Chapter 7 - The Final Audit of the Empire
Three days later, the storm had fully passed over the Connecticut hills.
The Rossi family’s attempt to destabilize the Moretti syndicate had backfired with catastrophic speed. Armed with the financial ledgers and Dr. Blake’s taped confession, Vincent’s legal and tactical teams had systematically dismantled the northern faction’s shipping routes, seizing three major port terminals in Brooklyn and freezing twelve offshore accounts before the rival bosses even realized their primary asset was gone.
I stood in Vincent’s private study on the third floor, packing my old leather suitcase.
The medical files were gone from the mahogany desk, replaced neatly by a single, crisp cashier’s check and a handwritten letter.
The door opened, and Vincent walked in. He looked relaxed, his hands tucked into his pockets, carrying two steaming mugs of black coffee. He set one down on the desk beside my bag.
“You’re leaving,” he stated, not as a question, but as an observation.
“My job here is done,” I said, zipping up my suitcase and standing straight. “Lucas and Leo’s blood panels came back clear this morning. Their liver function is recovering, and the neurological tests show zero permanent damage. They’re going to live long, healthy lives, Mr. Moretti.”
Vincent picked up his coffee mug, staring down at the dark liquid for a second before meeting my eyes.
“You saved my family, Claire,” he said, his voice steady and low. “The check on that desk covers your consulting fee, plus a zero you probably didn't expect. But money feels entirely inadequate for what you’ve given me back.”
“I’m a diagnostician, Mr. Moretti. I charge for my time, not my sentimentality,” I said, offering a faint, professional smile.
Vincent walked closer, stopping just a foot away. Up close, without the barrier of desks and medical files, the physical presence of the mafia boss was formidable, yet entirely devoid of menace.
“What if I don't want you to leave?” Vincent asked quietly.
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to hire a private investigator permanently for your estate?”
“I’m trying to keep someone around who isn't afraid to look behind the walls,” Vincent said, a rare, genuine smile touching the corners of his lips. “The estate is big, Claire. And there are still plenty of dark corners that need a little light.”
May you like
I looked down at the check on the desk, then back up at the man who had torn apart an empire to save his sons.
“I’ll think about it,” I said, picking up my suitcase. “Keeper of secrets sounds exhausting. But I do like the coffee here.”
