Chapter 13 - THE LAST MESSAGE FROM MY FATHER
The memory card contained no financial records.
No Mafia names.
No murder evidence.
Federal investigators already had enough.
This was personal.
Dad appeared on video sitting beside Orion.
The dog was younger.
Restless.
Dad scratched his chest.
“Liv, if you’re watching this, then this stubborn beast finally did what I trained him to do.”
I laughed through tears.
Orion rested his head on my knee.
Dad continued.
“I taught him three things that mattered more than attack commands.”
“Find home.”
“Find the child.”
“And trust Olivia.”
My heart stopped.
Dante looked at me.
Dad smiled at the camera.
“You met Orion once.”
I frowned.
Then remembered.
Seven years earlier, Dad brought home a black puppy for one afternoon.
I had been working two jobs and barely paid attention.
The puppy slept on my bed while Dad repaired something in the kitchen.
Orion.
“He remembers you,” Dad said in the video.
“That dog remembers kindness longer than most people remember debts.”
I cried harder.
Then Dad’s expression became serious.
“If Dante is with you, listen.”
Dante straightened.
“Moretti, I don’t know what kind of man you’ll be when you see this.”
“But Michael,” I whispered, “he can’t hear you.”
Dante squeezed my hand.
Dad continued.
“If you find your son, don’t build another fortress around him.”
“Build a life he doesn’t need to escape.”
Dante looked down.
“And Olivia?”
Dad smiled.
“She will tell you no.”
I laughed through tears.
“Repeatedly.”
Dante muttered, “He knew you well.”
“Listen to her.”
The video ended with Dad hugging Orion.
No grand secret.
Just love.
Somehow that hurt more.
Weeks later, Salvatore and Anthony were formally indicted.
The evidence from Michael, Sofia, Elena, Vincent, and the restaurant manager created a case too large to bury.
Dante surrendered records from his own organization too.
That decision cost him money.
Power.
Several alliances.
He did it anyway.
“What happens to you?” I asked.
“I answer for what belongs to me.”
Not what his father did.
Not what Salvatore did.
What he did.
That mattered.
Legitimate Moretti businesses remained under new oversight.
The criminal network shrank piece by piece.
And I quit the restaurant.
Not for Dante.
For myself.
Dad had left a small life-insurance policy I had never touched.
I combined it with savings and a loan.
Then rented an old training facility in Brooklyn.
A place for difficult dogs nobody wanted.
Working dogs with trauma.
Shelter animals labeled dangerous.
Dogs like Orion.
I called it Marshall Canine Haven.
Dante offered to finance it.
I said no.
He smiled.
“I expected that.”
But Eli drew the logo.
Orion became the unofficial mascot.
And three months after opening, Dante stood in the doorway after closing.
“I love you.”
No warning.
No setup.
I stared at him.
“That’s rude.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“I expected a different response.”
“You don’t get to drop that on someone while she’s cleaning kennels.”
“I can repeat it somewhere more expensive.”
I laughed.
Then looked at him.
“I love you too.”
His face softened.
May you like
And behind us, Orion barked once.
As if approving a decision he had apparently made long before either of us.
