Chapter 7 - THE CRYPT
At 2:31 Christmas morning, federal agents entered St. Gabriel's Cemetery.
I remained in the command vehicle because I had promised Agent Shaw.
Enzo hated it.
I hated it more.
But Lily had changed the mathematics of my life.
Before that night, risk had been something I calculated for myself.
Now every reckless decision had a little girl attached to the consequence.
Agents opened my father's crypt.
Behind the marble memorial plaque was a sealed steel compartment.
Inside sat the original ledger.
And a photograph.
Agent Shaw brought both to me.
The photograph showed my father with Vincent.
It had been taken months after Vincent's supposed death.
On the back, my father's handwriting read:
One son inherited my name. The other inherited my mistakes. God forgive me for both.
I stared at it.
My father had known.
Maybe he had protected Vincent.
Maybe he had created him.
It didn't matter anymore.
“What happens now?” I asked Shaw.
“We use the ledger.”
“To find Vincent?”
“If we're lucky.”
“And if you're not?”
“We wait.”
I thought about Lily.
“No.”
Shaw studied me.
“I know his weakness.”
“Which is?”
“He needs me to know he won.”
That was the difference between us.
I had spent years learning silence.
Vincent needed an audience.
We built a trap.
At 3:18, I called him.
“I have the ledger.”
“You always were obedient under pressure.”
“I want Sophia and Lily out of this permanently.”
“Then bring it to Pier 19.”
“Too exposed.”
He laughed.
“Still afraid?”
“No. Smarter.”
I gave him another location.
One of my abandoned warehouses in Red Hook.
Agent Shaw disliked the plan.
She liked the alternative less.
At 4:02, Vincent arrived.
I watched through a hidden camera.
Thirteen years disappeared.
He looked like my father.
Older than I remembered.
Scar along his jaw.
Gray at his temples.
But unmistakably Vincent.
He entered alone.
Or appeared to.
Agents had every exit covered.
I walked into the warehouse carrying a duplicate ledger.
Vincent smiled.
“Little brother.”
“Don't call me that.”
His smile widened.
“You've become serious.”
“You tried to murder the mother of my child.”
“Technically Carlo handled that.”
“You paid him.”
“Father taught us delegation.”
I wanted to hit him.
Instead, I remembered Lily's arms around my neck.
I stayed still.
Vincent noticed.
“You've changed.”
“Yes.”
“Because of a child?”
“Because I finally understand what this family costs.”
His expression hardened.
“You sound weak.”
“You sound like Dad.”
That landed.
Vincent stepped closer.
“He stole everything from me.”
“You stole from him first.”
“I built half his empire.”
“And now you want what? A dock? A title? Men afraid of your name?”
“I want what should have been mine.”
I almost pitied him.
“You've spent thirteen years trying to inherit a dead man's chair.”
His jaw tightened.
“I spent four years trying to forget this entire world.”
I put the ledger on a crate.
“You can have it.”
He frowned.
“I don't want any of it anymore.”
For the first time, Vincent looked uncertain.
That was the part he couldn't understand.
Men like Vincent knew how to fight greed.
They knew how to exploit ambition.
They didn't understand someone willing to walk away.
He reached for the ledger.
Red lights appeared across his chest.
Federal tactical teams emerged.
“Hands!”
Vincent looked at me.
Betrayal transformed his face.
“You brought the FBI?”
“Yes.”
“Our father would be ashamed.”
“Our father is dead.”
Vincent reached beneath his coat.
I shouted his name.
Agents raised their weapons.
For one terrible second, I saw the ending.
Blood.
Another Moretti funeral.
Another generation teaching the next that violence was destiny.
“Vincent.”
He looked at me.
“Don't.”
His hand stopped.
I stepped closer despite the agents shouting at me.
“You want to beat Dad?”
Vincent laughed bitterly.
“He's dead.”
“Exactly. Stop dying for him.”
Something changed.
His shoulders dropped.
Slowly, he removed his hand.
A pistol fell to the concrete.
Agents arrested him.
As they led him away, Vincent stopped beside me.
“Do you really think you can become something else?”
I looked at him.
“I have to.”
“Why?”
I thought of Lily.
“Because someone's watching.”
By 5:07, I was driving back to Long Island.
The sky had begun turning gray.
Snow still fell.
I entered the mansion quietly.
Most of the lights were off.
I found Sophia in the kitchen.
Barefoot.
Still wearing the maid uniform.
She sat at the island drinking coffee.
“Lily?”
“Asleep.”
I nodded.
“Vincent?”
“Alive. In custody.”
Sophia closed her eyes.
Relief.
I sat opposite her.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then she said, “You didn't kill him.”
“No.”
“You could have.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you?”
I looked toward the staircase.
“Because someday Lily might ask what happened tonight.”
Sophia's eyes softened.
“And I want to be able to tell her her father came home.”
Tears filled her eyes.
I reached across the island.
Stopped before touching her.
She noticed.
Then she placed her hand in mine.
It was the smallest gesture of the night.
It meant more than everything else.
“Dominic.”
“Yes?”
“There is something else.”
I almost laughed.
“Of course there is.”
She smiled faintly.
Then the smile disappeared.
“When I came here three months ago, it wasn't only because Isabella hired me.”
My chest tightened.
“Why else?”
Sophia looked toward the hallway to make sure Lily couldn't hear.
May you like
Then she whispered:
“Because someone had been following us.”
