Chapter 12 - THE FINAL BARGAIN
"Hello, Marco," District Attorney Vance said smoothly, stepping into the dusty apartment.
The young, righteous prosecutor—the man who had eagerly taken Elena’s microfiche and promised to clean up the city—looked completely comfortable standing next to New York hitmen.
Answer one: Vance wasn't clean. He wasn't the heroic prosecutor Rosa thought he was. He had used the microfiche to eliminate Rocco and Elena, creating a power vacuum in Boston so his true masters—the New York syndicate—could take over without firing a shot.
"Vance," Marco growled, stepping in front of me, shielding me and the emerald in my pocket. "You sold out my mother."
"I didn't sell her out, Marco," Vance adjusted his tie. "Rosa gave me free bread when I was poor. I like Rosa. Which is why I texted you from her phone instead of arresting her. I intercepted Dante's men. We know you're here for the Brooks collateral."
"You want the girl?" Marco asked, his hand hovering near his shoulder holster.
"I don't care about a waitress," Vance scoffed. "Dante wants the emerald. Hand it over, and you and the girl can walk away. Keep it, and Dante's men burn the brownstone with your mother inside."
Open two: If we give Vance the emerald, New York wins. If we fight, Rosa dies. Is there a third option?
I felt the heavy leather box in my coat pocket. My father had stolen this stone. He had ruined his life, pledged his daughter, and died to protect a little boy, all while this cursed jewel sat in a wall.
I wasn't going to let it destroy my new family.
I stepped out from behind Marco.
"You want the emerald, Vance?" I asked, pulling the leather box from my pocket.
"Hannah, don't," Marco warned quietly.
"Toss it here, sweetheart," Vance smiled condescendingly.
"I'll toss it," I said, walking toward the large, open window of the apartment that overlooked the filthy, rushing waters of the Boston Harbor directly below the building. "But not to you."
I held the box out the open window, dangling it over the dark, churning water.
Vance's smile vanished. The hitmen raised their guns.
"Are you crazy?" Vance shouted. "That stone is worth twenty million dollars! If you drop it, Dante will skin you alive!"
"Dante wants the stone to prove New York’s dominance," I yelled back, the wind whipping my hair. "If I drop it in the harbor, it's gone forever. Your boss gets nothing. And you go back to New York empty-handed, Vance. How do you think Dante will reward a DA who lost a twenty-million-dollar prize?"
Vance swallowed hard, taking a step forward with his hands raised in panic. "Wait. Wait. Just bring it inside."
"Here is the deal," I said, my voice ringing with a fierce, unwavering confidence I didn't know I possessed. "Marco and I walk out of here. You call Dante and tell him the Brooks debt is paid in full. If anyone from New York ever steps foot in Boston, or threatens Rosa again, I will personally testify to the FBI about how the District Attorney is working for the New York mafia. With Marco's money, I can buy better lawyers than you."
Vance glared at me. The condescension was gone, replaced by genuine hatred. He was trapped.
"You wouldn't drop it," Vance sneered. "You're a poor waitress. You can't throw away twenty million."
"Watch me," I said.
I opened my hand.
The leather box plummeted three stories down, hitting the dark waters of the harbor with a tiny splash, instantly swallowed by the current.
Vance screamed in pure horror. The hitmen rushed to the window, staring down into the black water.
While they were distracted, Marco moved.
He didn't pull his gun. He grabbed Vance by the collar of his expensive suit and slammed him brutally against the plaster wall.
"The debt is paid, Vance," Marco hissed perfectly into the corrupt DA's ear. "Boston is closed to New York. If I ever see your face again, I will throw you in the harbor to look for it."
Marco let him go, grabbed my hand, and we walked out of the apartment.
We didn't run. We walked with the calm, absolute authority of people who had just won a war.
When we got back to Marco's SUV, I collapsed into the passenger seat, my entire body shaking with adrenaline.
Marco got into the driver's seat. He looked at me, a mixture of awe and sheer disbelief on his handsome face.
"You just threw a twenty-million-dollar emerald into the ocean," Marco laughed, shaking his head. "Hannah Brooks, you are entirely terrifying."
I looked at him, my heart pounding, and then I reached into my other coat pocket.
I pulled out my closed fist and slowly opened my fingers.
Resting in the palm of my hand, glowing beautifully in the dim light of the car, was the flawless Calabrian Emerald.
Marco stared at it, his mouth falling open. "But... I saw you drop the box."
"You saw me drop an empty leather box," I grinned, my hands finally stopping their trembling. "A waitress learns a few sleight-of-hand tricks when dealing with rude customers who try to steal the check."
Marco threw his head back and laughed—a deep, genuine, joyous sound that filled the SUV. It was the sound of a man who was finally, truly free from his family's dark legacy.
He reached over, cupping my face in his hands, and kissed me deeply.
"So," Marco murmured against my lips, "what do we do with a twenty-million-dollar rock?"
"We sell it privately," I whispered back. "We set up a trust for Rosa and my mom. And then... we open a restaurant. A small one. No bodyguards allowed."
"I love you," Marco said, resting his forehead against mine.
May you like
"I love you too," I replied.
We drove back to the brownstone as the sun set over a city that finally belonged to us. The past was buried in the harbor, the debt was paid, and for the first time in my life, I wasn't afraid of the dark.
