Chapter 13 - The Prisoner Who Knew His Name
Richard finally talked.
Not because Damian threatened him.
Because somebody tried to poison him inside federal custody.
For the first time, Richard understood that his own allies considered him disposable.
He requested Damian.
They met through reinforced glass.
“Who ordered my father's death?” Damian asked.
Richard smiled weakly.
“Senator Nathaniel Cross.”
Damian frowned.
Cross had been a young prosecutor when Vittorio died.
Now he was one of the most influential political figures in Illinois.
“What did my father have on him?”
“Everything.”
Bribes.
Money laundering.
Protected businesses.
Judicial manipulation.
Richard had served as Cross's intermediary.
Vittorio discovered the operation and prepared to expose it.
Cross ordered him killed.
Then used Richard to manipulate the Costello-Pendleton war.
Damian stared through the glass.
“Why Clara?”
“She found Cross's name.”
“And Margaret?”
“She had the financial records.”
“Beatrice?”
Richard looked at him.
“Insurance.”
“What does that mean?”
“Vittorio put everything necessary to destroy Cross in Margaret's control.”
“Where?”
Richard smiled.
“Ask Bea why her mother always called her birthday song ‘the key.’”
Damian returned to the estate.
Beatrice listened.
Then remembered.
Every birthday, her mother played the same melody on an old music box.
The box was still among her belongings.
Inside its mechanism they found a tiny storage card.
It contained the complete archive.
Cross's payments.
Recorded conversations.
Orders.
Vittorio's murder.
Clara's kidnapping.
Everything.
Beatrice stared at the files.
“My mother had this the entire time.”
“She protected it.”
“And me.”
Damian nodded.
The evidence was enough.
But Cross knew they had it.
That night, national news broke the first allegations.
Cross denied everything.
Called the evidence fabricated.
Called Damian a criminal seeking revenge.
Damian refused to respond publicly.
Beatrice asked why.
“Because this isn't about winning an argument.”
“What is it about?”
“Making sure the truth survives.”
Copies went to multiple agencies and newspapers.
No single attack could erase it.
For once, Damian didn't solve a problem with violence.
He solved it by letting everyone see.
But Cross had one final weapon.
He released evidence of Damian's own crimes.
Businesses.
Payments.
Past violence.
The city turned on both men.
Damian looked at the television.
Bea stood beside him.
“What happens now?”
“I answer for what I did.”
She stared.
“You could run.”
“Yes.”
“You won't?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Damian looked at her.
“Because if I demand truth from everyone else, I don't get to hide from mine.”
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The next morning, Damian Costello voluntarily walked into federal court.
And Beatrice watched the doors close behind him.
