Chapter 9
I saw Damian the next day.
In a small room with a metal table.
Glass between us.
He looked terrible.
Pale.
Tired.
His hair was a mess.
He was wearing an orange jumpsuit.
It didn’t suit him.
He picked up the phone.
I picked up mine.
“Hey,” he said.
He tried to smile.
It didn’t work.
“Hey,” I said.
“How are you?”
“Great,” he said.
“Five-star accommodations.
The food’s terrible.
The company’s worse.
But the view of the parking lot is to die for.”
I tried to smile.
Couldn’t.
“Damian, stop.”
He sighed.
Dropped the act.
“Okay.
It’s hell.
I hate it.
I haven’t slept since I got here.
All I can think about is you and Milo.
Is he okay?”
“He misses you,” I said.
“He drew you a picture.
Of all of us.
At the beach.”
I held it up to the glass.
Three stick figures.
Yellow sun.
Blue water.
Damian’s eyes glistened.
“Tell him I love it,” he said.
“Tell him I’m going to hang it in my office the second I get home.”
He looked at me.
“The lawyer called.
Told me about the deal.”
“I know,” I said.
“Agent Carter came to see me yesterday.”
Damian’s jaw tightened.
“He had no right—”
“He had every right,” I cut him off.
“Because he’s right, Damian.
You have to take the deal.”
Damian shook his head.
“No.”
“Damian—”
“I said no, Elena.
I don’t rat.
Ever.
It’s the code I was raised on.
The code my father lived by.
The code—”
“The code almost got my son killed!” I screamed.
People turned to look.
I lowered my voice.
“The code almost got all of us killed.
Marcus lived by that code too, remember?
And look what he did.”
Damian looked away.
“These men are my family, Elena.
I grew up with them.
Some of them changed my diapers.
I can’t just… throw them to the wolves.”
“They’re not your family,” I said.
“I’m your family.
Milo’s your family.
And we’re on the other side of this glass.
Because of choices you made before you knew we existed.”
Tears ran down my face.
“Three years, Damian.
Three years and you’re free.
Clean slate.
No more enemies.
No more guns.
No more blood on your hands.
We can be normal.
We can get married.
We can have more kids.
We can watch Milo grow up.
Or… you can be loyal to men who would have killed you in your sleep if Marcus had offered them enough money.
And you can die in here.
And Milo can grow up without a father.
Which is it going to be, Damian?
Huh?
Them?
Or us?”
He didn’t answer.
Just stared at the table.
“Damian, look at me.”
He did.
“I’m not asking you to do this for me,” I said.
“I’m telling you.
Because if you don’t take that deal… I’m gone.
I’m taking Milo.
And I’m moving as far away as I can.
And I’m never coming back.
Because I will not raise my son to think loyalty to criminals is more important than the people you love.”
The words were out.
Harsh.
Final.
Damian flinched like I’d slapped him.
“You’d leave me?” he whispered.
“I’d have to,” I said.
“Because if you choose them over us… then you’re not the man I fell in love with.
And I can’t be with someone who values his pride more than his own son.”
I stood up.
Put the phone down.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” I said through the glass.
“With an answer.
And it better be the right one.”
I walked out.
Didn’t look back.
Because if I did… I’d break.
And I couldn’t break.
Not now.
Not when everything depended on me being strong.
The next twenty-four hours were the longest of my life.
Milo asked for Damian every five minutes.
I told him Daddy was working.
That he’d be home soon.
I hated lying to him.
But what else could I do?
Tell him his daddy might never come home?
That night, I got a call from the lawyer.
“He took it,” he said.
I collapsed onto the bed.
Cried.
Relieved.
Heartbroken.
All at once.
“Thank God,” I whispered.
“It’s going to be okay, Elena,” the lawyer said.
“Three years will go by fast.
And when he gets out… it’ll be like none of this ever happened.”
I hoped he was right.
The trial was quick.
Damian testified for three days.
Named every name.
Every location.
Every crime.
The papers called it the biggest mob bust in the city’s history.
Dozens of arrests.
Millions seized.
The old families were gone.
Wiped out.
And Damian… he was a hero to some.
A traitor to others.
But to me… he was just the man who’d given up everything for us.
The sentencing was two weeks later.
The judge was hard.
But fair.
“Damian Stone,” he said, looking down from the bench.
“You have done terrible things.
Unforgivable things.
But you have also done more to atone for them than any man I have ever seen.
You have helped us dismantle a criminal empire that has terrorized this city for generations.
And you have done everything in your power to become a better man.
A better father.
A better partner.”
He paused.
“Therefore… I sentence you to five years in federal prison.
With credit for time served.
And eligibility for parole after thirty-six months.”
He banged the gavel.
It was done.
Damian looked back at me.
Smiled.
Mouthed “I love you.”
I blew him a kiss.
Then the marshals took him away.
Three years.
May you like
One thousand and ninety-five days.
I counted every single one.
