Chapter 6 - The Last Debt
Anthony took Clara to an abandoned Gallo shipping terminal on the East River.
It was fitting.
Thirty years earlier, stolen money had moved through those warehouses.
Now Anthony intended to bury the final witness there.
Clara sat tied to a chair.
Her ribs screamed every time she breathed.
Anthony paced in front of her.
“You know what I never understood about your mother?”
Clara said nothing.
“She could've been rich.”
“She preferred being decent.”
Anthony laughed.
“Decency is what poor people call lack of opportunity.”
“My mother would've hated you.”
“She did.”
“Good.”
Anthony slapped her.
Pain flashed across her injured face.
Clara tasted blood.
“You really are Evelyn's daughter.”
“And you're exactly what she said.”
His smile disappeared.
“What did she say?”
Clara looked directly at him.
“That Vincent Gallo was twice the man you'll ever be.”
Anthony raised his hand again.
A voice came from behind him.
“She’s right.”
Dominic stood at the entrance.
Alone.
He carried the ledger.
Anthony smiled.
“My boy.”
“Don't call me that.”
“I raised you.”
“You murdered my father.”
“I made you stronger.”
“You threatened my mother.”
“I gave you an empire.”
“You tried to kill Clara.”
Anthony looked toward her.
“And here you are anyway.”
Dominic placed the ledger on a crate.
“Let her go.”
Anthony laughed.
“You still don't understand.”
“I understand enough.”
“No. You think this is about records.”
Anthony approached him.
“This is about inheritance.”
He explained how Vincent had planned to dismantle the criminal side of the Gallo empire.
Anthony believed that would make them weak.
So he killed his brother.
Then raised Dominic in his own image.
Or tried to.
“I made you feared,” Anthony said.
“You made me alone.”
For once, Anthony had no response.
Dominic looked at Clara.
Their eyes met.
He saw fear.
But also trust.
“Let her go.”
Anthony pointed his gun at Clara.
“The ledger first.”
Dominic pushed it across the floor.
Anthony picked it up.
Opened it.
His smile returned.
Then sirens sounded.
Anthony's face changed.
“What did you do?”
Dominic said nothing.
“You brought police?”
“No.”
Clara smiled despite her bleeding lip.
“I did.”
Anthony looked at her.
“My phone has been transmitting since Pier 14.”
She had hidden a tiny emergency tracker inside the lining of her sling.
Anthony raised the gun.
Dominic moved.
The gun fired.
Clara screamed.
Dominic struck Anthony before he could fire again.
The two men crashed into a stack of crates.
Anthony was older.
Dominic was stronger.
But Anthony fought like a desperate man who understood prison was waiting.
He reached for the fallen gun.
Dominic reached it first.
Anthony froze.
Dominic aimed at him.
For several seconds, neither moved.
“Do it,” Anthony whispered.
Dominic's finger rested against the trigger.
“You know you want to.”
Police flooded the warehouse.
Detective Bell shouted.
“Dominic! Put it down!”
Anthony smiled.
“He'll never understand you.”
Dominic looked at the man who had shaped so much of his life.
Then he lowered the gun.
“No.”
Anthony's smile vanished.
“You don't get to decide who I become anymore.”
Dominic stepped away.
Bell arrested Anthony Gallo at 1:47 A.M.
Charges followed quickly.
Attempted murder.
Kidnapping.
Conspiracy.
Financial crimes.
And eventually, the murder of Vincent Gallo.
The ledger exposed judges, executives, former police officers, and businessmen.
Dominic cooperated with investigators.
For the first time in decades, the Gallo empire began separating itself completely from the criminal world Anthony had protected.
But Dominic cared about only one thing that night.
Clara.
She sat in the back of an ambulance.
Again.
A paramedic examined her cheek.
Dominic approached.
She looked up.
“You're wet again.”
It had started raining.
Dominic almost laughed.
“You're impossible.”
“You keep saying that.”
“You were kidnapped.”
“Technically.”
“You antagonized the man holding you hostage.”
“He was irritating.”
“He hit you.”
“And now he's going to prison.”
Dominic sat beside her.
For a while neither spoke.
Then Clara noticed blood on his shirt.
Her face changed.
“Dominic.”
“It's nothing.”
“You've been shot.”
“Grazed.”
“Hospital.”
“No.”
“Hospital.”
“Clara—”
“That wasn't a suggestion.”
Twenty minutes later they were both back at St. Matthew's.
Nurse Rebecca recognized them.
“You two again?”
Clara pointed at Dominic.
“His fault.”
Dominic stared at her.
“My fault?”
Rebecca smiled.
“I’ll get the doctor.”
Hours later, dawn began appearing beyond the hospital windows.
Clara sat beside Dominic while a doctor finished dressing his wound.
When they were finally alone, Dominic said quietly:
“You could have died.”
“So could you.”
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
He looked at her.
“I don't know how to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Care about someone without trying to control everything around them.”
Clara's expression softened.
“You could start by asking instead of ordering.”
Dominic considered that.
“All right.”
He took a breath.
“Would you please stop nearly getting murdered?”
Clara smiled.
“I’ll consider it.”
He laughed.
A genuine laugh.
Then his expression became serious.
“There's something else.”
“What?”
“Quit.”
Her smile disappeared.
“What?”
“Quit working for me.”
“After everything I just did?”
“Exactly.”
She stared at him.
“Why?”
Dominic moved closer.
“Because every time I look at the desk outside my office now, I won't see my secretary.”
Clara's breathing changed.
“What will you see?”
He reached gently toward her bruised cheek but stopped before touching it.
“You.”
Clara's eyes filled.
Then Dominic's phone rang.
He ignored it.
It rang again.
Clara sighed.
“You should answer.”
“No.”
“It could be important.”
“Nothing is more important.”
She stared at him.
“That's dangerously close to being romantic.”
“I can take it back.”
“Don't.”
Dominic leaned closer.
But before either could move further, Detective Bell entered.
His expression erased the moment instantly.
“We have a problem.”
Dominic stood.
“What?”
Bell held up an evidence bag.
Inside was the original ledger.
“This isn't complete.”
Clara frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“Several pages were removed years ago.”
“About what?”
Bell handed Dominic a photocopy of the final surviving page.
One sentence had been written at the bottom.
If Anthony falls, the final account belongs to Clara Hayes.
Clara went pale.
“What does that mean?”
Bell looked at her.
“We don't know.”
Then he placed another document on the table.
A financial statement.
The number at the bottom made Clara stop breathing.
May you like
$86,400,000.
And every dollar was registered in her name.
