Chapter 8 - The Destruction of Salvatore
The following morning, the news hit the front pages of every newspaper in the country.
FEDERAL RAID ON HARRINGTON & LOWE: MOB BANKER SALVATORE RIGGI ARRESTED IN MULTI-MILLION DOLLAR MONEY LAUNDERING SCHEME.
FORMER ANALYST BRANDON PIERCE FACES 40 YEARS FOR WIRE FRAUD AND FORGERY.
Sitting in the warm glass sunroom of Vincent’s penthouse, Clara watched the news coverage on a massive flat-screen television while sipping hot tea.
The FBI had seized all of Salvatore’s assets, frozen his bank accounts, and dismantled his entire organization in Cicero within twelve hours. Harrington & Lowe had been shut down, its senior partners facing federal indictments.
Most importantly, the Federal Prosecutor had issued a public statement exonerating Clara Jenkins of all wrongdoing, citing her courageous role as an anonymous whistleblower who provided the encrypted ledgers that brought down the syndicate.
Her credit was restored. Her debts were erased. Her name was clean.
The sunroom door opened, and Vincent walked in, wearing a soft gray cashmere sweater and dark trousers. He held a glass of orange juice and a red velvet box in his hand.
He walked over to where Clara sat on the velvet sofa and sat down beside her, his large frame warmth against her side.
"It’s over, Clara," Vincent said gently, setting his glass on the coffee table. "Salvatore is behind bars. Brandon is in a holding cell waiting for arraignment. You are completely free."
Clara looked at him, her eyes filling with warm tears. "Free?"
"You can go back to your life," Vincent said, though a shadow of deep sadness crossed his gray eyes. "I’ve set up a trust account in your name with two million dollars—a consultant fee for your work on the ledgers. You can buy an apartment, start your own accounting firm, or leave Chicago entirely."
Clara stared at him, her chest aching. "Are you telling me to leave, Vincent?"
Vincent reached out, taking her hands in his, his fingers trembling slightly.
"I am a dangerous man, Clara," Vincent said softly, his voice thick with raw emotion. "I run a world of shadows, blood, and violence. You deserve a quiet, peaceful life with a normal man who doesn't carry a gun to breakfast."
Clara set her tea cup down. She stood up, stepped between his knees, and placed her hands on his broad shoulders, looking down into his dark, brooding face.
"A normal man let me take the fall for his crimes," Clara said, her voice strong, steady, and filled with passion. "A normal man made me feel small and unlovable. But a dangerous man looked at me when I was broken at a bar, saved my life, honored my intelligence, and made me feel like a queen."
She leaned down, pressing her forehead against his.
"I don't want a quiet life without you, Vincent Moretti," she whispered. "I want you."
May you like
Vincent let out a shaky breath, his arms wrapping tightly around her hips, pulling her down onto his lap, burying his face in the soft crook of her neck, holding her as if she were the most precious thing in the universe.
"I will love you until the day I die, Clara," Vincent choked out, his hands trembling against her back. "I will burn the world before I let anything hurt you."
