Chapter 17 - LEONARD VANDERMARK’S LAST OFFER
Leonard did not beg.
Men like him rarely do.
They negotiate.
Even in handcuffs.
Especially in handcuffs.
As federal agents moved him toward the church doors, he asked to speak with me privately.
I refused.
He laughed.
“Still performing for the room?”
“I’m done performing.”
“Then listen.”
He leaned closer.
“You hand over those ledgers, and your family keeps what it has.”
“My family already lost enough.”
“You think prosecutors will only read my pages?”
He smiled.
“They’ll read yours.”
“I know.”
That wiped the smile away.
“You’re willing to destroy your father’s name?”
“He handled that himself.”
“Your company?”
“If necessary.”
“Your organization?”
I looked at him.
“Yes.”
For the first time Leonard seemed unsure of me.
Powerful men understand greed.
They understand fear.
They understand self-preservation.
What they struggle to understand is a man who has already accepted the price.
“You’re bluffing.”
“No.”
“You’re a Moretti.”
“Exactly.”
I leaned closer.
“And I’ve seen what protecting that name did to my family.”
Leonard’s eyes hardened.
“Ewan betrayed your father.”
“No.”
I looked toward my brother.
“My father betrayed Ewan.”
Leonard laughed again.
“Such morality.”
He shook his head.
“From you.”
That one landed.
Because I had spent years doing things I would never explain in a church.
I had threatened men.
Ruined men.
Made people disappear from the city without asking whether they deserved another chance.
Ray Calder had been the exception.
Maybe that was why I had remembered him.
Some part of me had already been tired.
Leonard whispered, “You think telling the truth makes you better?”
“No.”
I stepped away.
“It just stops making me worse.”
Agents took him outside.
Celeste remained near the altar.
She had not been handcuffed yet.
One investigator wanted her to keep talking.
She walked toward me.
Mascara had begun to run beneath one eye.
“You never loved me.”
I considered lying.
Instead I said, “I tried.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It’s the only one you earned.”
Her mouth trembled.
“My father made me go to Pier 44.”
“You were twenty-three.”
“You don’t understand him.”
“I understand fathers who make their children afraid.”
“Then you understand me.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“I understand Ewan.”
She looked toward him.
“I didn’t know he would survive.”
“That sentence doesn’t help you.”
“I was scared.”
“So was he.”
“I made one mistake.”
Delia stepped closer.
“One?”
Celeste looked at her.
For the first time since the conservatory, they stood face to face.
Delia’s bandage was still visible.
Celeste lowered her voice.
“I’m sorry.”
Delia stared at her.
Then she said, “You’re not sorry you hurt me.”
Celeste’s eyes dropped.
“You’re sorry he saw you.”
No one spoke.
That was exactly the truth.
The agents approached.
Celeste held out her hands.
Before they took her away, she looked back at me.
“My father has copies of everything.”
“Good.”
She frowned.
“Why good?”
“Because tomorrow morning, every federal office involved will have copies too.”
Her face changed.
She finally understood.
I wasn’t trying to win my father’s game.
May you like
I was ending it.
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