Chapter 8 - The Lawyer Who Sold My FamilyRichard Vale lived in a glass house overlooking Lake Michigan.
He opened the door himself when I arrived, wearing a gray sweater and a carefully arranged expression of surprise.
“Dominic. You could have called.”
“I did.”
He stepped aside.
“What's this about?”
I walked into his living room and placed the forged transfer authorization on his coffee table.
“Explain these.”
He examined the page without touching it.
“I'll need time to review the records.”
“You've had twenty years.”
His expression barely changed.
Then Vincent entered behind me, locking the front door.
Richard understood immediately that this was no longer a business meeting.
“I've served your family faithfully for decades.”
“My brother is dead. My uncle is dead. My father is dead. Yet money continues moving through accounts connected to all three.”
Richard removed his glasses.
“Your uncle was a complicated man.”
“Apparently complicated enough to survive prison.”
For the first time, Richard's mask slipped.
He looked at me with naked hatred.
“You were never supposed to find out.”
The admission landed between us.
I slowly sat down.
“Start talking.”
Richard stared out at the lake.
“Your uncle built a network of informants and corrupt officials. Your father tolerated some of it. Alessandro wanted to destroy it. Matteo wanted revenge. Everyone believed they were saving the family, and everyone was prepared to kill to get what they wanted.”
“And you?”
“I wanted to survive.”
“So you helped Salvatore fake his death.”
Richard's silence was answer enough.
“Where is he?”
“I don't know.”
I stood.
“Try again.”
Richard's voice cracked.
“He contacted me through intermediaries. He said he had information about Alessandro's children. He threatened to expose my involvement in the financial network if I refused to cooperate.”
“You funded the school.”
“Yes.”
“You paid Matteo.”
“Yes.”
“You helped keep Gabriel hidden.”
Richard's expression changed.
“I didn't know Gabriel was Alessandro's son until two years ago.”
“But you knew someone was using the money to keep him away from me.”
He looked down.
“Yes.”
I wanted to strike him.
Instead, I asked the question that mattered.
“Where is Salvatore now?”
Richard hesitated.
Then he gave me an address.
An old hotel in Toronto, owned by a company that no longer existed.
Vincent photographed the documents while I continued questioning Richard.
“Why keep Lily alive?”
Richard's face went pale.
“Because she is the key.”
“To what?”
He swallowed.
“Alessandro left something with her mother. Something Salvatore never found.”
“What's something?”
“A recording.”
I remembered Maria's fear, her reluctance to speak, and the way she had watched the door during every conversation.
“Where is it?”
Richard shook his head.
“I don't know.”
I leaned forward.
“If you're lying to me, you will regret it.”
“I swear I don't know.”
I believed him.
Not because he was trustworthy, but because fear had stripped away the last traces of his professional composure.
A sound came from the hallway.
Vincent turned toward the staircase.
“Boss?”
Before I could answer, a gunshot shattered the window.
I dropped behind the sofa.
Vincent returned fire through the broken glass. Outside, a dark vehicle sped away from the curb.
Richard lay motionless beside the coffee table.
I rushed to him.
Blood spread across his sweater.
He struggled to breathe.
“Dominic,” he whispered.
“Who did this?”
Richard grabbed my wrist.
“Not Matteo.”
His eyes rolled toward the window.
“Salvatore... is coming home.”
Then his hand fell limp.
I stood over the body of the man who had betrayed my family and helped conceal my brother's murder.
The police would call it an assassination.
My enemies would call it a warning.
But the message was unmistakable.
Someone knew I was closing in.
And they were willing to kill anyone who helped me.
When I returned to the safe residence, Maria was waiting.
She looked at the blood on my cuff.
“What happened?”
“Richard Vale is dead.”
She closed her eyes.
“Then Salvatore knows.”
“He's alive, Maria. We have evidence.”
Her face crumpled.
For twenty years, she had lived in fear of a dead man.
Now the dead man was coming back.
She walked to a locked drawer and removed a tiny cassette recorder.
“I kept this because Alessandro told me never to destroy it.”
I stared at the device.
“Is this the recording?”
She nodded.
Then she pressed PLAY.
My brother's voice filled the room.
“If anything happens to me, the man responsible is not my uncle.”
A pause followed.
May you like
Then Alessandro spoke four words that I would never forget.
“It's my own father.”
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