Chapter 9 - THE PRICE OF COMING HOMECarlo Valenti survived.
Dominic remained in federal custody.
Selena entered a cooperation agreement and testified against both men.
Dr. Thomas Vale was arrested in Connecticut two days later for illegally accessing and disclosing Elena’s medical information as part of the conspiracy.
And Victor Romano?
Victor surrendered voluntarily.
The story became national news.
NEW YORK POWER BROKER COOPERATES IN ORGANIZED CRIME INVESTIGATION.
Television panels debated whether Victor was a criminal turning informant, a businessman saving himself, or something between.
Victor stopped watching after the first day.
He spent nineteen days in federal detention before a judge released him under strict conditions pending resolution of his cooperation agreement.
When he walked outside, Luca was waiting.
So was Gabriella.
Elena wasn’t.
Victor had expected that.
It still hurt.
Gabriella handed him a garment bag.
“Change.”
Victor looked at it.
“What is this?”
“A suit.”
“I have suits.”
“Not anymore.”
Victor raised an eyebrow.
Gabriella almost smiled.
“Federal seizure.”
For the first time in weeks, Victor laughed.
It felt strange.
“What happened to my house?”
“Frozen pending asset review.”
“My cars?”
“Same.”
“My plane?”
“Victor.”
“All right.”
He looked around.
“How am I leaving?”
Gabriella pointed.
A gray Honda Accord waited at the curb.
Victor stared at it.
“You’re joking.”
“No.”
Luca hid a smile.
Victor got inside.
Gabriella drove.
For fifteen minutes, nobody told him where they were going.
Then they turned into a quiet neighborhood in Westchester.
Small trees.
Children riding bicycles.
Modest houses compared with the estate Victor once occupied.
Gabriella stopped outside a two-story rental.
Victor looked over.
“What is this?”
“Where Elena has been staying.”
His heart jumped.
“Why are we here?”
“She asked me to bring you.”
Victor stared at the house.
“Why?”
“Go ask her.”
He got out.
No guards.
No gates.
No marble.
A pumpkin sat on the porch even though Halloween was weeks away.
Victor walked slowly toward the front door.
Before he knocked, it opened.
Elena stood there.
She looked different.
Healthier.
Still thinner than before.
Her wrist remained in a removable brace.
A faint scar crossed her temple.
Victor forgot how to speak.
Elena gave him a small smile.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“You look terrible.”
He glanced at the cheap suit.
“I blame your sister.”
“I meant prison.”
“Oh.”
Elena stepped aside.
“Come in.”
The house smelled like cinnamon.
Victor almost laughed.
Elena had always lit cinnamon candles in October.
Some things survived.
He entered.
A cardboard box sat on the dining table.
Victor looked toward it.
“What’s that?”
“Your things.”
His chest sank slightly.
“Right.”
Elena noticed.
“Not like that.”
He looked back.
“These are things the government released from the house. Personal items.”
She opened the box.
Their wedding photograph.
His father’s watch.
Several books.
A Yankees cap.
And the tiny baby socks.
Victor stopped.
Elena picked them up.
“I couldn’t throw them away.”
Victor’s eyes filled.
“Neither could I.”
They sat at the kitchen table.
For several minutes neither spoke.
Finally Elena said, “Rebecca told me the prosecutor may recommend probation instead of prison because your cooperation dismantled most of the network.”
Victor nodded.
“Nothing is final.”
“You’re okay with whatever happens?”
“No.”
Elena raised an eyebrow.
Victor smiled faintly.
“I’m trying to become honest, remember?”
She almost smiled too.
“I’m afraid.”
“Of prison?”
“Of wasting whatever life I have left.”
Elena looked down.
Victor continued.
“But I’m not afraid of losing the organization.”
“That surprises me.”
“It surprises me too.”
He looked around the modest kitchen.
“I spent my whole life believing power meant nobody could make me feel small.”
“And now?”
“Now I own two shirts, one federal ankle monitor and apparently half a box of books.”
Elena laughed.
Victor stared at her.
She stopped.
“What?”
“I missed that.”
Her expression softened.
Then reality returned.
“Victor, I didn’t ask you here to reconcile.”
His heart tightened.
“I know.”
“I filed the divorce papers.”
He nodded slowly.
“They arrived yesterday.”
“You haven’t signed.”
“I will.”
Elena seemed surprised.
“I wanted to look you in the eye first.”
“And?”
Victor took the pen she had placed beside the papers.
He signed.
No negotiation.
No demand.
No attempt to delay.
Then he slid them back to her.
Elena stared at his signature.
“You really changed.”
Victor shook his head.
“I’m changing.”
She looked up.
“There’s a difference.”
“Yes.”
He stood.
“I should go.”
“Victor.”
He paused.
Elena’s eyes filled.
“I don’t hate you.”
He swallowed.
“That almost makes it harder.”
“I hated you for a while.”
“Fair.”
“I hated Selena too.”
Victor said nothing.
“Then I realized hating her kept me tied to the worst night of my life.”
She touched the scar near her temple.
“I don’t want to live there forever.”
Victor nodded.
“Neither do I.”
Elena looked toward the baby socks.
“I started therapy.”
“I’m glad.”
“You should too.”
Victor almost made a joke.
Then stopped.
“All right.”
She blinked.
“That easy?”
“No.”
He smiled.
“But all right.”
Victor reached the door.
Elena spoke again.
“There’s one more thing.”
He turned.
“I’m rebuilding the Foundation.”
His face brightened.
“Good.”
“Under a new name.”
“Even better.”
“No Romano.”
Victor smiled.
“Best decision you’ve made all year.”
Elena laughed again.
Then she became serious.
“I need funding.”
“How much?”
She narrowed her eyes.
“That wasn’t permission to solve it.”
Victor stopped.
Old habits.
“Right.”
She smiled faintly.
“I was going to ask whether you want a job.”
Victor stared.
“A job?”
“Temporary.”
“Doing what?”
“We need someone to negotiate building leases.”
Victor’s mouth twitched.
“I used to own buildings.”
“And now you need employment.”
He almost laughed.
“What does it pay?”
“Forty-eight dollars an hour.”
Victor placed one hand over his heart.
“Elena.”
“Too low?”
“I’m offended.”
“Then no.”
“I accept.”
She smiled.
“But there are rules.”
“Of course.”
“No intimidation.”
“Define intimidation.”
“Victor.”
“Fine.”
“No threats.”
“All right.”
“No men standing silently behind you during meetings.”
“That eliminates Luca.”
“Luca has his own life.”
Victor nodded.
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
Her expression changed.
“This job does not mean we are getting back together.”
Victor looked at her.
“I understand.”
“No romantic gestures.”
He nodded.
“No flowers.”
“Cruel.”
“No jewelry.”
“Reasonable.”
“No trying to win me.”
Victor became serious.
“Elena.”
She waited.
“I’m done trying to win you.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
Victor continued.
“You’re not a territory.”
The words hit her.
“If you ever choose me again, it has to be because you want to.”
He opened the door.
“And if you don’t…”
He struggled briefly.
“…then I’ll still be grateful I knew you.”
Elena stared at him.
Victor walked toward Gabriella’s car.
Behind him, the door remained open.
“Victor.”
He turned.
Elena stood on the porch.
“Monday.”
“What?”
“You start Monday.”
He smiled.
“What time?”
“Nine.”
Victor shook his head.
“Uncivilized.”
“Nine, Victor.”
“I’ll be there.”
And he was.
At 8:42.
Every morning.
For eleven months.
He negotiated leases.
Carried boxes.
Sat through therapy.
Attended court hearings.
Learned how to use public transit badly.
Signed away interests in businesses built on corruption.
Testified.
Apologized to people who did not forgive him.
Accepted that apologies were not transactions.
He stopped contacting Selena entirely after her testimony.
She eventually entered a relocation program and disappeared from New York.
Dominic received a long federal sentence after pleading guilty.
Carlo Valenti went to trial.
And Elena?
Elena rebuilt.
Not for Victor.
For herself.
Some days they laughed together.
Some days she barely spoke to him.
Some days she remembered the hospital and needed distance.
Victor learned not to make her healing about his discomfort.
Then one rainy afternoon almost a year after the crash, Victor was carrying donation boxes into the Foundation’s new building when Elena stopped him.
“You’re doing that wrong.”
Victor looked down.
“I’m carrying a box.”
“You’re carrying the box marked fragile underneath three heavy boxes.”
He looked.
“So I am.”
She took the top box.
Their fingers touched.
Neither moved immediately.
Elena looked at him.
“You know our divorce becomes final next Tuesday.”
Victor’s chest tightened.
“I know.”
“You’re not going to ask me to stop it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Victor answered quietly.
“Because you asked me not to try to win you.”
Elena stared.
Rain tapped against the windows.
Then she said:
“What if I’m asking you now?”
Victor stopped breathing.
Elena’s eyes filled with tears.
“Not to stop the divorce.”
His hope crashed before it could rise.
She smiled.
“I think we needed the divorce.”
Victor nodded carefully.
“But…”
He waited.
Elena touched his hand.
“What if I’m asking whether you want to take me to dinner after?”
Victor stared.
“A date?”
“One date.”
His eyes filled.
“No promises?”
“No promises.”
“No expectations?”
“Exactly.”
Victor smiled.
“What time?”
“Seven.”
“I’ll be there at six-thirty.”
“Seven.”
“Six-fifty.”
Elena laughed.
“Seven, Victor.”
And that sound—
Not power.
Not loyalty.
May you like
Not fear.
That sound felt more like coming home than anything Victor had owned in his entire life.
