Chapter 9 - The Debt Repaid
I opened the folder. Inside were official deeds, corporate stock certificates, and banking routing confirmations from the probate court.
Every single asset owned by the Kensington Financial Trust had been liquidated under the federal victims' restitution statutes. Because my father had been the primary victim of their corporate fraud, the court had awarded his surviving heirs the full recovery of their siphoned estate.
The total at the bottom of the bank confirmation was staggering: Twenty-four million dollars.
""This... this is a mistake,"" I stammered, looking up at Vincent in utter disbelief. ""This is tens of millions of dollars. I can't accept this.""
""That money was stolen by using your father’s murder to cover up their embezzlement,"" Vincent said without hesitation. ""It belongs to you and your sister. Your sister’s medical school tuition in Boston is fully paid for, your family home in Lincoln Park has been repurchased from foreclosure, and you will never have to answer to anyone for the rest of your life.""
I stared at the paperwork, feeling the crushing, suffocating weight that had pressed down on my shoulders for three long years finally lift away into nothingness. I was free. Truly, completely free.
""And my debt to you?"" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. ""The ten-year servitude contract?""
Vincent reached into his inner pocket, pulled out the original yellowed contract I had signed in tears three years ago, and held it between us. With a swift, deliberate motion, he tore the paper in half, then into quarters, and dropped the shreds into the fireplace where they curled into black ash.
""You never owed me anything, Penelope,"" Vincent said, his voice deep and rough with an emotion he rarely allowed anyone to see. ""If anything, I owe you my life.""
He stood up, walking toward the large panoramic windows overlooking the sunlit lake. The fierce mafia boss who had kicked down my door two days ago seemed suddenly hesitant, almost vulnerable.
""You're a multi-millionaire now,"" Vincent said, keeping his back turned to me. ""You can take your sister, buy an estate in Europe, finish your doctorate, and never set foot in Chicago again. You can leave the blood, the crime, and the Castellano name behind forever.""
I stood up from the chair. My ankle was still stiff, but I didn't limp as I walked across the Persian rug to stand directly beside him at the window.
""Is that what you want me to do, Vincent?"" I asked softly, searching his profile.
May you like
Vincent turned his head to look at me. The ruthless don of the Chicago underworld looked at me with an intensity that made my heart race faster than any gun battle ever could.
""No,"" he confessed, his voice dropping into a raw, honest whisper. ""Selfishly, Penelope, it’s the last thing on earth I want.""
