Chapter 7 - THE RECKONING AT CODABy 3:00 AM, the lower level of Coda nightclub was completely cleared of patrons and staff.
Ricky sat tied to a steel chair in the middle of the empty, dimly lit service room, surrounded by six of Damian's most intimidating enforcers. His shirt was soaked with sweat, his eyes wide with wild, unadulterated terror as he watched Damian walk down the concrete stairs.
I stepped down the stairs behind Damian, wrapped in a warm coat, holding the yellow housekeeping notebook in my hands.
"Mr. Russo! Please!" Ricky screamed, thrashing against his restraints. "It's a mistake! The girl is lying! She stole the money! She's setting me up!"
Damian didn't say a word. He simply gestured to Vincent, who tossed the heavy black duffel bag—and the bloodstained uniform with my torn name tag—directly onto the floor at Ricky's feet.
Ricky’s jaw fell open. All the color drained from his face until he looked like a corpse.
"You thought she was helpless because she was poor," Damian said quietly, walking right up to Ricky's chair. "You thought because she had no family, no money, and no voice, no one would ever stand between your boots and her ribs."
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Damian reached down, picked up the yellow notebook from my hands, and flipped to the last page.
"She noted forty dollars," Damian continued, his voice dropping into a chilling register. "She held herself accountable for forty dollars because she has integrity. You stole eighty-four thousand, framed a worker, and brought dishonor to my roof."
