The night everything changed, she had accompanied Catherine to a private shopping district owned by one of the Volkov affiliates. On their way back, armed men ambushed their car. They were failed businessmen ruined by one of the syndicate’s deals, desperate enough to kidnap Catherine and demand ransom from the Volkov family.
My mother did not hesitate.
An aging woman with no weapon to defend herself, she threw herself in front of Catherine when the car door was yanked open. The kidnappers had not expected resistance from someone like her. In their panic, one of them drew a knife.
She fought them with nothing but her bare hands and sheer will. She stalled them long enough for the Volkov bodyguards and police to arrive. Catherine was rescued unharmed. The kidnappers were captured.
My mother was the only one left bleeding on the pavement.
Catherine’s face had drained of all color. She knelt beside my mother, holding her hand, urging her to stay conscious while they waited for the ambulance. My mother understood that she would not survive. Even as her strength faded, she worried only about me.
She knew I had admired Vincent for years.