Chapter 8 - THE CHOICE DAMIEN MADE
The old Moretti church had been abandoned for eleven years.
St. Raphael’s.
South Side.
Boarded windows.
Broken stone steps.
A rusted cross above the roofline.
Damien’s grandfather had donated money to build it.
His father had apparently used the basement for meetings.
Family history, Chicago style.
Police surrounded the block.
Sal wanted Damien alone.
He got Damien wearing a hidden microphone and fifty officers within two streets.
I stayed in the command van with Detective Alvarez.
Damien hated that.
I called it compromise.
At 3:08 a.m., Damien entered.
Leo’s cries came through the microphone almost immediately.
I closed my eyes.
Alive.
“Sal.”
Damien’s voice echoed.
His brother answered.
“You came.”
“Give me my son.”
“Still giving orders.”
“Please.”
Everyone in the van looked up.
Damien Moretti had said please.
Sal laughed.
“That sounds better.”
The video feed from Damien’s body camera showed the ruined sanctuary.
Sal stood near the altar.
Leo sat strapped into an infant carrier beside him.
No visible weapon touching the baby.
That was something.
Rourke’s medication bag sat on a pew.
My stomach tightened.
Alvarez whispered into the radio.
“Do not rush.”
Damien continued walking.
“Why Sofia?”
Sal’s face changed.
“You want the truth now?”
“Yes.”
“She came to me after the twins were born.”
“What did she say?”
“She was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“Of the life.”
Damien’s jaw tightened.
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“She wanted you out.”
“I was already getting out.”
Sal laughed.
“Slowly. Like always.”
Damien stopped ten feet away.
“Did you kill her?”
For the first time, Sal looked away.
That was enough.
Damien’s breathing changed.
Alvarez whispered, “Stay with us.”
Sal said, “It wasn’t supposed to kill her.”
Damien went still.
Exactly what Rourke had said.
“What was supposed to happen?”
“A complication.”
“Why?”
“She would force you to leave Chicago.”
My stomach turned.
“You drugged my wife to manipulate me.”
Sal’s face twisted.
“I was saving this family.”
“You killed her.”
“I said it wasn’t supposed to happen!”
His shout echoed.
Leo started crying harder.
Damien’s eyes went to his son.
Sal noticed.
“There.”
His voice softened strangely.
“That face.”
“What?”
“The one you never made for Father.”
Damien said nothing.
“You think he loved you because he gave you the chair?”
Sal laughed.
“He used you. He made you into him.”
“You wanted the chair.”
“I wanted something.”
His voice cracked.
“Anything.”
For the first time, Sal looked less like a villain and more like a boy who had spent his whole life watching somebody else be chosen.
It did not excuse anything.
It simply made the tragedy uglier.
Damien said, “You could have walked away.”
“And be what?”
“Free.”
Sal’s face hardened.
“Easy for the favorite son.”
Damien took another step.
“Give me Leo.”
“No.”
“What do you want?”
“Sign control of Moretti Holdings to me.”
There it was.
Alvarez whispered, “Keep him talking.”
Damien looked toward the bag on the pew.
“What’s in there?”
Sal smiled.
“Insurance.”
I knew immediately.
Medication.
“Damien,” I whispered into the communication channel.
He could hear only Alvarez and me through his hidden earpiece.
“Keep him away from the bag.”
Damien’s eyes never moved.
“You drugged my sons because you wanted my company.”
“I made them sick.”
“You turned them blue.”
“That was Rourke’s mistake.”
“You hired him.”
“I controlled him.”
“No.”
Damien’s voice dropped.
“He controlled you the moment you needed a coward to do what you couldn’t do yourself.”
Sal’s face changed.
Good.
Anger.
Angry people make mistakes.
He stepped away from Leo.
“Coward?”
Damien stayed still.
“You poisoned a woman after childbirth.”
“Stop.”
“You hurt infants.”
“Stop.”
“You paid other men to destroy Ellie’s career because she noticed what you were doing to children.”
Sal looked toward the shadows.
As if I were there.
“You brought her into this.”
“No.”
Damien’s voice became calm.
“She was already in it. You just didn’t think she mattered.”
Sal reached for the bag.
Police prepared to move.
Damien saw it.
“So that’s what this was always about.”
Sal stopped.
“What?”
“People you thought didn’t matter.”
He looked toward Leo.
“A therapist.”
Another step.
“A nanny.”
Another.
“Children.”
Sal’s hand moved toward his coat.
Alvarez whispered, “Weapon.”
Damien stopped.
Sal drew a gun.
Pressed it toward Leo.
Everything froze.
My heart stopped.
“Back up.”
Damien obeyed.
“Sal.”
“You always win.”
“No.”
“You got Father.”
“Father made both of us miserable.”
“You got Sofia.”
“She wasn’t a prize.”
“You got sons.”
Damien’s eyes filled.
“She loved you.”
Sal flinched.
Not Sofia.
Damien continued.
“She loved you like a brother.”
“Shut up.”
“You had family.”
“Shut up!”
“You destroyed it because it wasn’t the exact shape you wanted.”
Sal’s hand shook.
Leo screamed.
I could hear the baby beginning to lose rhythm.
Fast breaths.
Overload.
“Damien,” I whispered. “Leo needs your voice.”
Damien’s eyes shifted.
He understood.
Then he began humming.
Softly.
Three beats.
The rhythm I had used at Bellavita.
One-two-three.
One-two-three.
Sal stared.
“What are you doing?”
Damien kept humming.
Leo’s crying hitched.
Then slowed slightly.
Sal looked down.
That moment was enough.
Damien moved.
He lunged.
Gunshot.
I screamed.
The camera hit the floor.
Officers stormed the church.
Alvarez ran.
I followed before anyone could stop me.
Inside, chaos.
Sal on the floor.
Police restraining him.
Damien kneeling near the altar.
Blood on his shoulder.
Leo in his arms.
Alive.
I ran to them.
“Damien.”
“I’m fine.”
“You were shot.”
“Graze.”
“That is still shot.”
Leo cried against him.
I touched the baby’s back.
“One-two-three.”
Damien joined.
Together.
Leo settled.
Sal was dragged past us.
He looked at Damien.
“You’re giving everything to the police.”
“Yes.”
“You’ll lose the business.”
“Probably.”
“You’ll lose the name.”
Damien looked at his son.
“No.”
Then at Sal.
“I’m finally giving the name a chance to mean something else.”
Sal laughed bitterly.
“You think she’ll stay?”
His eyes moved to me.
My chest tightened.
Damien did not look at me.
“She doesn’t owe me that.”
That answer mattered more than he knew.
Sal was taken away.
Damien sat on the church floor.
Bleeding.
Holding his son.
Police everywhere.
His empire collapsing.
And somehow, he looked lighter.
I crouched beside him.
“You need a hospital.”
He looked at me.
“You always tell me what to do.”
“You’re welcome.”
A tired smile appeared.
Then:
“Ellie.”
“Yes?”
“If I lose everything…”
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
“What?”
“Do not make this into one of those dramatic rich-man speeches about whether anyone will love you without money.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“I wasn’t—”
“You absolutely were.”
For the first time in days, he laughed.
Then winced from his shoulder.
I softened.
“You’re going to lose things.”
“I know.”
“Some of them probably need losing.”
“Yes.”
“You still have Leo.”
He looked down.
“Nico.”
“Yes.”
“Mateo.”
Unfortunately.”
He laughed again.
“And?”
His eyes met mine.
I knew what he was asking.
I did not give him the easy answer.
“You have a chance.”
“At what?”
“Becoming somebody your sons won’t have to recover from.”
His smile disappeared.
The words landed.
Then he nodded.
“That’s enough.”
It was.
May you like
For now.
---
