Chapter 8 - I LET CHICAGO BELIEVE I WAS DEAD
By Friday morning, the rumor was everywhere.
Dominic Romano had died at 2:17 a.m.
Heart failure.
Complications from a mysterious illness.
Private family statement forthcoming.
No funeral details yet.
Chicago devoured the news.
News vans gathered outside the Gold Coast mansion.
Reporters called every legitimate Romano office.
Old enemies sent flowers.
Politicians who had avoided being photographed with me issued tasteful statements about “a prominent Chicago businessman.”
Three men I had threatened personally described me as a generous philanthropist.
Death improves reputations.
The best part was that I was alive enough to enjoy it.
Marco had objected to the plan.
Dr. Harris had called it medically stupid.
Elena had called it something in Spanish I did not need translated.
But Vincent believed I was weak.
Vanessa believed she had already won.
I wanted them confident.
Confidence creates mistakes.
I remained inside a secure apartment above an old restaurant my mother once owned.
Only six people knew I was alive.
Marco.
Elena.
Lily.
Dr. Harris.
My attorney Samuel Pierce.
And an assistant U.S. attorney named Rebecca Sloan.
That last name would have made my father rise from the grave to slap me.
I had spent my adult life avoiding federal prosecutors.
Now one sat across from me drinking terrible coffee.
“You understand what you’re offering?” Sloan asked.
“Yes.”
“Financial records involving organized criminal activity.”
“Yes.”
“Names.”
“Some.”
“Enough to put people in prison?”
“Depends how good you are.”
She did not smile.
“I’m very good.”
“So am I.”
Elena kicked my ankle beneath the table.
Apparently, flirting with federal prosecution through arrogance was discouraged.
Sloan closed the folder.
“In return, you want protection for Elena and Lily.”
“Permanent.”
“You’re not in a position to dictate terms.”
“I’m giving you Vincent Caruso.”
“You’re also Dominic Romano.”
“I noticed.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You could face charges.”
“I know.”
Elena turned toward me.
We had discussed this privately.
She hated it.
I hated that she hated it.
But I could not build Lily a safe life while asking her to inherit a war.
Sloan eventually stood.
“If the evidence is what you say it is, we talk again.”
She left.
Elena waited until the door closed.
“You’re giving up everything.”
“No.”
“You could go to prison.”
“Yes.”
“How is that not everything?”
I looked toward the adjoining room, where Lily was doing homework under Marco’s supervision.
“Everything is in there.”
Elena’s anger disappeared.
I continued.
“My father used to say a Romano never walks away from power.”
“What do you say?”
“My father died with three bodyguards outside his hospital room and nobody he trusted enough to hold his hand.”
Elena sat across from me.
“I don’t want Lily growing up visiting you behind glass.”
“Neither do I.”
“Then fight for yourself too.”
I looked at her.
“You care?”
“Don’t make that face.”
“What face?”
“That smug Italian face.”
“I’m not Italian?”
She stared.
“Dominic.”
I smiled.
For a moment, we were twenty-four again.
Then Marco entered.
“Vanessa surfaced.”
The room changed.
“Where?”
“The mansion.”
Elena stood.
“What?”
Marco smiled.
“She thinks she owns it.”
Of course she did.
According to the public story, I had died without signing updated succession documents.
Vanessa was not yet my wife, so she inherited nothing.
But she believed she had one more card.
Vincent.
At four that afternoon, hidden cameras showed Vanessa entering my study.
Vincent arrived twenty minutes later.
Rossi and Palmer came after dark.
Two captains.
One corrupt attorney.
One senator’s chief of staff.
The infection had finally gathered in one room.
I watched through a secure feed.
Vanessa poured herself my whiskey.
That offended me more than expected.
Vincent stood behind my desk.
My desk.
“I told you he wouldn’t survive the week,” Vanessa said.
Vincent looked irritated.
“You almost ruined everything with the girl.”
“She’s contained.”
My eyes sharpened.
Contained?
Marco looked at me.
Elena went pale.
Vanessa continued.
“The federal agent assigned to the hospital leak thinks Elena and Lily were moved out of state.”
Vincent smiled.
“Good.”
They thought Lily was gone.
Safe.
Perfect.
Then Rossi asked the question we needed.
“What about Romano’s files?”
Vincent opened my safe.
The combination worked.
I had allowed it to.
Inside sat financial records.
Some real.
Most copied.
All tagged.
“The organization transfers Monday,” Vincent said.
“To you?” Palmer asked.
“To the council.”
Rossi laughed.
“Which means you.”
Vincent did not deny it.
Vanessa’s voice turned cold.
“And my agreement?”
“You receive what Dominic personally owned.”
“That was not our arrangement.”
“Our arrangement changed when you failed to marry him.”
“I kept him alive because you said—”
She stopped.
Too late.
Vincent looked toward her.
Every person monitoring the feed became motionless.
Vanessa had just admitted it.
Rebecca Sloan, listening from another location, sent Marco one message.
GOT IT.
Vincent’s face darkened.
“You should speak less.”
Vanessa slammed down her glass.
“I spent six weeks poisoning a man I was supposed to marry because you promised—”
More.
Beautiful.
I almost applauded.
Vincent lunged toward her.
She stepped back.
“You think I don’t have insurance?”
“What insurance?”
“Recordings.”
Vincent froze.
So did I.
Vanessa smiled.
“If I go down, you go first.”
Vincent pulled a gun.
The room erupted.
Rossi shouted.
Palmer moved toward the door.
Before Vincent could raise the weapon, every light in the mansion went out.
Marco looked at me.
“My turn.”
Thirty federal agents entered the grounds.
So did Chicago police officers Sloan trusted.
Doors crashed open.
Commands echoed through the mansion.
On the video, Palmer dropped to the floor.
Rossi tried to run.
Vanessa screamed.
Vincent did not.
He stood behind my desk as agents flooded the room.
Then his eyes lifted directly toward the hidden camera.
For a second, I thought he could see me.
His mouth moved.
I leaned toward the screen.
He said three words.
“You’re still alive.”
I smiled.
Then I pressed the intercom connection.
My voice entered the study.
“You always were smart, Vincent.”
Vanessa’s face became white.
Vincent looked upward.
I continued.
“But not smarter than me.”
The federal agents handcuffed him.
For the first time since I was a teenager, I watched an enemy leave my home without anyone firing a shot.
It felt strange.
Clean.
Maybe that was what winning was supposed to feel like.
Then Marco’s phone rang.
He answered.
His smile vanished.
“What?”
Elena stood.
“What happened?”
Marco looked at me.
“The team Vincent hired for Lily.”
My blood went cold.
“What about them?”
“They didn’t get the message he was arrested.”
“Where are they?”
May you like
Marco swallowed.
“Outside this building.”
