Chapter 7
I could hear Dominic’s roar echoing from the basement. The
sound was like that of a wounded beast, full of rage and despair.
I stood at the top of the stairs, listening to the screams below,
yet my heart remained strangely calm.
‘Finally, the last act.‘
The stone steps to the basement were narrow, each footfall
echoing with my soft steps. Candlelight cast dancing shadows on
the walls, the air thick with the scent of blood and desperation. I
could smell the acrid odor of red–hot metal–Dominic was using
his grandfather’s cross branding iron.
“Talk!” Dominic’s voice thundered like lightning, “Whose child
are you carrying!”
I hid behind a stone pillar in the wine cellar, watching it all
unfold. Isabella was bound to an ancient wine rack, her face
twisted with pain and terror. The branding iron had left a cross-
shaped mark on her forehead, the smell of burning flesh
nauseating.
“I’ll tell! I’ll tell everything! It’s Antonio, he forced me,” Isabella screamed, tears and sweat streaming down her cheeks.
Dominic let out a cold laugh, his voice dripping with mockery
and fury: “You killed my bloodline, and now you want to compensate with a bastard? You think I’d let Antonio’s spawn defile my family?”
He punched Isabella in the stomach. Her agonized scream echoed through the basement as her body curled up like a
shrimp.
I quietly turned and left the basement. I’d heard enough. Now it was time to clean up and prepare to leave.
While everyone in the house was distracted by the commotion downstairs, I quickly made my way to the master bedroom.
I opened the hidden drawer and retrieved my mother’s Virgin Mary necklace. The silver chain glinted in the candlelight, the Virgin’s face serene and compassionate. I caressed it gently,
warmth flooding my heart.
“Mother, I can finally take you away from this hell.”
Next was the safe. I knew the combination–our wedding date. Ironically, Dominic still didn’t know what that date truly meant to him. I withdrew the cash I’d been secretly saving over the years, along with the fake identity documents I’d prepared long
ago.
Everything was going according to plan.
Before leaving, I quietly approached Dominic’s study. The sounds from the basement had grown fainter. I left a final note on his desk, written with his favorite fountain pen:
“Dominic, the blood debt for three children has been paid. Your infertility, Isabella’s betrayal, Antonio’s death–this is justice. Don’t look for me. -The Valentina you will never see again”
I picked up the phone and dialed the orphanage. Father Patrick‘ s voice came through the receiver, gentle and concerned.
“Father Patrick, I need your help.” My voice sounded frightened and helpless, “What happened tonight… I’m scared. I need somewhere safe.“
“Valentina, what’s happened?” the priest asked with concern.
“Dominic… he’s gone mad. I’m terrified. I have to leave tonight- I need somewhere safe. Please, Father, I’m begging you.”
“Alright, child. You know the old place. May God bless you.”
The old place—the secret underground passage connecting the orphanage to the church. Few people knew of its existence.
At midnight, thunder began rolling across Philadelphia’s sky.
The storm arrived as expected, as if heaven itself was weeping
for tonight’s bloodshed. I changed into plain dark clothes, picked up a small suitcase, and quietly left the mansion that had
once been my prison.
Rain struck my face, ice–cold and piercing. But my heart had never burned hotter.
The orphanage’s back door stood open for me. Father Patrick
waited in the doorway, his face etched with worry. He was a good man, always trying to help those in need. If he knew the truth, I wondered if he would still help me like this.
“Valentina, are you sure about leaving this way?” he asked
softly.
I nodded, “Father, I’ve completed the mission God gave me.‘
He seemed about to say something, but finally just sighed: “May
God bless you in finding peace.”
“I already have.” I replied, “Now I’m going to seek a new
beginning.”
The underground passage was narrow but dry. The priest lit an oil lamp for me, its yellow glow casting long shadows on the
stone walls. As I walked through this tunnel, a strange feeling washed over me—like traveling through time and space, from one world to another.
A black car waited for me on the small road outside the church. The driver was arranged by the priest–an old man who didn’t ask questions. He took my suitcase and politely opened the door for me.
“Where to, ma’am?”
“Somewhere far from here.” I answered, “As far as possible.”
The car started up, slowly heading toward the highway through the rainy night. Through the rearview mirror, I took one last look at Philadelphia’s lights, those fires that had once illuminated my hellish days. Now they blurred together in the rainy night like a nightmare about to be forgotten.
I touched the Virgin Mary necklace now back around my neck, feeling its warmth and weight. This was the only thing my mother had left me, and now it was with me again.
“My children,” I whispered to the necklace, “Mommy has avenged you.”