Chapter 6 - Gerardo Gave Up His Empire Before Molly Could Ask Him ToThe ledger could destroy Gerardo Romani.
Molly understood that by morning.
Several companies under his control appeared in the records.
Some transactions were decades old.
Others were recent.
Not murders.
Not trafficking.
But bribery.
Extortion.
Political influence.
Gerardo sat across from Molly in his penthouse office while she turned pages.
“You’re in here.”
“Yes.”
“You knew?”
“Some of it.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
Molly closed the book.
“If I give this to the FBI, you could go to prison.”
“Yes.”
“You’re remarkably calm.”
“I’ve known prison was a professional possibility since adolescence.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“I’m not laughing.”
She studied him.
“What are you going to do?”
“Give them the ledger.”
Molly stared.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You’ll incriminate yourself.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Gerardo walked toward the window.
“Because if I remove my pages, I become my father.”
Molly said nothing.
“If I destroy it, I become Vittorio.”
He looked at her.
“And if I ask you to keep it secret, I become every man who has ever told you your suffering mattered less than his comfort.”
Something tightened in Molly’s chest.
Gerardo continued.
“I won’t do that.”
“Do you expect me to be impressed?”
“No.”
“Do you expect forgiveness?”
“No.”
“What do you expect?”
“Consequences.”
The word settled between them.
Molly had spent most of her life watching powerful people escape consequences.
Landlords.
Debt collectors.
Men who grabbed waitresses because they assumed poverty meant permission.
Now the most powerful man she had ever met was voluntarily walking toward them.
“Why now?”
Gerardo looked down at the silver lion cuff link on his desk.
“Because I spent my entire life believing power meant never being helpless again.”
“And?”
“And it turns out power without limits simply turns you into the person who once made you helpless.”
Molly understood.
Too well.
Gerardo contacted an attorney.
Then a federal prosecutor.
By evening, negotiations had begun.
His organization reacted immediately.
Some men supported him.
Others called it betrayal.
Three captains disappeared.
Two bank accounts were emptied.
Someone burned a Romani-owned warehouse in Brooklyn.
By midnight, Gerardo’s empire was cracking.
Molly found him alone at Crimson and Steel.
The restaurant was closed.
He sat in the booth where they had met.
A glass of water stood before him.
“You’re losing everything,” she said.
“Not everything.”
“Your businesses.”
“Some.”
“Your men.”
“Some.”
“Your reputation.”
“That may be a public service.”
She sat across from him.
“Are you scared?”
Gerardo considered.
“Yes.”
It was the first time she had heard him admit fear.
“Of prison?”
“No.”
“Death?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
His eyes met hers.
“That when this is over, you’ll realize you only needed me because you were in danger.”
Molly went still.
Gerardo looked away.
It was astonishing.
The feared Gerardo Romani could order armed men into a warehouse without blinking.
But saying that had cost him something.
“You think I’m going to leave.”
“Yes.”
“Maybe I will.”
“I know.”
“And you’re still doing this?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because doing the right thing only when it earns you something is another form of business.”
Molly stared.
She wanted to distrust him.
It would have been easier.
But distrust had begun requiring more effort than belief.
She reached across the table.
Gerardo looked at her hand.
Then he placed his hand beneath it.
No kiss.
No promise.
Just two people sitting in an empty restaurant while an empire collapsed around them.
At three in the morning, the front windows exploded.
Gerardo pulled Molly down.
A car accelerated away.
Bullets tore through the restaurant.
They crawled behind the bar.
“Vittorio?” Molly asked.
“Probably.”
“Your family communicates terribly.”
Gerardo laughed.
Actually laughed.
In the middle of gunfire.
“You find this funny?”
“No.”
“You’re laughing.”
“I like you.”
“That is not relevant.”
“It feels relevant.”
She glared.
Then the shooting stopped.
Gerardo’s men secured the street.
A brick had been thrown through the broken window.
Attached was a photograph.
Gerardo picked it up.
His face changed.
“What?”
He handed it to Molly.
The photograph showed an older woman leaving a grocery store.
On the back:
ASK YOUR MOTHER WHAT HAPPENED TO JAMES WARNER.
Gerardo stopped breathing.
Molly stared at him.
“Your mother.”
“Yes.”
“She’s alive.”
His hands shook.
Molly had never seen his hands shake.
“Where?”
Gerardo looked at the photograph.
“Connecticut.”
They left before sunrise.
The address led to a small house near the coast.
No guards.
No gates.
No luxury.
Gerardo stood at the front door for nearly a minute.
Molly remained beside him.
“You don’t have to come in,” he said.
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
“Because you came into my past with me.”
He looked at her.
Then knocked.
The door opened.
The woman on the other side was seventy.
Her hair was white.
Her eyes were Gerardo’s.
She dropped the mug in her hand.
“Gerardo?”
He became a twelve-year-old boy before Molly’s eyes.
“Mother.”
The woman covered her mouth.
Then she reached for him.
Gerardo did not move.
Not at first.
Twenty-eight years of grief stood between them.
Finally, he stepped forward.
His mother wrapped her arms around him.
Gerardo closed his eyes.
Molly looked away.
Some moments deserved privacy even when witnessed.
Later, inside the small house, Isabella Romani told them everything.
Salvatore had been violent.
Controlling.
When she tried to leave, Vittorio helped her disappear.
Not from kindness.
As leverage.
Vittorio used her survival to control Salvatore.
Years later, Isabella learned about James Warner.
She had discovered Salvatore planned to frighten James into surrendering the ledger.
Vittorio escalated it.
He ordered the fire.
“Why?” Molly asked.
Isabella looked at her with tears in her eyes.
“Because James had evidence against Vittorio too.”
Molly’s hands tightened.
“Did my father die immediately?”
Isabella shook her head.
“No.”
Molly stopped breathing.
“What?”
“He escaped the fire.”
Gerardo looked at his mother.
“Then how did he die?”
Isabella began crying.
“Vittorio found him outside.”
Molly knew before she heard the words.
“He shot him.”
“Yes.”
Molly stood abruptly.
She walked outside.
Gerardo followed but kept several feet between them.
The ocean stretched gray beneath the morning sky.
“My father survived the fire.”
“Yes.”
“He could have lived.”
Gerardo said nothing.
Molly wiped her face.
“I want Vittorio dead.”
Gerardo’s expression hardened.
“I know.”
“I want him to know why.”
“I know.”
“I want him afraid.”
Gerardo stepped closer.
“That is exactly what he wants.”
She turned.
“What?”
“He wants to make you like him.”
“Don’t.”
“Molly.”
“Don’t tell me to forgive him.”
“I would never insult you like that.”
“Then what?”
“Make him answer in daylight.”
She stared.
“Court?”
“Prison.”
“That’s not enough.”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because death lasts seconds.”
Gerardo’s voice was quiet.
“Exposure lasts longer.”
Molly looked toward the ocean.
May you like
For the first time, revenge and justice became two different things.
She hated that Gerardo was the person teaching her the difference.
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