Chapter 13 - THE DOCTOR WHO SAID YES
Dr. Hall surrendered the next morning.
He walked into a federal building with an attorney and eighteen boxes of records.
I expected a monster.
Instead, I saw a broken man.
That didn't excuse anything.
It just made the truth uglier.
His daughter had needed an experimental surgery overseas four years earlier.
Insurance denied it.
Vincent paid.
Three hundred eighty thousand dollars.
Then came the price.
Hall was ordered to describe Dominic's seizures as unexplained.
To discourage emergency intervention.
To manipulate medication records.
At first, Hall claimed he tried to minimize harm.
Then Vincent threatened to expose him.
So Hall kept obeying.
“You could have told me,” Dominic said.
Hall looked at him.
“I was afraid.”
“So was I.”
That sentence ended the conversation.
Hall pleaded guilty to several charges and agreed to testify.
Mercer began negotiating too.
Vincent didn't.
He blamed everyone except himself.
My father's murder investigation reopened.
So did Anthony's.
Dominic formally turned over every illegal business record he possessed.
For weeks, the Moretti organization collapsed piece by piece.
Some men were arrested.
Some fled.
Some accepted legitimate jobs in the legal companies Dominic preserved.
Chicago newspapers called it a criminal civil war.
They were wrong.
Dominic wasn't fighting for control.
He was giving it up.
One evening, we stood on the mansion terrace where the floodlight had once been.
The entire courtyard system had been replaced.
No remotely accessible strobes.
No hidden receivers.
No security-only controls.
I inspected it myself.
Twice.
Dominic leaned against the railing.
“You know people are terrified of you now.”
“Why?”
“You hit Mercer with a light fixture.”
“I turned on a work light.”
“The story improved in retelling.”
I smiled.
He looked at my scarred palm.
“It healed.”
“Mostly.”
He touched my hand carefully.
Something changed between us.
It had been changing for weeks.
Neither of us had named it.
“I owe you my life,” he said.
“No.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“You owe me for a destroyed van.”
That made him laugh.
A real laugh.
Then he became serious.
“I don't know what happens after this.”
“For you?”
“For any of it.”
I looked at the mansion.
“Maybe that's good.”
“Why?”
“Because your whole life has been people deciding what happens next.”
He watched me.
“And you?”
“I have a business to rebuild.”
He hesitated.
“What if I wanted to see you when nothing is exploding?”
I smiled.
“That would be suspicious.”
His phone rang before he could answer.
Assistant U.S. Attorney Shaw.
After the call, Dominic looked stunned.
“What?”
He handed me the phone.
A recovered voicemail had been found on Vincent's archived server.
From four years earlier.
My father.
Walter Hodge had called Dominic directly the night before he died.
Vincent had intercepted the message.
May you like
And my father's final words had been:
“Mr. Moretti, your brother trusted me. If I don't make it tomorrow, find my daughter. Penny will know what to do.”
