Chapter 6 - DEREK'S CONFESSION
Amelia refused to meet Derek alone.
Detective Russo approved.
Vincent did not.
That meant she went.
Derek looked nothing like the man who punched her.
His left eye was purple.
One hand was bandaged.
He sat in an interview room with a lawyer beside him.
When Amelia entered, he lowered his eyes.
She remained standing.
“You wanted me.”
Derek swallowed.
“I wanted to apologize.”
“No.”
He looked up.
“No?”
“You wanted something.”
Derek glanced at Russo.
Then Vincent through the glass.
“Protection.”
Amelia almost laughed.
“From who?”
“Moretti.”
“You work for him.”
“Not anymore.”
“What happened?”
Derek looked ashamed.
“I screwed up.”
“At the diner?”
“That too.”
Amelia’s hands tightened.
Derek continued.
“Marco sent me to identify you. That was all.”
“So hitting me was your own creative contribution.”
He looked down.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you embarrassed me.”
Silence.
The honesty disgusted her more than an excuse would have.
“You hit a woman unconscious because she asked you to leave a diner.”
“Yes.”
“And afterward you laughed.”
Derek's eyes filled.
“I was drunk.”
“Alcohol didn't create you.”
He flinched.
Good.
She continued.
“What do you know?”
Derek explained that Raymond had been searching for Amelia because Moretti believed she might possess records tying Raymond to Moretti finances.
For years Raymond insisted she knew nothing.
Then a former landlord contacted him after seeing Amelia near Castellano’s in a social media photograph posted by a tourist.
One background image.
That was all it took.
Derek had been sent to confirm.
“After the recordings went federal, Marco blamed Raymond.”
“What does that have to do with you?”
“He blamed me for making Castellano notice her.”
Vincent watched through the glass.
Derek continued.
“Marco is leaving.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“You said you had information.”
“I know who is helping him.”
“Who?”
Derek looked through the glass toward Vincent.
“One of Castellano's people.”
Amelia turned.
Vincent's expression did not move.
“Name.”
Derek hesitated.
“Luca Castellano.”
Vincent entered the room so quickly Russo stepped between them.
Luca was Vincent's cousin.
More than that.
His closest lieutenant.
They had grown up together.
“You're lying.”
Derek raised his hands.
“He gave Marco access to shipping schedules and properties.”
“Why?”
“Money.”
Vincent looked ready to explode.
Amelia stepped between him and Derek.
“Vincent.”
“Move.”
“No.”
His eyes moved to hers.
“Don't.”
“Amelia.”
“He gave us a name. Check it.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“Don't decide what happens because you're angry.”
Those words reached him.
Barely.
But they did.
Vincent walked out.
The investigation confirmed it within twenty-four hours.
Luca had been selling information to the Moretti organization for fourteen months.
Not because he hated Vincent.
Because he believed Vincent had become weak.
Too legitimate.
Too cautious.
Too willing to allow police and courts into matters traditionally handled “inside the family.”
Luca wanted the old Castellano organization back.
Vincent confronted him privately.
Amelia never learned exactly what they said.
She only knew Luca walked out alive.
And Vincent gave federal investigators the evidence.
It shocked nearly everyone in his circle.
Tony understood.
“You're really done.”
Vincent looked at him.
“With what?”
“The old rules.”
Vincent thought about it.
“Yes.”
That decision had consequences.
Some longtime associates left.
Others called him weak.
Rumors spread that Vincent Castellano had lost his nerve.
Then something unexpected happened.
Business improved.
Legitimate partners who previously avoided him began taking meetings.
Banks became less suspicious.
Construction bids expanded.
Fear had given Vincent power.
But fear had also put a ceiling over everything he touched.
Amelia watched the transformation from a distance.
Her own life was changing too.
She returned to work.
The first shift terrified her.
When a large man walked quickly toward her table, she nearly dropped a pot of coffee.
He only wanted more sugar.
Amelia went to the bathroom.
She stared into the mirror.
Touched her scar.
Stopped.
“No.”
She lowered her hand.
That night, Vincent sat at the counter.
Same seat.
Black coffee.
No sugar.
“You've been here four hours,” she said.
“Food is good.”
“You ate two eggs.”
“Slow eater.”
“You're babysitting me.”
“No.”
“Vincent.”
He looked offended.
“Fine.”
She placed the check in front of him.
“You're banned tomorrow.”
“What?”
“I don't need you sitting there watching the door.”
“I like the door.”
“You own other doors.”
He looked at her.
“What if something happens?”
“I handle it.”
“And if you can't?”
“I ask.”
That was the rule she wanted.
Not rescue before consent.
Help when requested.
Vincent finally nodded.
“Tomorrow I don't come.”
“Thank you.”
The next night he didn't.
Amelia hated how much she noticed.
Near closing, she found an envelope tucked beneath the register.
No threat.
No photograph.
Only an address and a time.
Underneath:
IF YOU WANT THIS TO END, COME ALONE.
RAYMOND.
Amelia stared at it.
Three years earlier, she would have obeyed because Raymond told her to.
Now she did something different.
She photographed it.
Sent it to Russo.
Then sent it to Vincent.
His response came immediately.
DO NOT GO.
Amelia smiled despite herself.
She typed:
Wrong answer.
Three dots appeared.
Then:
What do you want to do?
Better.
She replied:
May you like
I want to end this.
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