Chapter 8
The next month was the happiest of my life.
Damian was changing.
Really changing.
He sold the illegal parts of the business.
The drugs.
The gambling.
The girls.
He invested in legitimate companies.
Construction.
Real estate.
Tech startups.
He donated millions to children’s hospitals.
To domestic violence shelters.
To schools in the worst neighborhoods.
The papers called him a reformed man.
A philanthropist.
A hero.
The men who worked for him called him Boss.
But they said it differently now.
With respect.
Not fear.
Milo was getting better.
He was talking again.
Laughing.
Running.
The nightmares were getting fewer.
Farther apart.
He called Damian Daddy all the time now.
And Damian was there for everything.
School drop-offs.
Soccer practice.
Bedtime stories.
He never missed a thing.
And me?
I was happy.
Really happy.
Damian had given me everything I’d ever wanted.
A home.
Safety.
A family.
And he’d asked me to marry him.
Three nights ago.
On the balcony of the penthouse.
With the whole city sparkling below us.
He’d gotten down on one knee.
Given me a ring that had been his mother’s.
And asked me to be his wife.
I’d said yes.
Of course I’d said yes.
We were planning the wedding.
Small.
Private.
Just family.
Just us.
And then the police came.
It was seven in the morning.
We were eating breakfast.
Milo was telling us about the dinosaur he was going to draw for show and tell.
Then the doorbell rang.
Damian’s head snapped up.
No one rang the bell.
Everyone who worked for him used the code.
He stood up.
Kissed the top of my head.
“Stay here,” he said.
He walked to the door.
Opened it.
Five police officers.
And behind them… a man in a suit.
FBI.
“Damian Stone?” the suit said.
“Who’s asking?”
“Special Agent Carter,” the man said, holding up a badge.
“FBI.
We have a warrant for your arrest.”
Damian didn’t move.
“On what charges?”
“Racketeering.
Murder.
Conspiracy.
Arms trafficking.”
The agent read a list of charges.
A long list.
All of them from before.
From the life Damian was trying to leave behind.
“These are old charges,” Damian said.
“Some of them are ten years old.”
“Justice doesn’t have an expiration date, Mr. Stone,” Agent Carter said.
“Put your hands behind your back.”
Damian looked over his shoulder.
At me.
At Milo.
His face was unreadable.
“Elena,” he said quietly.
“Take Milo to his room.”
“Daddy?” Milo said, standing up.
“Where are the policemen taking you?”
Damian knelt down.
Put on a brave face.
“Hey, buddy,” he said, forcing a smile.
“Daddy has to go help these men with some questions.
It’s very important.
Very grown-up.
I’ll be back before you know it, okay?”
“Promise?” Milo said, his lip trembling.
Damian looked at him.
And for a second… I thought he’d lie.
But he didn’t.
“I promise I’ll do everything I can to come home to you,” he said.
“That’s the best promise I can make right now.”
He kissed Milo’s forehead.
Then he stood up.
Looked at me.
“I love you,” he mouthed.
Then he turned.
Put his hands behind his back.
Let them cuff him.
They led him out.
I ran to the window.
Watched them put him in the back of a black car.
Watched it drive away.
Milo started crying.
I picked him up.
Held him.
And I cried too.
Because I knew.
This was it.
This was the price of Damian’s old life.
And someone was finally making him pay.
The lawyer came an hour later.
He was the best in the city.
Cost a fortune.
He looked at the warrant.
Shook his head.
“It’s bad,” he said.
“Really bad.
They’ve got witnesses.
Documents.
Everything.
Someone flipped.
Someone high up.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” the lawyer said.
“What matters is… if this goes to trial… Damian’s looking at life.
No parole.
No chance.”
I felt sick.
“Is there any way out?”
The lawyer hesitated.
“There’s one thing.
A plea deal.”
“What kind of deal?”
“He testifies against the remaining families.
Gives up everything he knows.
Names names.
Dates.
Locations.
And in exchange… he gets five years.
Time off for good behavior… he could be out in three.”
“Three years,” I whispered.
It sounded like forever.
But it was better than life.
“Or,” the lawyer said, “we fight.
We drag it out.
We spend millions.
And maybe… maybe we get him off.
But the odds are one in a hundred.
And if we lose… he dies in prison.”
I looked at the door to Milo’s room.
He was in there.
Playing with his dinosaurs.
Completely unaware his whole world was falling apart.
“Can I talk to him?” I asked.
“Of course.
I’ll arrange it.
But Elena… the prosecution is pushing hard.
We need an answer by the end of the week.”
I nodded.
“Okay.”
The lawyer left.
I sat on the couch.
Alone.
What was I supposed to do?
Tell Damian to betray every man who’d ever been loyal to him?
To break the code he’d lived by his whole life?
Or let him rot in prison for the rest of his life?
Either way… we lost.
Then the door opened again.
I stood up.
Ready to fight.
Ready to scream.
It wasn’t the police.
It was Agent Carter.
The FBI man.
He held up his hands.
“I’m alone,” he said.
“No guns.
No backup.
I just want to talk.”
“About what?”
“About your fiancé,” he said, walking in.
“About the deal.”
“I already have a lawyer for that.”
“I know,” he said.
“But I’m not here to talk to the lawyer.
I’m here to talk to you.”
He sat down.
Looked me in the eye.
“I know Damian Stone is a good man now,” he said.
“I’ve seen the hospitals.
The schools.
The shelters.
I know he’s trying to make amends.
But the law doesn’t care about that, Elena.
The law cares about what he did.
And he did a lot of bad things.”
“Then why are you here?” I asked.
“Because I also know about Marcus,” he said.
“I know what he did to you.
To Milo.
And I know Damian killed him to protect you.
And honestly?
If it were my wife and kid… I’d have done the same thing.”
He leaned forward.
“Here’s the thing, Elena.
The other families.
The ones Damian hasn’t taken down yet?
They’re still out there.
Still selling drugs.
Still hurting kids.
Still killing people.
And Damian is the only one who can help us stop them.”
“So you want to use him,” I said.
“I want to give him a chance,” Carter corrected.
“A real chance.
He takes the deal.
Testifies.
Goes away for three years.
And when he gets out… he’s free.
Clean slate.
All charges dropped.
He can be a husband.
A father.
A legitimate businessman.
No more looking over his shoulder.
No more enemies.
Just… normal.”
Normal.
The word sounded like a dream.
“And if he doesn’t take the deal?” I asked.
Carter stood up.
“Then we go to trial.
And I will personally make sure he spends the rest of his life in a cell so small he can’t even stretch his arms out.
And you and Milo… you’ll get to visit him once a month.
Through glass.
For the next fifty years.”
He walked to the door.
Stopped.
“Think about it, Elena.
Really think about it.
Because three years is a long time.
But forever is longer.”
He left.
I sat there.
May you like
Alone again.
And I knew what I had to do.
