Daniel Reyes survived.
Barely.
Two federal agents were wounded in the warehouse attack, but none were killed.
Mercer disappeared before police units arrived.
By morning, news outlets reported that Deputy Commissioner Daniel Mercer had taken "temporary leave due to personal circumstances."
Rachel nearly threw the television remote across the room.
"Personal circumstances?"
Dominic gave her a dry look.
"Would you prefer 'currently running from evidence connecting him to murder and organized crime'?"
"Yes."
"Less diplomatic."
The FBI began quietly assembling a task force.
But Mercer had spent decades building influence.
If we moved before the case was airtight, someone could warn him.
Again.
So we needed Antonio Valentine's second ledger.
The problem was simple.
Nobody knew where it was.
Reyes remembered one conversation between my father and Antonio.
"They talked about confession," he said from his hospital bed.
"What kind?" I asked.
"Antonio said, 'If my son ever learns what I became, I hope he finds my confession before my enemies do.'"
Dominic looked away.
His father had been dead eight years.
I'd known my father's secrets for only days.
Dominic had spent a lifetime living beneath his father's.
"Did Antonio keep a church?" I asked.
Dominic frowned.
"He wasn't religious."
"Neither was Dad."
I remembered something.
"Except after my brother's accident."
Danny had been injured in a car crash at thirteen.
His spinal cord damage changed everything.
Dad had been gone by then, but Mom began visiting St. Michael's Church.
Antonio Valentine had funded that church's restoration.
Dominic stood.
"St. Michael's."
We arrived after sunset.
The priest knew Dominic.
Of course he did.
Father Michael was nearly eighty.
When Dominic asked about Antonio, the priest became quiet.
"He came here before he died."
"Did he leave anything?"
The priest studied him.
"Your father carried many sins."
"I know."
"He also carried regret."
"Father."
The old priest sighed.
"He donated a confessional booth."
I nearly laughed.
A confession.
Literally.
We found the old wooden booth in a storage room beneath the church.
Behind one panel, Marco discovered a hidden compartment.
Inside sat a leather-bound book.
Antonio's ledger.
Dominic stared at it but didn't touch it.
I did.
Page after page documented payments.
Weapons.
Bribery.
Political favors.
Mercer's name appeared hundreds of times.
Then we reached a section marked:
THOMAS CHEN
Dominic's father had written:
Chen refused every offer.
Vincent wants him eliminated.
Mercer agreed.
I will not allow it.
Three pages later:
I failed.
Dominic closed his eyes.
I continued.
Thomas Chen is dead because my family allowed evil to grow inside it.
If my son Dominic ever reads this, I ask him to do what I could not.
End it.
Dominic sat down.
His entire life had apparently been leading toward those two words.
End it.
Not avenge it.
Not inherit it.
End it.
I touched his arm.
"You can."
He looked at me.
"You don't know what that means."
"Then tell me."
"It means destroying everything my father built."
"Maybe that's what he wanted."
"And what happens to hundreds of people who depend on my businesses?"
"The legitimate ones survive."
"And the rest?"
I didn't answer.
Dominic smiled bitterly.
"There's the difference between your world and mine."
"No."
I stepped closer.
"The difference is you think you have only two choices. Become your father or become Vincent."
His eyes hardened.
"I never said that."
"You didn't have to."
He stared at me.
I continued.
"Your kids don't need a feared man. They need their father."
His expression softened slightly.
"And what do you need?"
The question caught me off guard.
"I need Mercer in prison."
"That's all?"
"No."
I thought of hospital bills.
Mom.
Danny.
My father's name.
"I need to stop living like one disaster will destroy my family."
Dominic looked at me for several seconds.
Then said quietly:
"I can solve the money."
My anger flared.
"No."
"Emily—"
"I didn't take a bullet so you could buy me."
His face changed.
"I wasn't trying to buy you."
"Then don't offer."
"I was offering because your mother is sick and your brother needs surgery."
"Exactly."
"Is pride worth their suffering?"
The words hurt because they were true.
I stood.
He immediately regretted saying it.
"Emily."
"I need air."
Outside the church, rain had started again.
Because apparently Brooklyn had decided every important moment in my life required rain.
Dominic followed.
"I'm sorry."
I turned.
"For what part?"
"For making generosity sound like ownership."
That surprised me.
"I don't want your money."
"Then don't take mine."
"What does that mean?"
"My foundation funds medical grants."
I stared at him.
"Legitimate foundation?"
"Painfully legitimate."
Despite everything, I smiled.
"Your brother can apply. Your mother too."
"No special treatment."
"None."
"Promise?"
"Yes."
I studied his face.
"Why are you doing this?"
He looked toward the church.
"Because your father died trying to stop my family's darkness."
Then at me.
"And his daughter nearly died saving my children."
The distance between us suddenly felt smaller.
Dangerously small.
Before either of us could say anything, Rachel's SUV pulled up.
She jumped out.
"We have a problem."
"Mercer?" Dominic asked.
"He knows about the ledger."
"How?"
"Someone inside the task force leaked."
Dominic swore.
Rachel continued.
"And your safe house has been compromised."
My blood froze.
"Gia and Nico?"
"Marco moved them."
"My family?"
"Moving now."
Then Rachel looked directly at me.
"Mercer sent a message."
She handed me a phone.
A video played.
Daniel Mercer sat in a dark room.
He smiled.
"Hello, Emily."
My skin crawled.
"I imagine you finally know what happened to your father."
His voice was calm.
Almost grandfatherly.
"Thomas was stubborn. Brave, certainly. But stubborn."
Dominic's fists clenched.
Mercer continued.
"He believed evidence mattered more than power. That's why he lost."
I wanted to throw the phone.
Then Mercer leaned closer.
"You have something that belongs to me."
The ledger.
"Bring it to Pier Seventeen tomorrow night."
Rachel shook her head.
"Absolutely not."
Mercer smiled in the recording.
"And before your federal friends tell you this is a trap..."
The camera moved.
My breath stopped.
Danny was tied to a chair.
His wheelchair lay overturned nearby.
"Danny!"
Dominic grabbed the phone.
Mercer returned to frame.
"Bring the ledger alone."
The video ended.
I couldn't breathe.
Rachel was already calling agents.
Dominic looked at me.
"No."
"You don't get to decide."
"He's using your brother to lure you."
"I know."
"You'll die."
"Then help me make sure I don't."
For the first time since meeting him, Dominic looked genuinely powerless.
Because he knew.
If Gia or Nico were in Mercer's hands, nothing would stop him from going.
He looked at the photograph of Danny frozen on the phone screen.
Then at me.
"All right."
Rachel protested.
"Dominic—"
"We give Mercer exactly what he wants."
I stared at him.
"The ledger?"
He shook his head.
"No."
A cold smile appeared.
"We give him the illusion that he's won."
---