Emily Hayes was sitting upright in bed eating strawberry gelatin when Norah stormed into her room.
“Nora?”
Norah crossed the room and hugged her.
Emily squeaked.
“Okay. Ribs.”
“Sorry.”
“You smell like expensive car.”
Norah laughed shakily.
Emily was twenty-five but looked younger when she smiled. Years of medical problems had left her physically fragile, though nobody who knew her would describe her personality that way.
She glanced past Norah.
Victor stood near the doorway.
Emily studied him.
“Oh.”
Norah closed her eyes.
“Emily.”
“What?”
Victor almost smiled.
Emily pointed her spoon.
“That's Victor Costa.”
“You know him?”
“He's on television.”
Victor stepped inside.
“Hopefully not frequently.”
Emily narrowed her eyes.
“You're shorter on television.”
Norah coughed.
Victor looked offended.
“I am six foot three.”
“Television makes you look six-four.”
“I'll speak to the network.”
Emily smiled.
Norah stared between them.
Then Emily noticed the copper ring hanging from Norah's repaired cord.
Her eyes moved back toward Victor.
“No.”
Norah sighed.
“Yes.”
Emily's mouth opened.
“No way.”
“Yes.”
“This is Vic?”
Victor looked confused.
Emily nearly shouted.
“The Vic?”
Norah covered her face.
Victor glanced at her.
“You told her about me?”
“Unfortunately.”
Emily pointed the spoon again.
“She used to talk about you constantly.”
“I was nine,” Norah protested.
“Sixteen.”
“I hate you.”
Emily grinned.
Victor looked delighted.
Norah pointed at him.
“Don't.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“You're thinking loudly.”
For a few minutes, the danger outside disappeared.
Then Victor's security chief entered.
“Boss.”
Victor stepped into the hall.
Norah followed.
Tommy's face was serious.
“The man with the fake badge worked for Moretti.”
“Alive?” Victor asked.
“Yes.”
Norah noticed the hesitation.
“Keep it that way.”
Victor looked at her.
“I was going to.”
“Were you?”
A shadow crossed his face.
“No.”
Norah appreciated the honesty even when she hated the answer.
They moved Emily to a private medical residence that evening.
Victor owned the building through one of his companies.
Norah protested until she saw the room, the nursing staff, and Emily's ridiculous happiness over the ocean view.
“How much does this cost?” Norah demanded.
Victor handed the administrator paperwork.
“Nothing.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“No what?”
“I am paying.”
“You can't afford it.”
“That doesn't mean you get to—”
Victor leaned closer.
“I lost twenty years.”
“That isn't a debt.”
“To me it is.”
Norah lowered her voice.
“You can't buy forgiveness.”
“I know.”
“Then stop trying.”
Victor's expression softened.
“This isn't buying forgiveness.”
“What is it?”
“Keeping a promise badly overdue.”
Norah looked toward Emily's room.
Victor continued.
“You wanted a warm room.”
“I was eight.”
“You wanted your sister safe.”
She said nothing.
“Let me give you one of those things.”
Norah finally nodded.
“One.”
Victor smiled.
“We'll renegotiate later.”
“There will be no renegotiation.”
“That's what every negotiator says.”
She shoved his shoulder.
Victor laughed.
The sound startled two guards.
Norah noticed.
“So Tommy wasn't exaggerating. You really don't laugh.”
Victor's smile faded slowly.
“There hasn't been much worth laughing about.”
“What happened to you?”
He looked toward the windows.
Norah immediately regretted asking.
Then Victor answered.
“Carlo Costa took me in.”
“I know.”
“He wasn't kind.”
Norah remained quiet.
“But he was predictable. To a kid like me, predictability felt almost like kindness.”
Victor sat on a bench.
“He taught me how power worked. Who could be bought. Who had to be frightened. Who smiled while planning to betray you.”
“And eventually you took over.”
“When Carlo died.”
“How?”
Victor looked at her.
“Do you really want the answer?”
Norah considered.
“No.”
“Good.”
He leaned back.
“When I inherited the organization, I told myself I'd change it.”
“Did you?”
“Some things.”
“Such as?”
“No narcotics near schools. No trafficking. No hurting families to collect debts.”
Norah stared.
“That is a very low moral bar.”
“I didn't claim sainthood.”
“At least you're self-aware.”
Victor smiled.
Then turned serious.
“The problem is that once you build power through fear, fear keeps demanding payment.”
Norah watched him.
“You want out.”
Victor's expression changed.
He had never said that.
Perhaps never even allowed himself to think it.
“Out isn't simple.”
“Because people depend on you?”
“Because people want what I have.”
“Then give it to them.”
“And let Moretti control the port?”
“No.”
“You see the problem.”
Norah sighed.
“Yes.”
They sat in silence.
Finally she asked, “Why did you never marry?”
Victor looked amused.
“You're asking surprisingly personal questions tonight.”
“You proposed to me when you were twelve.”
“That was binding.”
“It absolutely was not.”
“I made a ring.”
“Out of electrical wire.”
“There was craftsmanship.”
“It turned my finger green.”
Victor laughed again.
Norah felt warmth spread through her chest.
Dangerous.
Very dangerous.
“So?”
“So what?”
“Why didn't you marry?”
Victor's eyes settled on the copper ring.
“I promised someone.”
Norah's breath caught.
“Victor.”
“You asked.”
“You were twelve.”
“I've broken many rules, Norah.”
He looked into her eyes.
“I never learned how to break that one.”
Her heart began beating too hard.
She stood abruptly.
“I should check on Emily.”
Victor did not stop her.
Inside Emily's room, Norah pretended to rearrange flowers.
Emily watched.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“You're pink.”
“I'm warm.”
“It's sixty-eight degrees.”
“Eat your gelatin.”
Emily smiled.
“You still love him.”
Norah froze.
“That's ridiculous.”
“You kept his ring for twenty years.”
“That doesn't mean love.”
“What does it mean?”
Norah had no answer.
The following week passed under heavy security.
Norah temporarily stopped working at the Costa estate.
Victor insisted.
She resisted.
Eventually they compromised: she would remain on payroll while assisting Emily.
Norah hated accepting the money.
Victor solved the argument by showing her employment records proving the Costa household owed her hundreds of unpaid overtime hours because of Mrs. Gable's manipulation.
Norah stared at the papers.
“You audited the payroll?”
“I had accountants do it.”
“At midnight?”
“They work late.”
“You threatened them.”
“I encouraged urgency.”
“Victor.”
“They survived.”
She rolled her eyes.
But trouble was building.
Moretti had lost his insider.
Federal investigators had begun asking about his operations.
Victor suspected he would retaliate.
He did.
At 11:43 one night, a warehouse owned by Costa Maritime caught fire.
No workers were inside.
The message was clear.
The next morning a Costa restaurant was vandalized.
Then two delivery trucks disappeared.
Victor responded economically.
He froze Moretti's access to several shipping contracts.
Moretti lost millions.
The city began holding its breath.
Norah found Victor alone in his office one evening.
His sleeves were rolled up.
Documents covered the desk.
“You haven't slept.”
“I've slept.”
“When?”
“Tuesday.”
“It's Friday.”
“I didn't say recently.”
She placed food in front of him.
“Eat.”
Victor raised an eyebrow.
“Bossy.”
“You started it.”
He took a bite.
Norah looked at the documents.
“These are legitimate companies.”
“Most of my income is legitimate now.”
“Most?”
“Norah.”
“Right.”
She sat across from him.
“What would happen if you shut down the rest?”
Victor stopped eating.
“Why?”
“You said you wanted things to change.”
“I said I tried.”
“Try harder.”
He leaned back.
“You think I can announce retirement?”
“No.”
“Moretti would smell weakness.”
“Then don't be weak.”
His eyebrow rose.
Norah continued.
“Use what you actually own. Contracts. Property. Shipping. Restaurants. Money.”
Victor stared.
“You want me to fight organized crime with corporate restructuring?”
“I want you to stop solving every problem the way a twelve-year-old boy with bruised knuckles would.”
His expression went still.
Norah immediately knew she had touched something deep.
She softened.
“Vic survived because he fought.”
Victor looked away.
“But you're not twelve anymore.”
Silence.
“You have choices now.”
For a long time, Victor said nothing.
Then he looked at the old photograph on his desk.
“You always did this.”
“What?”
“Made me feel stupid after I thought I had everything figured out.”
Norah smiled.
“You usually were stupid.”
“Still am, apparently.”
“Sometimes.”
Victor reached into his pocket.
He removed the copper ring.
Norah frowned.
“Why do you have that?”
“You left it when the cord broke again.”
“I thought it was in my room.”
Victor stood.
He came around the desk.
“Give me your hand.”
Norah's pulse jumped.
“No.”
His mouth curved.
“You said that last time too.”
“Victor.”
“Hand.”
She slowly offered it.
Victor did not put the copper ring on her finger.
Instead he placed it in her palm.
Then he closed her fingers over it.
“I made you a guarantee twenty years ago.”
Norah looked at him.
“I can't undo what happened.”
His voice lowered.
“I can't become the boy you remember.”
“I don't want that boy.”
He seemed surprised.
“He was angry and scared.”
Norah stepped closer.
“I want to know the man.”
Victor stared at her.
Something unguarded moved through his face.
Then his phone rang.
He ignored it.
Norah whispered, “You should answer.”
“No.”
“It might be important.”
“Nothing is more important right now.”
Her breath caught.
The phone rang again.
Victor cursed.
He answered.
“What?”
His face changed.
All warmth disappeared.
“When?”
Norah's stomach tightened.
Victor listened.
Then slowly looked at her.
He ended the call.
“What happened?” Norah asked.
Victor did not answer immediately.
“Victor.”
Finally he said:
“Moretti sent a message.”
“What kind?”
Victor's eyes became ice.
“A photograph.”
“Of what?”
He handed her the phone.
Norah looked down.
Her blood went cold.
The photograph showed Emily leaving the medical facility earlier that afternoon with a nurse.
A red circle had been drawn around her.
Underneath, five words were typed.
SHE CAN'T STAY GUARDED FOREVER.
Norah stopped breathing.
Victor gently took the phone.
She looked at him.
“Do not kill him.”
Victor said nothing.
“Victor.”
His jaw tightened.
“If you do, somebody replaces him.”
“He threatened Emily.”
“I know.”
“He threatened you.”
“I know.”
Victor turned toward the window.
Norah grabbed his hand.
He looked down.
“Be smarter than him.”
Victor stared at her fingers around his.
Twenty years earlier, violence had separated them.
Now Norah was asking him to choose another path.
Victor slowly closed his hand around hers.
“All right.”
Norah exhaled.
“What are you going to do?”
Victor looked toward the harbor lights.
“For the first time in my life?”
A dangerous calm entered his expression.
“Something legal.”