Chapter 7 - THE DEAL THAT KILLED MY FATHER
Derek Shaw talked.
Not because Victor threatened him.
Because Julia Reyes put a federal-protection agreement in front of him and explained that Richard Caldwell had already begun denying he existed.
Fear changes loyalty quickly.
Shaw had worked for Salvatore Greco for nine years.
Sometimes Caldwell.
Sometimes DeLuca.
Always Salvatore.
Eight years earlier, he was twenty-one.
A driver.
He remembered Mateo Martinez.
“He was supposed to be scared.”
My hands tightened.
“What does that mean?”
“Mr. Caldwell wanted him to leave New York.”
“Salvatore?”
“Wanted the ledger.”
“And my father?”
“He wouldn’t give it up.”
I forced myself to ask.
“Who ordered the car?”
Shaw looked at Victor.
Then me.
“Greco.”
Victor’s jaw tightened.
“Did my father know?”
“Not before.”
That mattered.
Not enough.
“What happened after?” Victor asked.
“Carlo found out.”
“And?”
“He wanted Greco gone.”
“Then why wasn’t he?”
Shaw laughed bitterly.
“You really don’t know your own family.”
Victor’s face became dangerous.
Shaw continued quickly.
“Greco had records.”
“What records?”
“Every illegal payment Carlo ever approved. Judges. unions. police. zoning.”
Victor went still.
Salvatore blackmailed Carlo.
If Carlo exposed Mateo’s murder, Salvatore would hand over enough evidence to destroy the DeLuca organization and send Victor’s father to prison.
So Carlo chose family power over justice.
My father stayed dead.
Richard stayed rich.
Salvatore stayed beside Carlo.
Until now.
I looked at Victor.
His face revealed nothing.
But his hands were shaking.
“What are you going to do?”
He met my eyes.
“Expose all of it.”
Even Julia looked at him.
“Victor.”
“You heard me.”
“That includes your father.”
“Yes.”
“And you.”
Silence.
I watched him carefully.
“Does it include you?”
Victor nodded.
“Yes.”
“What have you done?”
No romance could survive without that answer.
No trust either.
Victor was honest.
He had inherited parts of his father’s criminal structure at thirty-one.
Illegal gambling.
Extortion disguised as “security.”
Cash businesses used to hide revenue.
Threats.
Nothing he tried to glamorize.
He had never ordered a murder.
That was not innocence.
He knew that.
“If we release everything,” Julia said, “you could be charged.”
“Yes.”
“You could lose businesses.”
“Yes.”
“Property.”
“Yes.”
“Your position.”
“Yes.”
Victor looked at me.
“My father decided protecting the DeLuca name mattered more than telling Anna the truth.”
He turned back to Julia.
“I’m not making the same decision.”
I believed him in that moment.
Not enough to love him.
Enough to stand in the same room.
Then Shaw gave us the next problem.
Richard Caldwell planned to leave the United States in forty-eight hours.
Private jet.
Switzerland.
Salvatore would meet him first.
They were preparing to transfer the last shell accounts.
“How much?” Julia asked.
“Almost ninety million.”
My father’s original ledger could freeze it.
But only if authenticated.
By whom?
A surviving auditor from the old pension-management company.
One name.
ELAINE WARD.
I knew that name.
She had attended my father’s funeral.
May you like
I had called her Aunt Elaine my entire childhood.
And according to Shaw, she was the person who first introduced Mateo to Richard Caldwell’s scheme.
