Chapter 9 - The Fall of an Empire
""What happened?"" I asked, looking up at Arthur as Clara helped me prop my pillows higher.
Arthur pulled up a wooden stool, his expression turning serious. ""While you were sleeping, Vincent and your tech team delivered Sterling’s personal hard drives directly to the United States Attorney for the Eastern District of New York. The fentanyl distribution logs, the kickbacks to corrupt city officials, and twenty years of Falcone syndicate racketeering records were broadcast on every major news channel at six o'clock this morning.""
A wave of grim satisfaction settled over me. ""And Falcone?""
""Carmine Falcone was arrested at Kennedy Airport trying to board a private jet to Zurich,"" Arthur said, shaking his head. ""The federal marshals threw him into solitary confinement at the federal lockup. He's facing three consecutive life sentences without the possibility of parole. His entire organization collapsed overnight like a house of cards.""
Clara handed me the mug of warm coffee, her fingers brushing mine. ""And what about you, Dante? When the federal prosecutors start digging into the waterfront, they're going to find your name.""
""No,"" I replied quietly. ""They won't.""
She looked at me, confused. ""How?""
""Before I walked into that foundry, I signed a blind irrevocable power of attorney,"" I explained, looking into her warm hazel eyes. ""Every shipping terminal, every legitimate real estate holding, and every asset Dante Moretti owned has been liquidated and placed into a charitable blind trust. The waterfront is being deeded to the city of New York for public development. St. Jude’s Memorial now has an independent forty-million-dollar endowment dedicated entirely to pediatric and emergency trauma care.""
Clara's jaw dropped. ""You gave away your empire?""
""It was never an empire, Clara,"" I said softly, reaching out to take her hand in mine, tracing the delicate bones of her fingers. ""It was a prison. I built those walls out of fear, revenge, and blood to make sure the boy in your barn would never be hurt again. But the moment I saw you in that emergency bay, I realized something. You didn't save Bucky fifteen years ago just so he could turn into another monster in a silk suit. You saved him because you believed he had a heart worth fighting for.""
Arthur stood up silently, wiping a stray tear from his weathered cheek, and slipped back up the stairs, closing the door behind him to give us privacy.
Clara looked down at our joined hands, her lip trembling. ""What happens to Don Moretti now?""
""Don Moretti died in the Queens foundry,"" I whispered. ""The papers will report that his body was lost in the industrial fire at Newtown Creek. The police found enough blood and shattered glass on the floor to close the file forever.""
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""And what about Bucky?"" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, looking up at me with hope blazing in her eyes.
""That depends,"" I smiled faintly, reaching under the pillow and pulling out the dented silver mint tin. I popped the lid and placed the faded pencil sketch of the boy on the hay bale into her hands. ""Does the girl with the broken glasses still need someone to build bridges for her?""
