Chapter 9 - CLARA BROOKS
Dominic was indicted.
Modern fraud charges first.
Conspiracy.
Foundation theft.
Financial crimes.
Obstruction.
Then prosecutors added charges connected to the fire based on old evidence, new testimony and his own recorded statements.
Whether every count would survive trial was uncertain.
The truth did not need exaggeration.
Carlo Salerno remained the primary architect.
Dominic had helped.
Then lied.
Then spent fifteen years profiting from proximity to the family he had helped hurt.
That was enough.
The Duca Foundation recovered millions.
Vincent personally restored additional funds that audits showed should have reached families years earlier.
Not as public generosity.
As restitution.
The organization changed too.
Several cash operations closed.
Independent oversight expanded.
Marcus complained that Vincent now had “a tragic affection for auditors.”
Vincent blamed Hannah.
She refused responsibility.
Clara’s name was publicly restored.
The Duca Foundation issued a statement explaining that Clara Brooks had been falsely suspected after the 2002 fire and had actually attempted to expose financial theft before saving sixteen-year-old Vincent Duca’s life.
Hannah cried when she read it.
Not because the world finally knew Clara was heroic.
Hannah had always known.
Because for once, her mother’s life contained something other than fear at the end of the story.
The recovered relocation fund allowed Hannah to return to school.
She quit waiting tables.
Started classes.
Then took a paid internship with an independent hotel group.
Not Duca.
She made that condition.
Vincent did not argue.
Much.
Six months passed.
Then he called.
“Hannah.”
“Yes?”
“Dinner Friday?”
She smiled.
“Is that an order?”
“No.”
“You sounded nervous.”
“I am.”
That pleased her more than it should have.
“Why dinner?”
“Because I like you.”
“And?”
“Because I have spent six months deliberately not asking you while you were financially or professionally connected to anything involving my family.”
She laughed.
“Rachel trained you well.”
“She terrifies me.”
“Good.”
Then:
“Seven-thirty.”
Their first date was at a neighborhood Italian restaurant Vincent did not own.
Hannah checked.
He pretended offense.
She wore a dark green dress.
No attempt to hide her body.
No apology.
Vincent looked at her for too long.
“What?”
“You're beautiful.”
Hannah raised an eyebrow.
“Dangerous line.”
“Why?”
“Men sometimes say that like they deserve a medal for finding a fat woman attractive.”
Vincent nearly choked on water.
Hannah smiled.
He recovered.
“Then allow me to revise.”
“Go ahead.”
“You're beautiful.”
A pause.
“And my opinion is not an act of charity.”
Better.
She laughed.
At the end of dinner, he asked:
“Can I kiss you?”
Hannah looked at him.
“Does Chicago know you ask permission?”
“Chicago knows too much already.”
“Yes.”
He kissed her.
Slow.
May you like
For once, nobody from the past interrupted.
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