Chapter 6 - WHEN DOMINIC COULD HAVE SAVED HIS EMPIRE BY LYING, GRACE WATCHED HIM TELL THE TRUTH INSTEAD
Dominic asked Grace to meet him at a restaurant on a Monday afternoon.
Closed.
No customers.
No bodyguards inside.
He sat at a table near the back.
Grace remained standing.
“This feels ominous.”
“It probably is.”
“Comforting.”
He gestured toward the chair.
Grace sat.
Dominic looked tired.
Not rich-man tired.
Human tired.
“The prosecutors offered me a choice.”
Grace said nothing.
“They have Sal.”
“Keller.”
“Marcus.”
“Victoria cooperating.”
“Financial transfers.”
“The South River fraud.”
“But Angelo’s attorneys are preparing to argue I created the entire case because I wanted control of his shares.”
“That seems stupid.”
“It isn’t.”
Dominic looked at her.
“I have history.”
“What kind?”
Silence.
Grace waited.
He deserved the discomfort.
Dominic finally spoke.
“When my father died, I inherited legal companies.”
“And other operations.”
“Bookmaking.”
“Protection arrangements.”
“Cash businesses designed to wash money through legitimate accounts.”
Grace’s stomach tightened.
“You actually are mafia.”
His mouth almost curved.
“Apparently.”
“Not funny.”
“No.”
He looked down.
“I spent fifteen years separating parts of it.”
“But not all.”
“Why?”
“Money.”
“Power.”
“Because men who worked for my father expected continuity.”
“Because I told myself controlling those systems was safer than letting worse people have them.”
Grace stared.
“That sounds like something intelligent people say when they want to keep benefiting from something ugly.”
Dominic looked at her.
“Yes.”
No defense.
Grace sat back.
“What does this have to do with Angelo?”
“He has records.”
“Enough to damage me.”
“Maybe prosecute me.”
“And if you cooperate against him?”
“I expose records first.”
Grace understood.
“You could keep quiet.”
“Yes.”
“Let prosecutors focus on the poisoning.”
“Yes.”
“And preserve yourself.”
“For a while.”
She looked toward the empty restaurant.
“What are you going to do?”
Dominic laughed softly.
“You’re the first person I wanted to ask.”
“That sounds flattering.”
“It isn’t.”
He looked at her.
“I want you to tell me to protect myself.”
Grace stared.
“Why?”
“Because then I can pretend staying silent is about protecting my mother.”
“My employees.”
“The businesses.”
“You.”
“Do not put me in that sentence.”
“I know.”
He rubbed his face.
“That’s why I asked.”
Grace’s voice softened.
“What does Margaret say?”
“To tell the truth.”
“Smart woman.”
“She also called me an idiot.”
“Smarter every minute.”
Dominic almost smiled.
Then Grace said:
“If you hide crimes because telling the truth could cost you money, what exactly makes you different from Angelo?”
The smile disappeared.
There.
Not cruel.
Necessary.
Dominic looked at her for a long time.
“Nothing.”
Grace nodded.
“Then you know.”
He did.
Two days later, Dominic DeLuca walked into the U.S. Attorney’s Office with three lawyers and twelve years of internal records.
The news exploded before dinner.
DELUCA CEO COOPERATING IN FEDERAL ORGANIZED-CRIME REVIEW
CHICAGO POWER BROKER TURNS OVER INTERNAL FINANCIAL RECORDS
DELUCA EMPIRE FACES RESTRUCTURING
Grace watched from her mother’s hospital room.
Helen looked at the television.
“That’s him?”
“Yes.”
“He looks less scary on television.”
“He would hate that.”
“Are you dating him?”
Grace nearly dropped her water.
“No.”
Helen smiled.
“You said that fast.”
“Because the answer is fast.”
“Does he like you?”
“Mom.”
“You grabbed a woman for his mother.”
“He should at least send flowers.”
“He tried.”
“You refused?”
“Yes.”
Helen sighed.
“I raised you too independent.”
“You raised me correctly.”
Helen’s treatment had become another unexpected piece of the story.
A hospital social worker, after seeing media coverage, reviewed Helen’s account.
Not because Dominic intervened.
Grace made certain of that.
Helen qualified for a financial-assistance program they had never been told about.
The original $18,764 balance was reduced dramatically.
Grace still owed money.
Manageable.
Real.
When Dominic heard, he said only:
“Good.”
No check appearing.
No secret payment.
Grace appreciated that more than any gift.
Meanwhile, the investigation widened.
Angelo was arrested on conspiracy, attempted poisoning, bribery, wire fraud, and racketeering-related allegations.
Malcolm Sinclair was charged separately with financial conspiracy, witness manipulation, and obstruction-related offenses.
Victoria was not charged in the poisoning.
Her conduct was ugly.
Not criminal in the same way.
She publicly admitted she had intentionally provoked Margaret at her father’s request and had not understood the full plan.
The apology came during a press conference.
Grace watched five minutes.
Turned it off.
Not every apology needs an audience from the injured person.
Margaret recovered steadily.
Wheelchair remained for long distances.
Cane during therapy.
Personality completely intact.
She requested Grace visit.
Grace did.
Margaret sat inside her Lake Shore Drive home surrounded by flowers.
“Most of these are from people hoping I forget they supported Angelo.”
Grace smiled.
“Convenient.”
Margaret pointed toward a bouquet.
“That one sent by a senator is already dead.”
“Metaphor?”
“Hopefully.”
Grace laughed.
Then Margaret became serious.
“Dominic told me what you said.”
Grace’s stomach tightened.
“What did I say?”
“That hiding his crimes would make him no better than Angelo.”
Grace looked toward the door.
“He tells you everything?”
“Only things that hurt his feelings.”
“Efficient.”
Margaret reached for Grace’s hand.
“You changed something in him.”
Grace immediately shook her head.
“No.”
Margaret raised an eyebrow.
“He changed something in himself.”
“Important difference.”
The older woman considered.
Then smiled.
“That may be why I like you.”
Grace relaxed.
Margaret continued.
“I also know about your mother.”
Grace tensed again.
“Dominic did not tell me financial details.”
“Good.”
“He told me she is ill.”
“Yes.”
“How is she?”
“Better.”
“Good.”
Margaret looked toward the window.
“I’m creating something.”
Grace groaned.
“No.”
“You don’t know what.”
“If it involves my name—”
“It doesn’t.”
Grace waited.
“A caregiver scholarship.”
Margaret said.
“Through the hospital foundation.”
“For people who paused nursing, medical-tech, or allied-health education because they became family caregivers.”
Grace became still.
Years earlier, she had completed nearly two years of nursing coursework.
Then Helen’s first major health crisis arrived.
Grace dropped out.
Took whatever jobs paid quickly.
She had never returned.
“How did you know?”
Margaret smiled.
“I ask better questions than my son.”
Grace’s eyes filled.
“You cannot create a scholarship for me.”
“I’m not.”
“Independent board.”
“Published criteria.”
“Multiple recipients.”
“No DeLuca selection.”
“You may apply.”
“Or not.”
There.
Choice.
Grace looked away.
“I hate your family.”
Margaret laughed.
“Get in line.”
Three months later, Grace applied.
No guarantee.
She wrote the essay herself.
No Dominic reference except where the public incident required explaining why she had become interested in cardiac emergency care again.
She received one of twelve awards.
When she told Dominic, he smiled.
“Congratulations.”
“That’s all?”
“What else?”
“No giant celebration?”
“I was told gifts are dangerous.”
“Good memory.”
Then:
“Dinner?”
Grace froze.
Dominic did too.
Something had shifted.
For months, he had been concern.
Evidence.
Hospital corridors.
Legal meetings.
A man standing near every crisis.
Now dinner sounded different.
Grace looked at him.
“Are you asking me on a date?”
Dominic, feared by half of Chicago, looked genuinely uncertain.
“Yes.”
That was almost worth saying no.
Almost.
Grace took a breath.
“One dinner.”
“No bodyguards at the table.”
“Fine.”
“No restaurant you own.”
His face tightened.
“That eliminates thirty percent of Chicago.”
“Survive.”
“Barely.”
May you like
Grace smiled.
“Friday.”
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