Chapter 6 - THE BROTHER WHO WANTED AN EMPIRE
We returned to Chicago before dawn.
Nico was examined at the hospital.
No sedatives.
No poison.
No injuries.
Just fear and exhaustion.
Damien stayed beside his crib.
Leo was brought over from the mansion under police protection.
The twins slept together for the first time since the restaurant.
Damien sat between them.
He did not speak for almost an hour.
Rourke’s statement was being taken downstairs.
Detective Alvarez had called state investigators, federal investigators, and apparently enough agencies to make Damien’s lawyers miserable for the next decade.
I sat across from him.
Finally:
“Sofia had a pulmonary embolism.”
His voice sounded empty.
“So I was told.”
I said nothing.
“The twins were born by emergency C-section. She seemed fine afterward.”
His hands tightened.
“Two days later, she collapsed.”
“Was Rourke involved in her care?”
“No.”
“Sal?”
“He was at the hospital.”
My stomach tightened.
“How much?”
“All the time.”
Damien looked toward the twins.
“He loved her.”
Something about the sentence sounded wrong.
“How?”
He looked at me.
“What do you mean?”
“Loved her like family?”
Damien’s eyes narrowed.
“They grew up together.”
“Sofia knew Sal before you?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Since they were teenagers.”
I waited.
Understanding came slowly.
“You think Sal wanted her.”
Damien’s face hardened.
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Too quick.
“Damien.”
“She chose me.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
He stood.
“You’re crossing a line.”
“I know.”
“Then stop.”
“No.”
His eyes flashed.
Nobody told Damien Moretti no.
I was beginning to understand why I kept losing jobs.
“If Rourke said Sal was involved before the twins were born, then Sofia matters.”
Damien stared at me.
“So either you ask the ugly questions, or somebody keeps using what you refuse to look at.”
That landed.
He turned away.
After a long silence:
“Sal loved her first.”
There it was.
“Sofia never loved him back?”
“She cared about him.”
“But not the way he wanted.”
“No.”
“What happened when you married her?”
“Sal disappeared for six months.”
“Where?”
“Europe.”
“And when he came back?”
“He said he was over it.”
I almost laughed.
Damien did not.
“He wasn’t.”
“No.”
Detective Alvarez entered carrying a folder.
“Rourke’s talking.”
Damien turned.
“What did he say about Sofia?”
Alvarez looked at me.
Then Damien.
“You’re going to want to sit down.”
He did not.
She continued.
“Rourke never treated your wife, but he supplied medication to someone who did.”
Damien’s expression vanished.
“Who?”
“A private nurse named Elaine Porter.”
“I remember her.”
“She worked one overnight shift after the twins were born.”
“What medication?”
Alvarez hesitated.
“A blood-thinning reversal agent and another drug that could increase clotting risk under certain conditions.”
Damien went pale.
“Are you saying she killed Sofia?”
“We’re saying Rourke admitted providing medication to Porter at Salvatore’s request.”
Damien gripped the bed rail.
“Where is Porter?”
“Dead.”
His eyes lifted.
“Car accident eighteen months ago.”
Of course.
Alvarez continued.
“Rourke claims he believed Sal wanted to create a temporary complication.”
“Rourke lies.”
“Yes.”
“We’ll verify everything.”
Damien looked at his sons.
“He killed their mother.”
“We don’t know that yet.”
Damien’s jaw locked.
“I do.”
Alvarez stepped closer.
“And this is where you don’t do what your family has always done.”
He looked at her.
“You don’t find Sal yourself.”
Silence.
“You let us.”
Damien almost smiled.
“You think I’m going to sit here?”
“I think if you want him convicted instead of buried, yes.”
The sentence hung there.
I watched Damien.
This was the line.
Everyone knew what men like him traditionally did with betrayal.
Family betrayal was worse.
His wife.
His children.
His brother.
He could choose vengeance.
Or something harder.
He looked at Leo.
Nico.
Then finally:
“I’ll give you everything.”
Alvarez stared.
“Everything?”
“Business records. Accounts. Locations. Men.”
“Damien.”
Mateo had entered behind her.
His face changed.
Damien turned.
“Everything.”
Mateo understood what that meant.
Some of Moretti operations were legitimate.
Some were not.
Damien had inherited both and maintained enough distance to avoid prosecution.
Giving investigators everything could destroy half his empire.
Maybe more.
“Boss.”
Damien looked at the twins.
“I almost lost them because everybody in my world knows secrets are more valuable than truth.”
Mateo said nothing.
“I’m done.”
Alvarez watched him carefully.
“You understand that cooperating does not guarantee immunity.”
“Yes.”
“You could incriminate yourself.”
“I know.”
“Your lawyers will advise against this.”
“They advise against most interesting decisions.”
Despite herself, Alvarez almost smiled.
Damien continued.
“Sal wants the throne?”
His expression turned cold.
“Let him watch it burn.”
By noon, Mateo had brought encrypted drives.
Account ledgers.
Property files.
Names.
Damien’s attorneys arrived furious.
One threatened to quit.
Damien opened the door for him.
He stayed.
I watched it all from the corner of the hospital room.
At some point, Damien looked at me.
“What?”
I asked.
“You’re still here.”
“I noticed.”
“Why?”
I did not know.
Because the twins were safe.
Because my apartment had been destroyed.
Because I had nowhere else to go.
Because for the first time in three years, somebody powerful had believed me before demanding I prove I deserved belief.
Maybe all of it.
“Someone still owes me a night’s tips.”
That surprised a laugh out of him.
A real one.
It disappeared quickly.
“You’re not going back to Bellavita.”
“Excuse me?”
“You were fired.”
“That does not mean you get to decide my next job.”
“I wasn’t deciding.”
“You have a tone.”
“What tone?”
“The one rich men use before rearranging someone else’s life.”
His mouth almost curved.
“I was going to offer you a job.”
“No.”
“I haven’t said what.”
“Still no.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to become financially dependent on a man currently under federal investigation.”
Mateo turned away to hide a smile.
Damien looked offended.
“That’s remarkably practical.”
“Medical debt teaches useful things.”
His gaze sharpened.
“How much?”
“No.”
“Still forty-seven?”
I stared.
“You remembered?”
“Yes.”
Something about that unsettled me more than if he had forgotten.
He looked toward the twins.
“I need someone to evaluate their sensory and developmental care independently.”
“I’m not a physician.”
“I know.”
“I’m also not currently employed clinically.”
“Because Rourke destroyed your career.”
“Yes.”
“So clear your name.”
I laughed.
“With what?”
Damien looked toward Alvarez.
“The man who framed you is downstairs confessing to manipulating pediatric medication records.”
I went still.
He was right.
For three years, I had thought my career was dead.
Now the person who buried it was alive.
Talking.
Documented.
Potentially prosecutable.
“What are you saying?”
“That you should fight.”
My throat tightened.
“It isn’t that easy.”
“No.”
His voice softened.
“I imagine it won’t be.”
He knew something about difficult fights.
Then Mateo’s phone rang.
His expression changed.
“Sal’s been found.”
Damien stood.
“Where?”
“Your old meatpacking warehouse on Fulton.”
“How do you know?”
“He called.”
Damien’s face hardened.
“What does he want?”
Mateo looked at me.
Then back at Damien.
“He says he’ll surrender.”
Nobody believed that.
“There’s a condition,” Mateo added.
“Of course.”
“He wants Ellie.”
My stomach dropped.
Damien’s eyes became dangerous.
“No.”
Mateo continued.
“He says she has something that belongs to Rourke.”
I stared.
“I don’t.”
Then I remembered.
My old notebook.
Gone from my apartment.
Except—
Not everything was in that notebook.
Three years ago, after my phone disappeared, I had done one paranoid thing.
I emailed a scanned therapy log to myself.
One attachment.
One page.
A page showing Rourke’s handwritten initials beside a dosage modification.
I had forgotten about it because it had seemed useless without the rest of the chart.
Now it might be everything.
Sal somehow knew.
And if he wanted me badly enough to call Damien directly—
May you like
he was more afraid of that page than he was of prison.
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