Chapter 14 - THE LAST DEBT
Dominic’s exit took three years.
Not three weeks.
He sold legitimate holdings.
Closed illegal operations where he could.
Separated restaurants and real estate from men who treated them as fronts.
Turned certain records over through counsel.
Lost allies.
Lost money.
Received threats.
Nobody magically applauded reform.
Paulie stayed.
Victor eventually moved to Arizona and managed a logistics company that had nothing to do with gambling.
He still called Dominic every Sunday.
Anthony Moretti accepted a long sentence after cooperation and financial charges.
Lucian Varga survived, diminished.
I stopped tracking him.
Sam became fourteen.
Then fifteen.
Tall.
Annoying.
Obsessed with basketball.
He barely remembered the alley.
Good.
I remembered enough for both of us.
I became compliance manager at my company.
Then director.
My boss once asked why I had an almost supernatural instinct for fake vendor records.
I said:
“Family experience.”
Not wrong.
Dominic and I moved in together only after I could afford to leave anytime.
That condition was mine.
He understood.
We opened a joint household account.
Separate personal accounts remained.
Also mine.
Again:
He understood.
Then he proposed.
Badly.
No restaurant.
No yacht.
No armed men.
We were in my kitchen.
Sam had left cereal everywhere.
Dominic looked irritated.
Then suddenly put a ring beside the milk.
I stared.
“What is that?”
“A ring.”
“I see that.”
“Good.”
“You planned this?”
“No.”
“Clearly.”
He looked offended.
“I bought it months ago.”
“Why now?”
He thought.
“Because you’re complaining about cereal and I realized I want to hear you complain about cereal for the rest of my life.”
I laughed so hard I cried.
Then:
“That is the worst proposal in Seattle.”
“Yes or no?”
“Ask properly.”
He sighed.
Got down on one knee.
Immediately knocked Sam’s basketball off a chair.
It rolled across the kitchen.
Perfect.
“Chloe Bennett.”
“Yes?”
“Will you marry me?”
I looked at him.
Then asked:
“Do I owe you anything?”
His face changed.
He understood immediately.
“No.”
“For the alley?”
“No.”
“The debt?”
“No.”
“The apartment?”
“No.”
“Sam’s school?”
“No.”
“For staying?”
“No.”
“Then yes.”
He closed his eyes.
Relief.
Not victory.
Important.
Then Sam walked in.
Saw Dominic on one knee.
Groaned.
“Seriously?”
Dominic stood.
“You ruined it.”
“You put your ring next to milk.”
Sam looked at me.
“Are you actually marrying him?”
“Yes.”
He thought.
Then:
“Can Paulie be best man?”
From the hallway:
“Obviously.”
Paulie had apparently been listening.
Again.
Our wedding was scheduled for spring.
Then, two weeks before it, my attorney called.
One final unresolved account had surfaced.
Forty thousand dollars.
Exact amount of the false debt.
Held in escrow under Thomas Bennett’s name.
Beneficiary:
Dominic Rossi.
I stared at the document.
May you like
My father had left Dominic money.
And one last letter.
