Chapter 7 - Arthur Finally Told Him the Truth
The attorney’s name was Claire Bennett.
She came recommended by Evelyn, who asked only one question before giving me the number.
“Do you want someone polite or someone effective?”
“Effective.”
“Good.”
Claire was forty-two, wore navy suits, and had the unnerving habit of remaining silent until people filled the space with information they hadn’t intended to reveal.
I gave her the envelope.
She examined every page.
“You understand what this might be?”
“Evidence.”
“Or fabricated evidence.”
“Can you determine which?”
“Yes.”
“Without Nico?”
She looked over her glasses.
“You specifically want it done without him?”
“Yes.”
“Then yes.”
For the first time since leaving, I was handling part of Nico’s world without asking him to save me.
That mattered.
Claire contacted a forensic accountant.
The documents were compared against public records.
Some information could be verified.
Some couldn’t.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Bellini.
Arthur.
My stomach tightened.
I had always trusted him.
Two days later, I asked Arthur to meet me.
Not Nico.
Arthur.
We met at a quiet Italian restaurant before the dinner crowd arrived.
He looked older than I remembered.
“You look better,” he said.
“So do you.”
“I’m lying.”
“So am I.”
He smiled.
Then I placed copies of the documents on the table.
His smile disappeared.
“Where did you get these?”
“Salerno.”
Arthur read.
His face became unreadable.
“Does Nico know?”
“No.”
“You should tell him.”
“I’m telling you first.”
“Why?”
“Because your name is here.”
Arthur leaned back.
For a long moment, he looked toward the empty tables.
Then he said something I didn’t expect.
“I wondered when this would surface.”
My pulse accelerated.
“Is it real?”
“Parts.”
“What parts?”
“Enough.”
I waited.
Arthur rubbed a hand over his face.
“Years ago, before you met Nico, his father ran most of what became Nico’s organization.”
“I know.”
“No, Norah. You know the cleaned-up version.”
He told me about Carlo Moretti.
A ruthless man who believed affection created leverage.
Nico had grown up watching his father punish vulnerability.
His mother left when he was twelve.
Carlo told everyone she had abandoned the family.
The truth was more complicated.
“She tried to take Nico,” Arthur said. “Carlo stopped her.”
“How?”
Arthur’s expression closed.
“Legally at first. Then financially. He made leaving impossible.”
My stomach turned.
“And Nico knows?”
“Not everything.”
“Why?”
“Because by the time Carlo died, Nico worshipped and hated him in equal measure.”
Arthur looked down at the documents.
“The Halsted operation began under Carlo. When Nico took control, he shut down parts of it, kept others, cleaned some businesses, ignored others.”
“And your name?”
“I handled accounts.”
“So Salerno can prove crimes?”
“He can prove enough to create serious problems.”
I looked at him.
“Why tell me this?”
“Because Nico needs someone to stop protecting him from consequences.”
The sentence surprised me.
Arthur continued.
“I’ve spent fifteen years cleaning up after him.”
“You helped create him.”
“Yes.”
There was no defensiveness.
“I told myself loyalty meant making his life easier. Maybe I taught him the same mistake you made.”
That hurt because it was true.
“You heard what he said that night,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell him to come after me?”
“I did the opposite.”
“I know.”
Arthur looked at me.
“I should have told him the truth sooner.”
“What truth?”
“That he loved you.”
I went still.
Arthur smiled sadly.
“He would leave meetings because you had a migraine. He kept your favorite tea in offices you never visited. Every time something dangerous happened, his first question was whether anyone knew where you were.”
“That doesn’t excuse anything.”
“I know.”
“Love isn’t enough.”
“I know that too.”
“Then why tell me?”
“Because his greatest failure wasn’t that he felt nothing.”
Arthur leaned forward.
“It was that he felt everything and treated you as if feeling it made him weak.”
My eyes burned.
I hated that explanation because it made Nico human.
Anger was easier when he was simply cruel.
“What should I do with this evidence?”
Arthur’s face hardened.
“Give it to your lawyer.”
“Even if it hurts Nico?”
“Yes.”
“You’re his underboss.”
“I’m his friend.”
The distinction mattered.
That evening, Arthur returned to the penthouse.
Nico was waiting.
“You saw Norah.”
Arthur stopped.
“How do you know?”
“She called your private number from a café. You’re terrible at secrecy.”
“You promised not to track her.”
“I didn’t. I track you.”
Arthur almost smiled.
“Fair.”
“What did she want?”
“She’ll tell you if she chooses.”
Nico’s jaw tightened.
“Arthur.”
“No.”
The room changed.
Years earlier, Arthur might have backed down.
Not now.
“You want to become different?” Arthur said. “Then start here.”
Nico stared.
“She spoke to me privately. That belongs to her.”
Nico looked away.
“Is she in danger?”
“Potentially.”
That was enough.
Nico moved toward his phone.
Arthur stopped him.
“Sit down.”
“What?”
“Sit.”
Nobody told Nico Moretti to sit.
Arthur did.
And strangely, Nico obeyed.
Arthur poured two coffees.
Then he told him everything.
Salerno’s envelope.
The old records.
Halsted.
Carlo.
And finally, the fact that I had hired my own attorney instead of calling Nico.
That part hit hardest.
“She went to Bennett?”
“Yes.”
“Claire Bennett?”
“Yes.”
Nico knew the name.
Excellent attorney.
Aggressive.
Completely outside his influence.
He should have been furious.
Instead, pride slipped through before he could hide it.
“She chose well.”
Arthur noticed.
“You see?”
“What?”
“That’s who she always was.”
Nico’s expression changed.
“You just never gave her enough room to show you.”
Silence.
Arthur handed him one more document.
“What’s this?”
“Something I should have given you years ago.”
It was a letter.
Written by Nico’s mother.
Dated eighteen years earlier.
Nico recognized the handwriting immediately.
His face drained.
“Where did you get this?”
“Your father’s safe after he died.”
“You kept it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I was a coward.”
Nico unfolded it.
His mother had not abandoned him.
She had begged Carlo to let her see her son.
She had written repeatedly.
Carlo intercepted everything.
One paragraph destroyed something inside Nico.
Tell Nicolas I did not leave because I stopped loving him. I left because staying had made me disappear.
Nico lowered the letter.
The room blurred.
Arthur said nothing.
The parallel was too brutal to require explanation.
His mother.
Me.
Two women leaving Moretti men because love had become a room with no doors.
Nico sat there for a long time.
Then he whispered, “I became him.”
Arthur answered carefully.
“Not completely.”
“I became him.”
“You can still stop.”
Nico looked toward the bedroom.
He remembered my empty side of the closet.
The black card in the safe.
The old gray hoodie.
“What if it’s too late?”
Arthur sighed.
“For Norah?”
“Yes.”
“It might be.”
Nico closed his eyes.
Arthur continued.
“But becoming better only because you expect her as a reward is just another kind of transaction.”
That sentence changed something.
The next morning, Nico called his attorneys.
Not to suppress Salerno’s evidence.
Not to intimidate witnesses.
To examine every illegal or questionable operation still connected to his companies.
He wanted exits.
Closures.
Restitution where possible.
Compliance.
Arthur listened from the doorway.
When Nico finished, he asked, “You know this could cost you half of what you own.”
Nico looked down at his mother’s letter.
“Maybe more.”
“And you’re doing it anyway?”
Nico folded the letter carefully.
“For the first time in my life, I’m trying to own only things that don’t require me to become someone I hate.”
But Salerno was watching.
And when he discovered Nico was dismantling the very system that had protected him for years, he saw opportunity.
Not only to destroy Nico’s businesses.
May you like
To force me into the center of the collapse.
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