Chapter 14
Dominic asked to see Vincent before sentencing.
Vincent almost refused.
Then he remembered the funeral portrait.
It still stood in storage at the estate.
He went.
Dominic entered the attorney visitation room wearing a plain county-issued uniform instead of the tailored suits he had worn his entire adult life.
For a moment, neither cousin spoke.
Dominic finally said, “How’s the trust?”
“Solvent.”
“The workers?”
“The construction buyer kept most of them.”
Dominic nodded.
“That matters.”
Vincent looked at him.
“Why didn’t you tell me three years ago?”
Dominic laughed once without humor.
“Because I knew exactly what you would say.”
“What?”
“Turn her in.”
Vincent considered that.
“You’re probably right.”
“I thought I could fix it first.”
“So you lied.”
“Yes.”
“Then the lie needed another lie.”
“Yes.”
“Then my death.”
Dominic’s face tightened.
“I never said I wanted you dead.”
“You just made peace with the possibility.”
Dominic looked down.
“That’s worse than I knew I was capable of.”
Vincent did not comfort him.
Some realizations were supposed to hurt.
Dominic looked up again.
“Are you going to keep the family?”
Vincent understood the question.
Not the bloodline.
The structure.
The hierarchy.
The closed-door rules that made concealment feel like loyalty.
“I’m keeping what can survive daylight.”
Dominic nodded slowly.
“And the rest?”
“It dies.”
For the first time, Dominic looked relieved.
Sentencing came two weeks later.
He received years in federal prison.
Less than Helena would receive.
More than enough to alter the rest of his life.
Vincent watched without expression.
Afterward, Dominic turned once before marshals led him away.
May you like
Vincent did not wave.
Dominic did not ask him to.
