Chapter 6 - VINCENT’S LAST MOVE
Vincent did not wait quietly for the walls to close.
He contacted Norah.
Directly.
A text from an unknown number.
Roman is cooperating. Ask yourself who prosecutors will need to pressure him.
Then:
You and the babies are leverage now.
Norah showed me immediately.
Old me wanted Vincent dead.
The feeling came fast.
Hot.
Comforting.
Familiar.
I stood.
Norah saw my face.
“Roman.”
“I’m fine.”
“No.”
“I said—”
“You're becoming him again.”
I stopped.
Three words.
Enough.
I sat.
Called Gabriel.
Called federal agents.
Moved Norah and the twins into protected temporary housing coordinated legally, not by my men.
I did not choose the location.
That was harder than anything.
I did not know where my children slept for four nights.
Norah called once daily.
Video.
Supervised through secure arrangements.
Noah smiled for the first time on day three.
I missed it live.
Saw it thirty seconds later on a screen.
Consequences.
On day five, Vincent was arrested.
Not because I sent anyone.
Because evidence tied him to financial crimes, witness intimidation, and attempts to interfere with an active investigation.
Charges expanded later.
So did mine.
My attorneys negotiated cooperation.
I resigned from every company where criminal revenue had been mixed into legitimate operations.
Assets were frozen.
Some seized.
I sold what I could legally.
One legitimate logistics company survived under independent management.
I placed no family member in control.
Carlo resigned from everything too.
“What will you do?”
He shrugged.
“Maybe sleep.”
I laughed.
He deserved it.
My own legal outcome remained uncertain for months.
Norah returned to Minnesota with the twins.
Not Chicago.
I did not ask.
I rented a small apartment in Denver during Noah’s follow-up care.
No guards inside.
One security professional outside only when advised.
For the first time since I was twenty-one, I grocery shopped.
I had no idea almond milk cost that much.
Sofia mocked me relentlessly.
Norah allowed supervised visits with the twins.
Not court-ordered.
Her choice.
The first visit lasted ninety minutes.
The second, two hours.
By month three, I changed diapers without instruction.
By month five, Noah slept on my chest.
Norah took a photograph.
Then immediately looked embarrassed.
“Sorry.”
“Send it.”
She hesitated.
Then did.
I stared at that photograph for days.
Not because I looked powerful.
I looked terrified.
Happy.
May you like
Human.
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