Chapter 9 - THE LIFE AFTER POWER
Lucian did not go to prison for decades.
He did not walk away untouched either.
His cooperation led to a negotiated resolution involving financial penalties, forfeiture of several assets, probationary restrictions on specific businesses and independent compliance oversight.
He hated the oversight.
I loved it.
“Your compliance monitor emailed me again,” he complained one morning.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why email?”
“He enjoys suffering.”
“Professional skill.”
Moretti Maritime survived.
Smaller.
Cleaner.
Lucian stepped back from daily control.
Nico DeLuca, his longtime legitimate operations chief, became CEO.
Lucian retained investments.
Hotels.
Property.
Several logistics businesses.
But the shadow empire shrank.
People still feared him.
Old habits in a city die slowly.
He cared less.
I rebuilt my firm.
The first months were difficult.
Vale had poisoned my reputation before the evidence became public.
Then everything reversed.
Clients returned.
Some apologized.
Some acted as though they had never left.
Those people paid higher retainers.
I called it an integrity surcharge.
Lucian called it revenge.
“Accounting revenge.”
“Still revenge.”
“I sleep fine.”
Within a year, Mercer Forensic Advisory had fifteen employees.
We specialized in nonprofit fraud, corporate investigations and financial coercion.
My first major client?
A hospital foundation.
No Mafia.
No fiancé.
Beautiful.
Adrian wrote once.
From federal custody.
Elena,
I spent months trying to decide which apology would make you understand that some part of what I felt was real.
Then I realized that question is still about me.
So I won’t ask you to understand.
You were right.
I chose.
I am sorry.
Adrian.
I read it once.
Put it away.
Did not answer.
Not because I hated him.
Because some chapters do not need sequels.
Camille received a much longer sentence.
She appealed.
Of course.
Vanessa sent Christmas cards occasionally.
Evelyn Stone became a consultant for my firm.
At sixty-nine, she worked twelve hours a week and judged everyone.
I adored her.
And Lucian?
Lucian learned ordinary life badly.
Our first supermarket trip became a security incident because he bought every brand of coffee rather than choosing.
“You can compare prices.”
“Why?”
“Because humans do that.”
“I’m wealthy.”
“That is not a personality.”
He looked offended.
Our first movie theater date ended with him quietly moving seats because a teenager behind him kicked the chair.
Progress.
Old Lucian might have bought the theater.
He considered it.
I saw the thought.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You have a face.”
“So do you.”
We argued.
Regularly.
But arguments ended.
Nobody disappeared.
Nobody threatened.
Nobody controlled bank accounts.
Nobody hired security without telling the other.
Mostly.
Lucian struggled with that one.
One evening, eighteen months after the church, he took me back to Magnolia Cathedral.
I stopped outside.
“No.”
He looked confused.
“What?”
“I am not getting engaged inside this building.”
“I didn’t say—”
“You have a ring.”
He looked at his pocket.
Traitorous suit.
I laughed.
He actually looked nervous.
Lucian Moretti.
The man who once terrified half the city.
Nervous.
Good.
“I had a plan.”
“Plans have historically gone badly for me here.”
“Fair.”
We sat on the front steps instead.
No guests.
No cameras.
No Adrian.
Lucian removed the ring.
Simple.
Elegant.
Not enormous.
He had listened.
“I am not going to say you’re mine.”
“Excellent start.”
“I am not going to promise nothing bad ever happens.”
“Realistic.”
“I am not going to promise I suddenly become easy to live with.”
“Very realistic.”
He looked at me.
“I can promise choices.”
My throat tightened.
“Yours.”
He continued.
“Mine.”
Then:
“Ours when we agree.”
My eyes filled.
“Elena Mercer, will you marry me?”
I looked at the church doors behind us.
Then at the man in front of me.
“Yes.”
Lucian exhaled.
I smiled.
“Were you worried?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
“Terrified.”
May you like
Better.
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