Chapter 8 - The Woman Who Refused to Run
Amelia spent nine hours in a federal interview room.
Not a cell.
Raymond had exaggerated the warrant.
There was none.
Investigators had questions.
Many.
The shell companies were real.
The signatures were real.
Some belonged to Amelia.
Others did not.
Her attorney, Evelyn Ross, sat beside her and stopped the interview whenever agents became aggressive.
Vincent had hired Evelyn.
Amelia almost refused on principle.
Then Evelyn walked into the room and said, “Mr. Castellano is paying the first hour. After that, if you choose to keep me, I work for you and only you.”
Amelia liked her immediately.
By evening, federal investigators had seen enough of the flash drive to understand that Amelia was more likely witness than architect.
Evelyn advised turning over a forensic copy.
Amelia agreed.
The original remained hers.
When she walked outside after dark, Vincent was waiting across the street.
Alone.
He had been there nine hours.
Amelia approached.
“You didn’t have to stay.”
“I know.”
“Why did you?”
“You said you were done having people decide where you went.”
“So?”
“I wanted you to know somebody would be here when you chose to come out.”
She looked away.
That was unfairly effective.
“How bad is it?” he asked.
“For Raymond?”
“Yes.”
“Bad.”
“For Salvatore?”
“Worse.”
Vincent nodded.
“And me?”
Amelia looked at him.
The drive contained Castellano crimes too.
Older operations.
Payoffs.
Protection money.
Things Vincent had inherited even if he had not created all of them.
“I don’t know.”
He accepted that.
“You could be investigated.”
“Yes.”
“Charged.”
“Possibly.”
“And you still wanted me to turn over the drive.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
His answer came quickly.
“Because my father died trying to protect what was on it.”
“That’s not the only reason.”
“No.”
She waited.
Vincent looked toward the courthouse windows.
“My father wanted me to change the family.”
“From what?”
“You know.”
“Say it.”
He smiled bitterly.
“Crime.”
Amelia folded her arms.
“He was a Mafia boss.”
“Yes.”
“So are you.”
“Yes.”
“You expect me to believe Anthony suddenly wanted everyone legitimate?”
“No.”
Vincent considered his words.
“My father was not a good man by ordinary standards.”
“That’s refreshingly honest.”
“He was also better than the world he built.”
Amelia understood contradictions.
She had loved Raymond once.
That truth did not disappear because he became monstrous.
People could contain opposing things.
“He wanted out?”
“Slowly.”
“And Salvatore didn’t.”
“No.”
Vincent looked at her.
“My father moved more businesses legitimate every year. Salvatore saw that as weakness.”
“And Gabriel?”
“My brother agreed with Salvatore.”
Amelia understood the tragedy.
“Until they killed him.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
They walked toward the car.
Then Vincent stopped.
“Amelia.”
“What?”
“I owe you another truth.”
Her stomach sank.
“I’m getting tired of those.”
“I know.”
“What?”
“Salvatore called a family meeting tonight.”
“Meaning?”
“He wants me removed.”
“As boss?”
“Yes.”
“Can he?”
“If enough captains support him.”
“Do they?”
“Some.”
“And what happens if they remove you?”
Vincent looked at her.
“Depends whether I leave voluntarily.”
The answer chilled her.
“Will you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Salvatore will come after you next.”
Her anger returned immediately.
“Don’t.”
Vincent looked confused.
“Don’t make this decision about protecting me.”
“I’m not.”
“You literally just did.”
He exhaled.
“You’re right.”
She waited.
He corrected himself.
“I will not leave because Salvatore murdered my father and brother, stole from my family, corrupted our businesses, and turned people around me into targets.”
“Better.”
Vincent almost smiled.
“Your standards are exhausting.”
“My standards involve basic autonomy.”
“Exactly.”
At the family meeting, Amelia was not invited.
She came anyway.
Vincent stared when she entered the private room above one of the Castellano restaurants.
Twenty men sat around a long table.
Salvatore at the far end.
He was sixty-three, elegant, silver-haired, and warm-eyed.
Amelia instantly understood why people trusted him.
“Ms. Hart.”
“Mr. Castellano.”
Salvatore smiled.
“Which one?”
Nobody laughed.
Vincent stood beside her.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
She glanced at him.
“Careful.”
His mouth closed.
Salvatore noticed.
Interesting.
“You have my brother’s files,” Salvatore said.
“Anthony’s files.”
“He was my brother.”
“And Vincent’s father.”
Salvatore leaned back.
“What do you want?”
Amelia looked around the table.
“Nothing from you.”
“Then why come?”
“Because half the men in this room are wondering whether Vincent is going to destroy their lives to settle a family grudge.”
Nobody moved.
Vincent watched her carefully.
Amelia continued.
“The federal government has copies of Raymond Fletcher’s records.”
Silence.
Several men shifted.
Salvatore’s smile faded.
“What records?”
“All of them.”
That was a lie.
But nobody knew.
“One thing is very clear. Anthony Castellano was murdered because he discovered financial theft inside his own organization.”
Salvatore said quietly, “That is an accusation.”
“Yes.”
“You have proof?”
“Enough.”
Vincent’s uncle looked toward him.
“You brought a civilian into family business?”
“No,” Amelia said.
“I brought myself.”
A few men almost smiled.
Salvatore’s patience cracked.
“You have no idea where you are.”
Amelia held his gaze.
“I spent six years living with Raymond Fletcher.”
That surprised them.
“You think this room scares me more than a man who practiced smiling before he broke my ribs?”
Vincent’s head turned sharply.
She had never told him that.
Salvatore noticed.
Amelia continued before anyone could react.
“Anthony understood something none of you seem to.”
The room remained silent.
“The biggest threat to your family wasn’t law enforcement. It wasn’t rivals.”
She looked directly at Salvatore.
“It was men who believed loyalty meant nobody could question them.”
Salvatore stood.
Vincent moved instantly.
So did half the room.
Amelia did not move.
Salvatore stared at her.
Then at Vincent.
“You choose her over blood?”
Vincent’s answer was calm.
“I choose the truth over a murderer.”
The room exploded in voices.
Salvatore slammed his hand on the table.
“You have no proof I killed Anthony.”
A voice near the doorway answered.
“Yes, he does.”
Everyone turned.
Derek Lawson stood there.
Bruised.
One eye swollen.
Nikki beside him.
And in Derek’s hand was a phone.
“I recorded Raymond telling me who ordered the hit.”
Salvatore’s face changed.
Derek smiled painfully.
“Turns out being disposable makes a man very cooperative.”
The balance in the room shifted.
Not dramatically.
Not completely.
But enough.
Salvatore looked around and realized men who had avoided Vincent’s eyes were now avoiding his.
For the first time in decades, Salvatore Castellano was losing control.
May you like
Then the lights went out.
And someone fired a gun.
