Norah reached for her radio.
“Accident?”
“No confirmation.”
Salvatore tapped the bedrail.
Norah looked at him.
“I know.”
She checked the window.
Nothing.
At 4:23, the first explosion occurred.
Not at the mansion.
At the front gate.
The sound rolled across the estate.
Windows trembled.
Norah moved immediately.
She locked Salvatore’s wheelchair.
Grabbed the emergency medication bag.
“Safe room.”
Salvatore shook his head.
“Not negotiating.”
He grabbed her wrist.
Pointed toward the closet.
The revolver.
“No.”
His glare intensified.
Norah opened the floor compartment.
She removed the weapon.
Checked it.
Then placed it in her waistband.
“Happy?”
Salvatore nodded.
They reached the hallway.
Two guards surrounded them.
“Basement.”
One said.
Norah pushed the wheelchair toward the service elevator.
Gunfire erupted outside.
Then came another sound.
A helicopter.
Norah looked through the hallway window.
A dark helicopter crossed above the trees.
Too low.
One guard shouted into his radio.
The aircraft banked toward the western lawn.
Men began descending on ropes.
“Move!”
The guards pushed Norah forward.
The elevator doors opened.
Norah entered with Salvatore.
One guard followed.
The second remained outside.
Doors closed.
They descended.
Then stopped.
Between floors.
The lights flickered.
Norah looked up.
“No.”
The elevator died.
The guard swore.
Norah pressed the emergency button.
Nothing.
Salvatore remained unnaturally calm.
“Backup?”
Norah asked.
The guard checked his radio.
Static.
Then a voice came through.
“Basement compromised.”
Frank.
“Repeat, basement compromised.”
The guard looked at Norah.
“Safe room is out.”
“Where?”
“East tunnel.”
Norah frowned.
“What tunnel?”
Salvatore tapped the wheelchair.
Of course there was a tunnel.
Mafia houses apparently came with secret exits.
The guard opened the elevator emergency panel.
They forced the doors apart.
They were halfway between the first floor and basement.
The guard climbed out.
Then helped Norah lift Salvatore.
The old man hated every second.
“Complain later.”
Norah whispered.
They reached the basement corridor.
Smoke drifted near the ceiling.
Somewhere nearby, automatic gunfire cracked.
The guard led them toward the wine cellar.
A hidden door stood open behind a shelving unit.
“Go.”
Norah pushed Salvatore inside.
The tunnel smelled of damp stone.
Emergency lights glowed along the floor.
They moved quickly.
Approximately 40 yards in, the guard stopped.
A figure stood ahead.
“Frank?”
No answer.
The guard raised his weapon.
The figure fired first.
Two shots.
The guard fell.
Norah screamed.
She pulled Salvatore behind a concrete support.
The attacker approached.
Norah reached for the revolver.
Her hand shook.
Not again.
She did not want to shoot anyone again.
The attacker came closer.
Salvatore grabbed the revolver from her waistband.
Norah turned.
“Don’t—”
His left hand trembled violently.
But his eye was steady.
The attacker rounded the corner.
Salvatore fired.
The first shot missed.
The second struck the attacker’s thigh.
He collapsed.
Norah lunged forward and kicked his weapon away.
The man reached toward his ankle.
Norah struck him with the medical bag.
Hard.
He stopped moving.
Salvatore looked at her.
Norah looked at him.
“Do not look proud.”
He absolutely looked proud.
Norah retrieved the attacker’s radio.
Voices.
Barzini’s men.
Then Dominic.
Different frequency.
Weak.
“Norah.”
She froze.
“Dominic?”
Static.
“Where are you?”
“East tunnel.”
His voice returned.
“Do not exit.”
“Why?”
“Barzini knows the route.”
Of course he did.
Norah looked toward Salvatore.
The old man’s expression darkened.
Someone from the old generation had provided everything.
Layouts.
Security systems.
Tunnels.
The past was attacking them physically.
“We can’t stay.”
Norah said.
The injured attacker began groaning.
She searched him.
Phone.
Knife.
Extra magazine.
Then something else.
A detonator.
Norah stared.
Wires ran from a small receiver attached to his vest.
Not a bomb.
Remote control.
She looked down the tunnel.
“Dominic.”
“What?”
“They’re rigging the tunnel.”
Silence.
Then Dominic’s voice sharpened.
“Get out now.”
Norah pushed Salvatore.
They moved.
Behind them, the injured attacker reached for the detonator.
Salvatore saw him.
He pointed.
Norah turned.
The man pressed the switch.
Nothing happened.
He stared at it.
Norah did too.
Then she saw the battery compartment.
Empty.
The battery lay on the ground where the medical bag had struck him.
Norah laughed.
Almost hysterically.
“Sometimes nursing works.”
They continued.
The tunnel split.
Salvatore pointed left.
Norah followed.
They reached an old steel door.
Locked.
Salvatore pointed toward a keypad.
“Code?”
He struggled.
Norah held up numbers.
He nodded.
The door opened.
They emerged inside an abandoned greenhouse beyond the eastern woods.
Dominic was waiting.
He had blood on his shoulder.
Norah abandoned the wheelchair and ran to him.
“What happened?”
“Grazed.”
She pulled his jacket open.
“Sit.”
“Norah—”
“Sit.”
He sat.
Frank stood nearby with six armed men.
The mansion burned faintly in the distance near the western wing.
Norah cleaned Dominic’s wound.
“It’s superficial.”
“I told you.”
“Congratulations.”
She wrapped it.
“You correctly diagnosed yourself once.”
Dominic looked toward Salvatore.
“You okay?”
The old man lifted the revolver.
Dominic stared.
Norah sighed.
“He shot someone.”
Dominic looked genuinely impressed.
Salvatore appeared smug.
“Don’t encourage him.”
Frank received a radio transmission.
His face changed.
“We found Barzini.”
Dominic stood.
“Where?”
“Inside the mansion.”
Norah frowned.
“He went inside personally?”
Frank nodded.
“He’s in your father’s study.”
Salvatore’s face became stone.
Dominic checked his weapon.
Norah grabbed his arm.
“No.”
“He came into my house.”
“That’s what he wants.”
Dominic looked at her.
“He wants you angry.”
Norah pointed toward the burning wing.
“He wants you walking directly toward him.”
Frank spoke.
“She’s right.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
Norah looked at Salvatore.
“Why the study?”
The old man’s expression changed.
Norah understood.
“The archives.”
Dominic swore.
Barzini was not there to kill them.
He wanted the Moretti records.
Names.
Accounts.
Politicians.
Judges.
Police.
Decades of leverage.
If Barzini obtained them, he would control half the criminal structure of the Northeast.
“We burn them.”
Norah said.
Dominic looked at her.
“What?”
“The archives.”
“They’re worth hundreds of millions.”
“That’s why he wants them.”
Dominic stared.
Norah continued.
“You said your father built everything on fear.”
She looked toward Salvatore.
“Then stop inheriting it.”
Salvatore’s eye narrowed.
For a moment, Norah expected rage.
Then the old man looked toward the mansion.
Toward decades of secrets.
His empire.
His life.
Slowly, he nodded.
Dominic stared at him.
“You’re sure?”
Salvatore nodded again.
Dominic took the radio.
“Frank.”
“Yeah.”
“Tell the men to evacuate the eastern wing.”
Frank looked at him.
“Then?”
“Burn the archive.”
Frank smiled grimly.
“With pleasure.”
Twenty minutes later, flames consumed the eastern side of the Moretti estate.
Barzini escaped through a window.
But he left without the records.
Without Salvatore.
Without Norah.
Without victory.
By midnight, firefighters controlled the blaze.
The mansion survived.
Barely.
Norah stood on the lawn wrapped in Dominic’s coat.
Salvatore sat beside her in his wheelchair.
Dominic approached.
“The archive is gone.”
Norah nodded.
“Good.”
“My father spent 50 years building those files.”
Salvatore looked at the flames.
Then reached for Norah’s hand.
Dominic watched.
Norah squeezed the old man’s fingers.
“Maybe it was time.”
Dominic stood beside them.
Three people.
A dying king.
His hidden daughter.
And the son who had inherited an empire he no longer seemed certain he wanted.
Behind them, the mansion smoldered.
Ahead of them, somewhere beyond the darkness, Barzini remained alive.
The war was not over.
May you like
But for the first time, the Morettis had destroyed part of their own power rather than sacrifice someone they loved to preserve it.
And that changed the rules.
