Chapter 6 - VINCENT’S LAST DINNER
Vincent invited me to dinner.
He knew.
Not everything.
Enough.
Same Italian restaurant we had used for twenty years.
Private room.
No weapons visible.
Old habits.
He poured wine.
“You look tired.”
“My brother’s alive.”
His hand stopped.
For one second.
Then continued.
“Jonathan.”
“No.”
I watched him.
“Don't insult me with surprise.”
He sat.
Silence.
Then:
“How much do you know?”
There.
Not denial.
I almost admired him.
“Enough.”
“Daniel was going to destroy everything.”
“He was going to expose you.”
“Same thing.”
That told me who Vincent had become.
Or always was.
He continued:
“The family survived because I made decisions your father was too sentimental to make.”
“You sold routes.”
“To stabilize alliances.”
“Men died.”
“Men always die.”
My jaw tightened.
“And Daniel?”
“He survived.”
“You drugged him for nine years.”
“I kept him alive.”
I laughed.
Actually laughed.
“You think that's mercy?”
Vincent leaned closer.
“You think your empire exists because you’re kinder than me?”
No.
That was the dangerous part.
He knew my history.
My compromises.
My crimes.
My own hypocrisy.
“You're right about one thing.”
He waited.
“I’m not innocent.”
Then:
“But Daniel’s not property.”
Vincent’s expression hardened.
“He would've brought federal attention to all of us.”
“And?”
“You would've gone down with me.”
“Maybe.”
He studied me.
“You'd sacrifice everything for him?”
I thought about Daniel in that wheelchair.
Lila’s coins.
Claire cleaning motel rooms.
Nine years.
“Yes.”
Vincent smiled sadly.
“That’s why you were always weaker.”
Maybe.
I stood.
He said:
“If I go down, a lot comes with me.”
“I know.”
“You included?”
“Possibly.”
He looked surprised.
For the first time that night, I saw fear.
Not because I threatened him.
Because I had stopped protecting myself from the truth.
That was something he could not negotiate with.
I left.
Behind me, Vincent said:
“You’ll regret this.”
May you like
Everyone always says that when they lose control of your choices.
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