Chapter 8 - THE WAR VINCENT REFUSED TO FIGHT
Raymond’s arrest should have ended things.
Instead, Marco Moretti became desperate.
Federal raids had frozen accounts.
Luca's cooperation exposed property holdings.
Derek had entered negotiations with prosecutors.
The Moretti organization was collapsing.
Marco blamed Vincent.
Old Vincent would have accepted that blame proudly.
New Vincent found it exhausting.
Then one morning somebody fired three bullets through the front windows of Castellano's before opening.
Nobody was inside.
One bullet struck the jukebox.
Another destroyed the coffee machine.
The third lodged in the framed photograph of Vincent's father.
Tony called at 5:12 a.m.
By 5:30, Vincent was standing amid broken glass.
His men expected an order.
He knew what order they wanted.
Names.
Addresses.
Retaliation.
Vincent stared at his father's damaged photograph.
His younger brother appeared in his memory.
Twenty-two years old.
Closed casket.
He turned toward his men.
“Everyone goes home.”
Silence.
One said:
“Boss?”
“Police are handling it.”
The room changed.
“You can't be serious.”
“I am.”
“Moretti shot your place.”
“Yes.”
“And we do nothing?”
Vincent looked at him.
“We give every camera recording, license plate and phone record to the task force.”
Someone cursed.
Vincent stepped closer.
“You want a war?”
Nobody answered.
“I've buried enough people.”
He looked around.
“Anybody who wants revenge can leave my payroll first.”
No one moved.
Amelia arrived at seven.
She saw the glass.
The bullet hole.
Vincent.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Tony?”
“Home.”
She looked at the damaged photograph.
“What are you going to do?”
“Fix the window.”
Her eyes moved to his.
“That's it?”
“And buy a coffee machine.”
A slow smile appeared.
“That's going to ruin your reputation.”
“I've survived worse.”
Marco Moretti was arrested forty-eight hours later.
Traffic cameras captured the vehicle used in the shooting.
Derek identified the driver.
Telephone records connected the order to Marco.
No bodies.
No retaliation.
No funerals.
Vincent sat alone in Castellano’s the night the news broke.
Amelia joined him.
“You won.”
“No.”
“Moretti's in jail.”
“That isn't winning.”
“What is?”
He looked around the diner.
“You're here.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Terrible line.”
“I thought it was good.”
“Awful.”
He smiled.
Then became serious.
“I spent half my life thinking fear was respect.”
Amelia understood.
“I spent half of mine thinking control was love.”
They sat quietly.
Then Vincent said:
“Maybe we're both stupid.”
“That may be the healthiest thing you've ever said.”
The legal fallout lasted months.
Raymond was charged in both state and federal proceedings.
Evidence from Amelia's recordings helped establish financial crimes, obstruction and conspiracy.
Her assault reports were corroborated by medical records she once lied about.
A former neighbor remembered screaming.
Her sister finally told investigators about the bruises Amelia had hidden.
Raymond's attorneys attacked her credibility.
Why did she stay?
Why didn't she report earlier?
Why did she sometimes text that she loved him after an assault?
Amelia answered every question.
“Because I was afraid.”
“Because I hoped he would change.”
“Because sometimes telling him I loved him made the night safer.”
“Because leaving an abusive person and understanding an abusive person are not the same thing.”
A reporter tried to interview her outside court.
“Ms. Hayes, do you consider yourself a victim?”
Amelia stopped.
“I was.”
“Not anymore?”
She thought.
“I don't know.”
Then she smiled faintly.
“I think I'm still deciding what comes after that word.”
Vincent watched from twenty feet away.
He did not interrupt.
He no longer needed to stand in front of her.
Sometimes standing nearby was enough.
That evening, Amelia received a letter from Derek Lawson.
She nearly threw it away.
Instead, she opened it.
I don't expect forgiveness.
What I did to you was not Marco, alcohol, or the way I grew up.
I hit you because I thought being feared made me important.
I was wrong.
I am sorry.
Amelia read it twice.
Then put it in a drawer.
She did not write back.
Forgiveness was not an invoice she owed because someone apologized.
Weeks later, Derek pleaded guilty to assault and conspiracy charges.
He agreed to testify against Moretti.
Raymond refused a plea bargain.
He wanted a trial.
Amelia smiled when Russo told her.
“Good.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
May you like
“Because this time he doesn't get to control when the conversation ends.”
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