Chapter 9 - THE MAN WITHOUT AN EMPIRE
Eighteen months later, Nora was wearing blue scrubs again.
Not a maid’s uniform.
Nursing scrubs.
She had returned to school three months after Zeo’s arrest.
Eli’s recovery had progressed beyond expectations. He walked with a cane now and had begun community college classes online.
Gabriel had entered a cooperation agreement.
Thomas Bellini received multiple federal convictions.
The corruption exposed by Zeo’s ledger spread far beyond the Rossi organization.
Zeo pleaded guilty.
He refused to purchase innocence with other people’s guilt.
But his cooperation mattered.
So did the evidence showing that he had voluntarily dismantled operations before prosecutors demanded it.
His sentence was substantial.
Then it became shorter.
Nora did not wait beside a window.
She lived.
She studied.
She worked.
She laughed.
She occasionally dated.
Very occasionally.
None lasted.
Every month, a letter arrived.
Zeo never wrote romantic speeches.
The first said:
Eli owes me twelve dollars. Gabriel says he beat me at cards while I was medicated. I dispute the validity of the game.
The second:
Prison coffee should itself be a federal offense.
The fifth:
You were right about the suit. Twelve thousand dollars was ridiculous.
Nora kept that one.
By the twelfth letter, Zeo wrote:
I spent most of my life believing remorse was weakness. It turns out remorse is simply memory refusing to let you lie to yourself.
She read that sentence many times.
She answered every letter.
She never promised him anything.
Neither did he ask.
Twenty-six months after his arrest, Nora received no letter.
Instead, Gabriel appeared outside St. Jude’s.
“You look suspicious,” she said.
“I always look suspicious.”
“True.”
He handed her an envelope.
Inside was a court document.
Zeo’s sentence had been reduced following extraordinary cooperation, asset forfeiture, and testimony that dismantled several criminal networks.
Release date:
Today.
Nora stared.
“He didn’t tell me.”
“He didn’t know until yesterday.”
“Where is he?”
Gabriel smiled.
“Trying not to come here.”
“What?”
“He thinks you moved on.”
Nora’s heart pounded.
“Did you tell him?”
“That would ruin my entertainment.”
She hit Gabriel with the envelope.
“Where?”
An hour later, Nora stood outside a small house in Brooklyn.
Not a mansion.
Not an estate.
A narrow brick house with a tiny front garden.
Zeo was sitting on the steps.
He wore jeans.
Nora stopped.
She had never seen him in jeans.
He looked older.
There was gray at his temples.
His shoulders seemed lighter.
When he saw her, he stood.
Neither spoke.
Finally Nora said, “You look terrible.”
His mouth curved.
“You said that the first time?”
“Gabriel did.”
“Family influence.”
She walked closer.
“You didn’t call.”
“I thought you deserved the choice not to answer.”
“That is annoyingly mature.”
“I’ve had time.”
Silence.
“How’s Eli?”
“Walking.”
Zeo’s eyes changed.
“Really?”
“He still owes you twelve dollars.”
“I knew it.”
Nora laughed.
Then cried.
She hated crying.
Zeo did not touch her.
That mattered too.
He waited.
So Nora closed the distance herself.
She wrapped her arms around him.
His breath left him.
Slowly, carefully, he held her.
“I missed you,” he whispered.
“I know.”
“That sounded arrogant.”
“It was.”
“I’m trying to improve.”
“You have work to do.”
“A lot.”
She pulled back.
“What now?”
Zeo looked toward the modest house.
“I sold almost everything.”
“I heard.”
“The legitimate holdings that survived are under independent management.”
“And you?”
“I have no idea.”
For the first time since she had known him, Zeo Rossi had no plan.
Nora smiled.
“That might be good for you.”
“Terrifying.”
“You’ll survive.”
He looked at her.
“Are you seeing anyone?”
She raised an eyebrow.
“That took three minutes.”
“I waited twenty-six months.”
“Fair.”
“No?”
“No.”
Relief crossed his face so visibly she laughed.
Then his phone rang.
Zeo checked the number.
His smile vanished.
“What?”
He answered.
Listened.
Then looked at Nora.
Gabriel’s voice was loud enough for her to hear.
“Zeo, somebody accessed the old Rossi financial archive.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I know.”
“Who?”
“We don’t know.”
Zeo’s face hardened with an old instinct.
Nora saw the dangerous man returning.
Then he stopped himself.
“Send it to the authorities.”
Gabriel went silent.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“But—”
“I’m done.”
Zeo disconnected.
Nora studied him.
“That hurt.”
“More than the bullets.”
She smiled.
Then his phone buzzed again.
A photograph appeared.
It showed Camilla.
Alive.
Standing outside an airport in Athens.
May you like
Beneath it were four words.
YOU BURIED THE WRONG WOMAN.
