Chapter 10 - The Traitor at Il Destino
Il Destino was closed when they arrived.
The dining room looked completely different without guests.
No music.
No candlelight.
No murmured conversations.
Only overturned chairs and the hollow echo of footsteps.
Clara remembered kneeling beside Leo here less than forty-eight hours earlier.
It felt like another lifetime.
Rico brought only Dante and two trusted men.
Leo remained at the Moretti house with Mrs. Delaney, whom Clara trusted more than anyone else available.
Clara had argued about coming.
She won.
Again.
Rico no longer wasted much energy trying to stop her.
“Where's Marco?” she whispered.
Dante pointed toward the office.
Empty.
Rico found blood on the edge of a desk.
Not much.
Clara's face tightened.
“He could be hurt.”
“We search.”
The basement entrance sat behind the kitchen.
Rico had been down there hundreds of times.
Wine storage.
Dry goods.
Boiler systems.
Nothing unusual.
Until Dante noticed one wine rack had no dust beneath its wheels.
It moved.
Behind it was a steel door.
Rico stared.
“This has been in my building?”
Clara raised an eyebrow.
“You should really inspect your properties more often.”
He gave her a look.
“Not now.”
Dante found a keypad.
No code.
Clara examined the wall.
“Try Elena's death date.”
Rico looked sharply at her.
“Why?”
“Vincent likes messages.”
Rico entered it.
Denied.
Dante tried Vincent's birthday.
Denied.
Clara thought.
“What does he hate most?”
Rico stared at the keypad.
Then entered Rico's own birthday.
Green light.
The door opened.
Dante whistled.
“That's psychologically healthy.”
Beyond the door stretched a narrow corridor.
At the end, a room filled with filing cabinets, computers, cash ledgers, and surveillance equipment.
Rico stood in the doorway.
Years of betrayal.
Organized meticulously.
Vincent had documented everything.
Payments.
Bribes.
Fraud.
Hidden ownership.
Clara looked at surveillance screens.
Many showed areas of Il Destino.
One showed the dining room.
Another showed Rico's private office.
Another—
Clara stepped closer.
Her apartment building.
Her skin crawled.
“He watched me.”
Rico's expression turned dangerous.
Then one monitor flickered.
Marco appeared.
Live.
He was seated in another room.
Hands tied.
Face bruised.
Alive.
“Where is that?” Clara asked.
Dante checked the cameras.
“Somewhere below us.”
A speaker activated.
Vincent's voice filled the room.
“Welcome home, cousin.”
Rico looked upward.
“You're finished.”
“People have been telling me that since I was fifteen.”
“You took my son.”
“And returned him.”
“You threatened Elena.”
“She threatened everything I'd built.”
“You killed her.”
Long silence.
Then Vincent answered.
“I gave an order to stop her car.”
Clara held her breath.
Rico's fists tightened.
“Stop it how?”
“It went further than I intended.”
Rico's face became terrifyingly blank.
Vincent continued.
“You always think the world divides cleanly between your sins and everyone else's.”
“No.”
Rico's voice was quiet.
“I think Elena is dead and you're responsible.”
“That, cousin, is something we finally agree on.”
Dante looked toward Rico.
The confession was being recorded.
Rico knew.
Vincent likely knew too.
He had reached the stage where being understood mattered more than escape.
The speaker crackled.
“Come alone if you want Marco alive.”
Clara said immediately, “No.”
Rico looked at her.
“He won't kill Marco while Marco is leverage.”
“You don't know that.”
“I know Vincent.”
“That hasn't worked especially well so far.”
Rico flinched.
Clara regretted it.
But she didn't take it back.
Dante found another corridor.
They followed.
Marco's room sat behind reinforced glass.
Vincent stood beside him.
A gun rested in his hand.
Clara stayed behind the corner.
Rico stepped into view.
“Let him go.”
Vincent laughed.
“You care about waitstaff now?”
“I care about witnesses.”
Marco looked ashamed.
“Mr. Moretti—”
“Quiet.”
Marco closed his mouth.
Vincent looked at Rico.
“Still giving orders.”
“Last chance.”
“For what?”
“To walk out.”
Vincent smiled.
“And then?”
“You tell the truth.”
“To police?”
“Yes.”
That actually surprised him.
“You've changed.”
“My wife asked me to.”
“She always did believe in impossible projects.”
Rico's eyes hardened.
“You loved her.”
Vincent's expression shifted.
Clara understood before he answered.
Not romantic love.
Something darker.
Obsession with what Elena represented.
A person who saw through him.
A person Rico had earned affection from rather than fear.
Vincent looked away.
“She made you soft.”
“No.”
Rico shook his head.
“She made me human.”
Vincent's jaw tightened.
“And look what that cost you.”
Rico's voice remained calm.
“No. Look what being like you cost her.”
Vincent raised the gun.
Dante moved.
Rico lifted a hand.
“Don't.”
Vincent smiled.
“Still protecting everyone.”
“Put it down.”
“Why?”
“Because the police are upstairs.”
Vincent's eyes narrowed.
Rico continued.
“Every file here has already been copied.”
“You're bluffing.”
“Elena wasn't.”
Vincent stared.
For the first time, uncertainty appeared.
Rico stepped closer.
“You lost six months ago.”
“No.”
“You just didn't know it.”
Sirens became audible above them.
Vincent looked around.
His empire of secrets suddenly looked small.
Marco spoke.
“He's right.”
Vincent turned.
Marco's voice shook.
“You lost.”
Vincent struck him across the face.
Clara flinched.
That distraction was enough.
Dante moved.
The weapon hit the floor.
Two seconds later Vincent was pinned against the concrete wall.
No dramatic gunfight.
No revenge.
No execution.
Rico simply stood before the man responsible for destroying his family.
Vincent breathed hard.
“Do it.”
Rico looked at him.
“What?”
“Don't pretend.”
Vincent smiled bitterly.
“You've imagined killing me since you heard that recording.”
Rico didn't deny it.
“Do it.”
For several long seconds, everyone waited.
Then Rico stepped back.
“No.”
Vincent's face changed.
“No?”
“Elena asked me not to become you.”
Police entered the corridor.
Dante released Vincent to them.
As officers handcuffed him, Vincent looked almost insulted.
“You think this makes you better?”
Rico answered quietly.
“No.”
He looked toward Clara.
“It makes me a father.”
Vincent was taken away.
Marco was freed.
Outside, dawn began coloring the skyline.
Clara stood beside Rico on the empty sidewalk.
“It's over.”
Rico looked at the restaurant.
“No.”
“What now?”
He exhaled.
“Now everybody finds out who I am too.”
She understood.
The files didn't only implicate Vincent.
The Moretti organization had existed long before his betrayal.
Rico had choices to make.
Expensive ones.
Painful ones.
“You could run,” Clara said.
“Yes.”
“Will you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Rico looked toward Brooklyn.
“Leo believes Daddy always comes.”
Clara smiled faintly.
“And?”
“And I want him to keep believing things about me that are actually true.”
His phone rang.
Mrs. Delaney.
Rico answered immediately.
“Leo?”
A tiny voice came through.
“Daddy?”
Rico softened.
“I'm here.”
“Clara?”
Rico looked at her.
“She's here.”
“Come home.”
Rico looked at Clara again.
Neither said anything.
Leo repeated, “Come home.”
This time Clara heard the word differently.
Not the Moretti mansion.
Not a building.
Home had become whoever returned when a frightened child called.
May you like
And somehow, against every reasonable expectation, Leo had begun building one from the three of them.
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