Chapter 8 - When the Music Turns Deadly
The rain turned into a blinding snowstorm as Garrison walked through the ruined entrance of Salvatore Moretti’s estate.
He was not wearing body armor. He wore a simple black suit, his coat open, his posture completely relaxed. Beside him walked federal agents carrying search warrants authorized by the Attorney General, backed by fifty of Garrison’s most elite men.
Moretti sat trapped at his dining table, his guards disarmed and pinned against the marble floor, his wine glass trembling in his age-spotted hand.
""How?"" Moretti choked out, staring at Garrison as if looking at a ghost returned from the grave. ""The vault was airtight!""
Garrison walked to the table, pulled out a high-backed mahogany chair, and sat down opposite his rival. He placed Clara’s journal and the miniature micro-drive on the white tablecloth, sliding them across the porcelain plates until they tapped against Moretti’s glass.
""My sister was twenty-one years old, Salvatore,"" Garrison said, his voice flat, level, and far more terrifying than any scream. ""She had never held a weapon. She had never harmed an animal. You ordered three men to ambush her car because she had more honor in her little finger than you possessed in fifty years of running this city.""
Moretti glanced frantically at the federal agents standing at the doorway with tactical gear. ""I have contacts in Washington! You can't touch me! My lawyers will have these warrants thrown out by midnight!""
""Your lawyers won't make it to midnight,"" a quiet, firm voice spoke from the doorway.
Meline stepped into the dining room. She was pale, her dark hair dusted with melting snowflakes, but her chin was held high. In her hands, she carried the original manuscript page—the one found inside the piano.
""My mother lost four years of her life because of your greed,"" Meline said, looking down at the shivering crime lord with eyes that showed no fear, only deep, righteous sorrow. ""You made her think she was crazy. You made her hide in dark rooms, scribbling notes she was terrified to finish. But she finished it, Mr. Moretti. The song ended. And you are the final note.""
The federal team moved in. Handcuffs clicked shut around Salvatore Moretti’s wrists. The federal prosecutor took the journal, nodded respectfully to Garrison, and escorted the ruined kingpin out into the freezing night.
As the sirens faded down the long, snow-covered driveway, Garrison stood up. He walked over to Meline, looking down at her under the soft glow of the chandelier.
""It's over,"" she whispered, her voice finally breaking as the weight of the last month crashed over her.
May you like
Garrison reached out and pulled her gently against his chest. His arms wrapped around her small frame, shielding her from the cold wind howling through the broken wall.
""Not over, Meline,"" he murmured into her hair. ""Just finally beginning.""
