Chapter 9 - THE LAST THING DIAMOND KELLY GAVE AWAY
Diamond walked into federal court using two forearm crutches.
The cameras exploded.
For two years, the public had seen almost nothing of him.
Now he appeared thinner, scarred, and standing.
Caprice walked beside him.
Not behind.
Never behind.
Damian's lawyers expected Diamond to fight.
Instead, he cooperated.
Not blindly.
Not suicidally.
His attorneys negotiated.
Legitimate businesses were separated from criminal operations.
Employees uninvolved in violence were protected.
Financial records were surrendered.
Old crimes were examined.
Diamond gave testimony about the organization he had inherited, expanded, and ultimately decided to dismantle.
It cost him.
Properties were seized.
Accounts frozen.
Associates turned against him.
Men who once called him brother called him traitor.
Caprice never asked him to do it.
That mattered.
This was his decision.
His reckoning.
Damian watched from the defense table during one hearing.
"You really let a maid domesticate you."
Diamond looked at him.
"No."
He glanced toward Caprice.
"She reminded me I had choices."
Damian received a lengthy prison sentence after evidence tied him to the sniper attack, Thomas Thompson's death, kidnappings, financial crimes, and multiple murders.
Diamond faced consequences too.
His cooperation, medical circumstances, and evidence against larger networks shaped the final agreement, but did not erase his responsibility.
He accepted that.
A year earlier, accepting anything had seemed impossible.
When he returned home after the final hearing, the mansion felt different.
Most armed guards were gone.
Several wings had been closed.
The dark rooms were being renovated.
Caprice found him in the study.
The same study where she had once scrubbed baseboards while he demanded to know who the hell she was.
A cardboard box sat on his desk.
"What is that?" she asked.
"Your things."
She froze.
"Excuse me?"
"You're fired."
Caprice stared.
Diamond kept his expression perfectly serious.
"Diamond."
"You've become impossible."
"Diamond Kelly."
"You contradict me. Steal my blankets. Tell my physical therapist embarrassing stories."
She marched toward him.
He was standing beside the desk with one hand resting on a cane.
"After everything we've been through, you are firing me?"
"Yes."
She pointed at him.
"I swear—"
"Open the box."
Caprice narrowed her eyes.
She opened it.
Inside was her old canvas apron.
Folded carefully.
On top sat a pair of yellow rubber cleaning gloves.
Caprice looked at him.
"What is this?"
"A reminder."
"Of?"
"The first woman who walked into my house and treated me like furniture."
She laughed despite herself.
Then she noticed the envelope beneath the gloves.
Inside was a document.
Not a check.
Not property.
A proposal for the Thompson-Kelly Foundation.
A nonprofit designed to fund memory care for low-income families, rehabilitation programs for spinal-cord injuries, and financial assistance for caregivers forced to work multiple jobs.
Caprice read silently.
Her eyes filled.
"Diamond."
"You said you wouldn't accept charity."
She looked up.
"So I thought we could build something."
"We?"
"Equal partners."
She continued reading.
The foundation's first memory-care center would be named after Thomas Thompson.
Caprice stopped.
Her fingers began trembling.
"My dad?"
"He died trying to warn me."
Diamond's voice became rough.
"I spent two years believing he betrayed me. His name deserves better."
Caprice covered her mouth.
Diamond moved closer.
His steps were still slow.
Uneven.
Every one required concentration.
But he walked.
Caprice watched him.
"You planned all this?"
"I had help."
"Levi?"
"Unfortunately."
As though summoned by the insult, Levi appeared at the doorway.
"She's crying, so I assume it worked."
"Leave."
"Gladly."
Caprice laughed.
Levi disappeared.
Diamond stopped in front of her.
"No more night cleaning."
"I liked night cleaning."
"You complained constantly."
"I complained about you."
"Exactly."
She put the document down.
Then she wrapped her arms around him.
Diamond caught himself against the desk.
"Careful."
"Sorry."
"I'm still learning this."
"So am I."
He kissed her.
Then Caprice felt something in his jacket pocket.
A small box.
She pulled back.
Diamond's expression changed.
"What is that?"
"Nothing."
"You are a terrible liar."
"Give it back."
Caprice grabbed the box before he could stop her.
She opened it.
Then froze.
A diamond ring rested inside.
Caprice stared at him.
"You were carrying this?"
"I had a plan."
"Was firing me part of the proposal?"
"No."
"Good, because it was terrible."
Diamond took the box.
He looked suddenly uncomfortable.
Caprice had seen him face gunmen with less anxiety.
"You're nervous."
"No."
"Your hand is shaking."
"Neurological injury."
"Diamond."
He sighed.
Then, slowly, he lowered himself.
Caprice's smile disappeared.
"Wait."
He held the desk.
One knee bent.
Then the other.
With enormous effort, Diamond Kelly lowered himself onto one knee.
Caprice began crying before he said anything.
"Two years ago," he said, "I thought standing would be the impossible part."
His voice broke slightly.
"It wasn't."
He looked up at her.
"Trusting someone was."
Caprice covered her mouth.
Diamond held out the ring.
"You walked into the worst version of me and refused to be impressed by him."
She laughed through tears.
"You annoyed me."
"You still annoy me."
"Good."
He smiled.
"Caprice Thompson, will you marry me?"
She stared at him for several seconds.
Then deliberately looked at her watch.
Diamond frowned.
"What are you doing?"
"Making you suffer."
"Caprice."
"Yes."
He stopped.
"What?"
"Yes."
May you like
Diamond smiled.
And this time, there was nothing rusty about it.
