Chapter 17 - The Restoration of Justice
By evening, Evelyn Cross was safely locked in a federal holding facility, her assets seized and her co-conspiratorial shielding completely dismantled. The federal prosecutor’s office, suddenly equipped with an unsealed confession and airtight digital forensics provided directly by the Moretti legal team, expanded the indictment to include multiple counts of accessory to murder and corporate cover-up.
The closure brought a strange, quiet catharsis to the penthouse.
Dominic sat in his private study late that night, looking at a framed photograph on his desk. It wasn't a picture of a criminal syndicate, a stack of ledgers, or a sprawling estate. It was a polaroid taken by Marco two weeks earlier: Nora and Ella covered head-to-toe in potting soil on the balcony, holding up a crooked, dirt-stained tomato sprout while laughing hysterically into the camera lens.
The mafia boss who had built his empire on blood and silence had accidentally cultivated a family. And for the first time in his life, he realized he would tear down the entire world before letting anyone touch a hair on their heads.
The door clicked open, and soft footsteps padded across the Persian rug.
"Uncle Dominic?" Nora’s sleepy voice drifted through the study.
Dominic looked up, immediately dropping his cold executive facade. "I'm right here, sweetie. Shouldn't you be asleep?"
Nora walked over, holding her stuffed rabbit under one arm, and climbed effortlessly onto his lap, resting her head against his broad chest. "I had a bad dream that the vending machine wouldn't open anymore."
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Dominic wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight against his heart, feeling the steady, living rhythm of her pulse.
"Don't worry," Dominic whispered into her dark curls, kissing the top of her head. "The machine is open forever now. Go back to sleep."
