Chapter 12 - The Reckoning of Marcus Cole
I couldn't help the chuckle that escaped my chest.
“Firing you?” I asked, stepping closer to her.
“Sophie, you saved my life.”
“You think I’m going to let you clean guest bedrooms and serve tea for twenty
dollars an hour?”
She blinked, the confusion still lingering in her eyes.
“Then… what do you mean?”
“I’m transferring ten million dollars into a private trust under your name this
morning,” I said evenly.
Her jaw dropped.
She nearly dropped her porcelain teacup.
“Ten… ten million?!” she gasped.
“Are you insane?!”
“That’s not charity, Sophie,” I said firmly.
“That’s the standard bounty for saving the head of the Vale estate.”
“You earned every single penny of it.”
“Furthermore,” I continued, “the Vale Foundation needs a new director.”
“Someone who actually knows the value of human life.”
“Someone with courage.”
“The position pays half a million a year, full autonomy, and you answer to no
one except the board.”
“Which means me.”
She stared at me, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.
“Ethan… I… I can't take that,” she whispered, her voice cracking.
“I was an orphan from Queens. I worked two jobs just to pay my mother’s medical
debts before she died.”
“I don't belong in that world.”
“You belong wherever you choose to stand, Sophie,” I said softly.
“Last night, you stood in front of a shotgun and didn't back down.”
“That board of directors will be terrified of you.”
She let out a wet, breathless laugh, wiping a tear from her cheek.
“You’re ridiculous,” she murmured.
“I’m practical,” I corrected her.
Down below on the private driveway, a black town car pulled up to the portico.
Captain Rossi stepped out, holding a manila folder under his arm.
He looked up at the veranda, touched the brim of his fedora, and signaled
upward.
“Excuse me for a moment,” I told Sophie.
“I need to close one final door.”
I walked down to the main study.
Rossi was waiting inside, looking over the newly signed corporate filings.
“The captains signed the charter, Ethan,” Rossi announced, handing me the
folder.
“All six families have agreed to the restructuring.”
“We are officially Vale Logistics Corporation.”
“The docks in Brooklyn, Newark, and Boston are completely under legitimate
maritime licenses.”
“No more contraband. No more protection rackets.”
“And Marcus?” I asked, signing my name across the bottom of the charter.
“Marcus is being transferred to ADX Florence,” Rossi said with a grim smile.
“Supermax. Twenty-three hours a day in a concrete cell.”
“He tried to make a deal with the U.S. Attorney this morning.”
“What did he offer?”
“He offered to testify against you,” Rossi replied.
“And what did Vance say?”
“Vance laughed in his face,” Rossi chuckled.
“Vance told him Ethan Vale just handed over thirty-two years of corrupt
syndicate records and paid forty million dollars in back corporate taxes.”
“Vance told Marcus he was just a violent thug who outlived his usefulness.”
I capped my fountain pen and slid the documents back into the folder.
“Then it’s finished,” I said.
“Almost,” Rossi added, looking toward the hallway.
“Caroline’s lawyer called.”
“She’s begging for an audience.”
“She wants five minutes with you before she’s transported to the federal
detention facility.”
I looked at the framed portrait of my father hanging above the fireplace.
A man who had lived by the gun and died by the gun.
A man who never knew how to walk away from a grudge.
“Tell her lawyer no,” I said quietly.
May you like
“Ethan Vale died in Chicago.”
“The man living in this house has nothing to say to her.”
