Chapter 7 – THE AFTERMATH

Three weeks passed.

The Moretti estate transformed in ways I could never have imagined. The dark, oppressive curtains Lydia had favored were pulled back, letting sunlight flood the marble halls.

Rose officially annulled her marriage to Daniel, but they remained close friends. Daniel had taken over a small legitimate accounting firm downtown, finally free from the mob’s shadow.

Margaret moved into the master suite on the first floor. She spent her days in the sunroom, teaching Rose how to sew, their laughter drifting through the gardens.

And Dominic… Dominic was a different man.

He was still the feared head of the Chicago syndicate, but at 5:00 PM every day, he handed me his phone and sat on the floor of the library to build block towers with Sofia.

Elena had moved into the estate, too. She and Dominic were taking things slowly, rebuilding the trust Lydia had shattered. But the way he looked at her when she walked into a room told me a wedding wasn’t far off.

I sat at my new mahogany desk outside Dominic’s office, wearing a tailored navy suit instead of a black uniform. Maya had called me that morning, crying with joy because her tuition was fully paid.

Life was perfect.

Almost.

At noon on a Tuesday, the heavy oak doors of the estate swung open.

I looked up to see a man in a cheap, rumpled suit standing in the foyer. He looked nervous, clutching a battered leather briefcase.

“Can I help you?” I asked, stepping out from behind my desk.

“I need to see Dominic Moretti,” the man said, wiping sweat from his brow. “Tell him it’s about his mother.”

I froze. Dominic’s mother had died of an illness when he was ten. It was a subject nobody ever breached.

I knocked on Dominic’s door and stepped inside. He was reviewing a contract.

“Boss. There’s a man here. He says he has information about your mother.”

Dominic’s pen snapped in his hand.

He stood up instantly. “Send him in.”

The man walked in, trembling slightly under Dominic’s intense gaze.

“Mr. Moretti. My name is Arthur Vance. I’m a retired safety inspector for the city.”

“Why are you here, Mr. Vance?”

“Twenty-five years ago, I inspected the old steel mill on 5th Avenue. The one your family owned. The one where your mother supposedly contracted the lung disease that killed her.”

Dominic’s jaw tightened. “It was an asbestos leak. A tragic accident.”

Arthur Vance shook his head slowly. “No, sir. It wasn’t an accident.”

He opened his briefcase and pulled out a stack of heavily redacted documents.

“I found these in a storage unit left behind by Lydia Moretti’s former accountant. Lydia ordered the ventilation systems at the mill shut down specifically in the wing where your mother volunteered. She poisoned the air.”

The silence in the office was deafening.

Dominic didn’t yell. He didn’t throw anything. He just stared at the documents, his face turning to granite.

Lydia hadn’t just stolen his father, his daughter, and his cousin. She had murdered his mother.

“Why are you bringing this to me now?” Dominic asked, his voice dead flat.

“Because Lydia’s lawyer is filing an appeal today,” Vance said. “They’re claiming she was mentally unfit and trying to get her moved to a luxury psychiatric facility. If you submit these documents to the federal prosecutor, she’ll never see daylight again.”

Dominic took the papers.

“Nora,” he said softly.

“Yes, Dominic?”

“Get my car.”

We didn’t go to the prosecutor’s office.

We drove straight to the maximum-security federal holding facility.

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