Chapter 13 - WHY SHE CHOSE ME
The truth was uglier than humiliation.
Vanessa hadn’t requested me because she liked having someone poor to insult.
That was just a bonus.
She had recognized my last name on the first delivery.
Then she saw the key.
She told Salvatore.
They needed to know whether I understood what it opened.
So Vanessa kept bringing me back.
Watching.
Testing.
Pushing.
Waiting to see whether I reacted when she mentioned my family.
“She wanted me angry,” I said.
Dominic nodded.
“Angry people reveal things.”
I felt sick.
“All those nights…”
“She was investigating you.”
“I bought gloves.”
Dominic looked confused.
“What?”
“She told me my hands were disgusting, so I bought gloves.”
The stupid detail broke me.
I started laughing.
Then crying.
“I spent twelve dollars on gloves because a psychopath was secretly trying to find evidence my dead father hid.”
Dominic sat beside me.
For once, he didn’t say anything.
Good.
I didn’t need wisdom.
I needed someone to sit there while the absurdity of my life hit me.
Eventually I wiped my face.
“So what happens now?”
“With Salvatore?”
“With you.”
He looked toward the window.
The government had enough evidence to dismantle most of the criminal side of his family’s empire.
Some of Dominic’s businesses were being investigated.
Accounts frozen.
Partners running.
News trucks outside his properties.
For the first time, Dominic Moretti looked tired.
“I cooperate.”
“You go to prison?”
“Maybe.”
I studied him.
“You’re okay with that?”
“No.”
At least he was honest.
“But I’m done pretending consequences are only for other people.”
I thought about Dad.
He would have liked that sentence.
Maybe.
“You knew about crimes,” I said.
“Yes.”
“You participated?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
My stomach tightened.
“What kind?”
“Extortion. Illegal gambling. Bribery.”
“Did you kill anyone?”
He looked directly at me.
“Yes.”
The room went cold.
I stood.
He didn’t stop me.
“Why would you tell me that?”
“Because you said no more secrets.”
I wanted to hate him.
Part of me did.
Maybe part of me always would.
“Was it self-defense?”
“Sometimes.”
“And the other times?”
His silence was enough.
I walked to the door.
“Avery.”
I stopped.
“I’m sorry.”
“For my father?”
“For all of it.”
I left.
Two weeks later, I returned to delivering food.
People thought that was strange.
After everything, why go back?
Because rent still existed.
Dialysis still existed.
Life doesn’t stop being expensive because your family tragedy makes the news.
But things were different.
A federal victims’ fund helped Mom with medical expenses.
Dad’s union settlement was reopened.
The company owed us eight years of denied compensation.
For the first time, I had breathing room.
Then one night, I got an order.
Lake Forest.
My finger hovered over DECLINE.
Then I saw the address.
The Moretti estate.
I almost laughed.
Preferred driver requested.
“No way.”
I declined.
The order appeared again.
Higher payout.
I declined.
Again.
Higher.
I called the restaurant.
“Tell whoever keeps doing this to stop.”
The manager sounded nervous.
“Avery, the customer says it’s important.”
“Of course he does.”
I accepted.
Forty minutes later, I stood at the Moretti gates.
No Vanessa.
No party.
No sixty strangers.
May you like
Just Dominic waiting outside in the cold.
And beside him was my father’s old pickup truck.
