Chapter 16 - The King Who Walked Away
Leaving power proved harder than obtaining it.
Rico learned that quickly.
Men who had spent years calling him boss suddenly questioned every instruction.
Older members of the Moretti organization arrived at his home furious.
“You can't shut down what your grandfather built.”
Rico sat behind his desk.
“Yes, I can.”
“Vincent betrayed us. That doesn't mean the family is wrong.”
“The family isn't wrong.”
Rico looked toward the ceiling, where Leo was playing.
“The business is.”
The older man stared.
“You sound like Elena.”
“People keep saying that.”
“It isn't a compliment.”
“To me it is.”
Some accepted buyouts.
Others moved elsewhere.
Several legitimate Moretti companies survived.
Restaurants.
Construction.
Real estate.
Shipping services cleaned of hidden operations.
Rico sold assets to settle fines and legal costs.
Federal prosecutors eventually offered a cooperation agreement.
Rico would plead to financial and regulatory charges connected to companies he controlled.
No evidence supported Vincent's claim that Rico ordered Elena's death.
The smartwatch recording and Vincent's own statements devastated that narrative.
Rico still faced consequences.
Probation.
Massive financial penalties.
Business restrictions.
Thousands of hours of lawyers.
Clara considered that fair.
Rico did too.
One evening, they stood inside his nearly empty office.
Workers carried boxes out.
“You okay?” she asked.
Rico looked at the walls.
“My grandfather sat here.”
“And?”
“My father.”
“And?”
“I thought Leo would someday.”
Clara stood beside him.
“Does that make you sad?”
He considered.
“No.”
“Good.”
“Just strange.”
“You spent your whole life climbing a staircase and then realized it led somewhere you didn't want your son to go.”
Rico looked at her.
“Where do you get these sentences?”
“Community college.”
He laughed.
They had been dating for three months.
Slowly.
By Rico's standards, painfully slowly.
He had taken her to restaurants he didn't own.
They went walking.
To museums.
Once to a bowling alley where Rico proved completely incapable of accepting an eight-year-old in the next lane beating him.
Clara had never laughed harder.
Leo improved too.
His vocabulary returned rapidly.
The screaming episodes became less frequent.
He started seeing a child therapist.
At first he refused to enter without Clara.
Then without Rico.
Eventually, he could go inside alone.
The first time he did, Rico stood in the hallway as though sending his son to war.
Clara nudged him.
“He's coloring.”
“I know.”
“You look terrified.”
“I am.”
“Good.”
“Why is everything good to you?”
“Because you're feeling things instead of ordering them arrested.”
He kissed her.
Leo emerged five minutes later holding a picture.
“My family.”
Three people.
And a fourth.
Elena.
Clara's heart stopped.
Leo pointed.
“Mommy angel.”
Rico crouched.
“She's part of the family?”
Leo nodded.
Then pointed to Clara.
“Clara family.”
Clara swallowed.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Children could be devastatingly certain about things adults complicated.
A month later, Rico sold the Moretti mansion.
Clara was shocked.
“You sold it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Too big.”
“I've been telling you that.”
“I know.”
“Where are you moving?”
“Brooklyn.”
“You're already in Brooklyn.”
“Different part.”
“What part?”
He gave her an address.
Clara stared.
“That is three blocks from me.”
“Yes.”
“You bought a house near my apartment?”
“Yes.”
“Without asking me?”
“I didn't buy you a house.”
“You bought proximity.”
“Is that illegal?”
“With you, probably.”
The new home had four bedrooms.
A small yard.
A kitchen Rico actually intended to use.
No gates.
Minimal security.
Normal neighbors.
The first night there, Leo ran from room to room.
“My room!”
“Yes.”
“Clara room!”
Rico nearly choked.
Clara said, “There is no Clara room.”
Leo pointed to the guest room.
“Clara room.”
Rico looked at her innocently.
“I had nothing to do with that.”
“You absolutely did.”
“I labeled it guest room.”
Leo pulled a paper sign from behind his back.
CLARA.
Her name was backward.
Clara laughed.
“You made this?”
“Yes.”
Rico said, “Spelling needs work.”
Clara kissed Leo's forehead.
“I'll visit.”
Leo looked at her.
“Sleep here?”
“Sometimes.”
Rico coughed.
Clara glared.
“You are enjoying this too much.”
“Immensely.”
But she did stay that night.
In the guest room.
Rico made no argument.
He had learned boundaries.
Mostly.
At two in the morning, Clara woke to soft footsteps.
Her door opened.
Leo entered holding his blanket.
“Bad dream?”
He nodded.
She moved aside.
He climbed in.
Ten minutes later another figure appeared at the doorway.
Rico.
“He's here?”
“Yes.”
“I checked his room.”
Clara lifted the blanket.
“You want to join the sleepover?”
Rico raised an eyebrow.
“In a twin bed?”
“Your expensive furniture choices are finally punishing you.”
He sat on the floor beside the bed instead.
Leo reached one hand down.
Rico took it.
Clara watched.
Six months earlier, Rico Moretti would have considered sleeping on the floor beneath anyone.
Tonight, he rested his back against the bed and closed his eyes.
At seven, Clara woke and found Rico still there.
Leo was sprawled sideways.
One foot against Clara's ribs.
She looked down at Rico.
“Comfortable?”
“No.”
“Regrets?”
He opened one eye.
“None.”
The criminal organization his grandfather built was almost gone.
The mansion was gone.
Much of the money was gone.
Men who once stood when Rico entered rooms now ignored his calls.
But when Leo woke, he climbed directly into his father's lap.
“Pancakes.”
Rico groaned.
“Blue?”
“Yes.”
Clara smiled.
Rico looked around the modest guest room.
Then at his son.
Then at her.
He finally understood.
He had not walked away from a kingdom.
He had walked toward one.
May you like
It simply looked nothing like the kingdom he had been taught to want.
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