Chapter 7 - The Man Behind the Empire
Richard Castellano had been dead for fifteen years.
At least according to every document.
Every obituary.
Every funeral photograph.
Every graveyard record.
But he sat alive in the video, holding a glass of whiskey as though Vincent had merely interrupted dinner.
“You know what fascinates me?” Richard said.
Vincent stared at the screen.
“People think power belongs to the man at the top.”
Richard smiled.
“It doesn't.”
“Where are you?”
“Somewhere you cannot reach.”
Amelia stood beside Vincent.
Richard noticed her.
“And there she is.”
Amelia felt cold.
“You knew my father.”
Richard's smile widened.
“I knew Giovanni.”
“Did you kill him?”
Richard sighed.
“Your father died because he was sentimental.”
Vincent's fists clenched.
“That wasn't an answer.”
“It was the only one you deserve.”
The feed ended.
Vincent sat in silence.
For the first time since Amelia had met him, he looked lost.
Not weak.
Lost.
Marco survived surgery.
When Vincent visited him, Marco's eyes opened.
“I betrayed you.”
Vincent sat beside the bed.
“Yes.”
“I thought you were going to kill me.”
“I thought about it.”
Marco nodded.
“I deserve it.”
“No.”
Marco looked surprised.
Vincent continued.
“You saved me.”
“You saved me first.”
Vincent shook his head.
“Then we are even.”
Marco cried.
It was the first time Amelia had seen the feared lieutenant break.
Later, Vincent and Amelia stood outside.
Snow had begun falling.
“Your uncle controls Monroe,” Amelia said.
Vincent nodded.
“And Richard controls everyone else.”
“Probably.”
“Then why hasn't he killed you?”
Vincent looked at her.
“Because he wants something.”
“The archive.”
“Yes.”
“Or me.”
Vincent said nothing.
She knew.
“Why me?”
“Because you're Giovanni's daughter.”
“That can't be enough.”
“It isn't.”
He handed her a folder.
Inside were records of a trust.
Her father's.
She had access to an inheritance worth millions.
Not cash.
Shares.
Property.
Accounts.
All frozen unless she appeared in person.
“Your father transferred ownership before he died.”
“To me?”
“Yes.”
Amelia stared.
“Why didn't I know?”
“Because Richard erased the records.”
She looked up.
“Can he take it?”
“Not if we prove you're alive.”
“And if I disappear?”
“He gets everything.”
She laughed bitterly.
“So that's why Derek attacked me.”
“Yes.”
“Raymond too.”
“Yes.”
“Then the diner wasn't random.”
“No.”
Vincent paused.
“They knew you worked there.”
Amelia looked toward the snow-covered street.
“They came for the archive.”
“And you.”
Silence.
Then Amelia asked softly, “Why do you keep protecting me?”
Vincent answered without thinking.
“Because every time someone tries to use you, I want to burn their entire world down.”
She looked at him.
He seemed almost surprised by his own words.
“I don't want you to destroy everything for me.”
“I won't.”
“What will you do?”
“Make sure you survive long enough to choose what comes next.”
Her eyes softened.
“What if what comes next is you?”
Vincent stopped.
Amelia took one step closer.
“I know you're dangerous.”
“I am.”
“I know you've lied.”
“Yes.”
“I know your family is a nightmare.”
“That is an understatement.”
She smiled.
“And yet I feel safer beside you than anyone else.”
Vincent looked at her.
“I don't know how to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Care about someone without turning it into a weakness.”
She reached for his hand.
“Maybe caring isn't weakness.”
He held her fingers.
“Maybe.”
They kissed.
It was not dramatic.
No music.
No fireworks.
Just two exhausted people standing in falling snow, realizing they had both been running from ghosts.
Then Vincent's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“Say that again.”
He listened.
“Bring her.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?”
“They found Raymond.”
“Alive?”
“No.”
Amelia froze.
“Dead?”
Vincent nodded.
“Who killed him?”
A pause.
“Richard.”
She closed her eyes.
“What does he want now?”
Vincent looked toward the city.
“He wants us to come to the old Castellano estate.”
“Why?”
“He says he'll trade the final archive for my life.”
Amelia's heart sank.
“He wants you.”
“Yes.”
“And I am the archive.”
Vincent looked at her.
“No.”
“What?”
“You're not a bargaining chip.”
She stared at him.
“Then what am I?”
May you like
He squeezed her hand.
“The reason I'm going.”
