Chapter 9 - The Truth About Giuseppe Rossi
Giuseppe Rossi had been dead eight years.
That made the truth easier legally.
Harder emotionally.
Gabriel DeLuca’s testimony confirmed what the mechanic’s statement hinted at.
Giuseppe had created the contingency against Elena because he discovered, years before his death, that his daughter was asking questions about bribery and trafficking routes.
He did not order her death directly.
He created permission.
Enzo used it.
That distinction mattered in court.
It did not matter much to Dominic.
“He built the door,” Dominic said.
“Enzo walked through it.”
We sat in the library.
The white flower had been joined by two more.
Leo denied responsibility.
Nobody believed him.
Dominic had spent days reading Elena’s files.
His mother’s correspondence with my father.
His father’s financial records.
Every page stripped another layer of myth from the Rossi name.
He looked older.
Not weaker.
Just less armored.
“I used to think my father loved us badly,” he said.
“What do you think now?”
“He loved power and called whatever remained family.”
That was harsh.
Probably true.
I did not soften it.
“You don’t have to become the opposite of him overnight.”
“I’ve had years.”
“You’ve had facts for weeks.”
He looked at me.
“You always do that.”
“What?”
“Make things irritatingly reasonable.”
“It’s a gift.”
He smiled.
Our dinner happened.
Not at the estate.
A small Italian place in the city where the owner knew Dominic but pretended not to.
No guns visible.
Leo waited in a car two blocks away and complained by text.
I wore a green dress I had bought on sale.
Dominic wore a dark suit without a tie.
For two hours we did not discuss Elena, Enzo, Bellini, Matteo, Gabriel, Giuseppe, or any other person who had tried to kill someone.
It felt radical.
He asked about nursing school.
I asked about the first legitimate business he ever built.
He confessed it had failed.
I enjoyed that more than I should have.
He asked why I became a nurse.
“My father.”
“Because he died?”
“Because before he died, he told me the worst thing about police work was arriving after damage had already happened. Nursing felt like arriving while something could still change.”
Dominic looked at me.
“That explains you.”
“What?”
“You walk into disasters and act offended that they are not organized.”
I laughed.
“That may be accurate.”
After dinner, we stood outside under cold rain.
No kiss.
Not yet.
He looked like he wanted to.
I did too.
But we were building something that had survived too much urgency already.
Slow was good.
Three weeks later, I started work at a community health clinic.
The pay was lower than the Rossi contract.
The hours were better.
My landlord renewed the lease after I caught up.
My sedan finally died permanently.
Dominic offered to send a car.
I said no.
He offered to recommend a mechanic.
I said yes.
Progress.
He came to the clinic once.
Not as a patient.
As a donor.
I nearly killed him.
“You donated fifty thousand dollars.”
“You said the clinic needs an ultrasound machine.”
“I did not say buy one.”
“You said they had one machine for six rooms.”
“That was conversation.”
“I misunderstood.”
“You absolutely did not.”
He looked guilty.
I hated that I loved it.
The clinic director was delighted.
I made Dominic sit through a donor committee meeting as punishment.
He never donated without asking again.
Meanwhile, the criminal cases moved.
Enzo faced murder conspiracy, attempted murder, bribery, and organized crime charges.
Gabriel cooperated.
Matteo pled guilty to paying Bellini and conspiracy to harm Dominic, with reduced charges for helping identify the network.
Bellini lost his medical license before trial even began.
Lucia remained outside the criminal case after forensic records supported that her foundation account had been misused without her approval.
Leo was cleared.
He acted offended anyone had doubted him.
I reminded him he had put himself on the suspect list first.
He said principles were inconvenient.
Dominic began dismantling parts of the Rossi organization.
Not all at once.
Legitimate holdings separated from criminal ones.
Illegal gambling rooms closed.
Protection collections ended in neighborhoods where fear had been treated like rent.
Some captains left.
Some threatened.
One tried to challenge Dominic.
No dramatic shootout.
Dominic handed financial evidence to federal investigators.
The man was arrested for unrelated tax fraud.
I laughed for five minutes.
“That is not funny,” Dominic said.
“It is extremely funny.”
“You are dark.”
“You noticed.”
The biggest change came when Dominic called a meeting of every senior figure still loyal to him.
I was not there.
Leo told me later.
Dominic stood at the head of the table and said:
“The Rossi name no longer protects crimes I did not authorize and should not have tolerated.”
Men argued.
He let them.
Then:
“If you want the old business, leave now. If you stay, you work legal.”
Half left.
Dominic did not stop them.
That frightened them more than threats.
The government investigations still reached him.
They had to.
He had committed crimes.
He negotiated cooperation.
Not immunity.
When he told me, we were sitting in my apartment eating takeout.
“I may go to prison.”
I put down my fork.
“How long?”
“Lawyers say maybe eighteen months. Maybe less. Maybe no custody if cooperation is enough.”
I hated the uncertainty.
He watched me.
“I’m not asking you to wait.”
“Good.”
His face changed slightly.
“You sound relieved.”
“I’m relieved you didn’t ask.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to choose what I do.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
I reached across the table.
Took his hand.
“That doesn’t mean I’m leaving.”
His eyes softened.
“Dinner tomorrow?”
“Maybe.”
He smiled.
“You enjoy making me suffer.”
“Evidence-based.”
Then he leaned across the table.
Slowly.
Giving me time to move away.
I did not.
Our first kiss was quiet.
No gunfire.
No blood.
No emergency.
Just his hand against my cheek and my heart behaving irresponsibly.
When we separated, he rested his forehead against mine.
“Nora.”
“Yes?”
“I’m glad you said no.”
“To what?”
“Getting out.”
I smiled.
“I’m glad you were too sick to throw the lamp.”
He laughed.
Then winced out of habit even though the wound had healed.
I noticed.
“You don’t hurt.”
“No.”
“You expected to.”
“Yes.”
The body remembers danger after danger ends.
So do people.
Months later, Dominic’s sentencing hearing arrived.
I sat in the back row beside Leo.
The judge acknowledged his cooperation, dismantling of criminal operations, evidence against DeLuca, and voluntary restitution.
Dominic received twelve months in federal custody.
Not nothing.
Not ruin.
A consequence.
He turned before marshals took him.
Looked at me.
No dramatic speech.
I nodded.
He nodded back.
Choice.
May you like
A year could be survived.
We had both survived worse.
