Chapter 8 - THE NIGHT NICO CHOSE US OVER THE EMPIRE
I did go to my mother's house.
But I didn't go alone.
And I didn't go inside.
An ambulance brought me within three blocks.
A detective named Hannah Cole sat beside me.
Lila remained at St. Catherine's with Teresa and three police officers.
Leaving her felt like tearing out something physical from my chest.
But bringing her was impossible.
Before I stepped from the ambulance, I kissed her forehead for nearly a full minute.
“Your daddy is an idiot,” I whispered.
Teresa snorted.
“Genetic.”
Then she took my daughter.
“Bring my idiot home.”
My mother's street looked exactly as it had when I was a child.
Small Cape Cod houses.
Old maples.
Blue recycling bins.
Normal.
It felt obscene that Nico might be bleeding inside the house where I once practiced algebra at the kitchen table.
Police surrounded the block quietly.
No sirens.
No Moretti vehicles.
Matteo knew their patterns too well.
Detective Cole gave me an earpiece.
“You stay behind the command vehicle.”
“I know.”
“If he calls, keep him talking.”
“I know.”
“You do not improvise.”
I looked at her.
She sighed.
“People always improvise.”
My phone rang.
Matteo.
“Where are you?”
“Outside.”
Silence.
“You came.”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“Do you really think Nico's family lets me go anywhere alone anymore?”
He laughed.
“Come inside.”
“No.”
“Ava.”
“Bring Nico to the porch.”
“No.”
“Then you don't get what you want.”
I had spent seven years watching negotiations from the edges of rooms.
Nico always thought I was reading or checking my phone.
I wasn't.
I had learned every trick.
Silence first.
Never fill it.
Let the other person need the deal more.
Matteo cracked after eleven seconds.
“What do you have?”
“The missing pages.”
That was a lie.
But a useful one.
“You found them?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“My mother hid them separately.”
“What do they say?”
I looked at Detective Cole.
She nodded.
“They prove Stefano killed Francesca.”
Matteo breathed heavily.
“And?”
“They prove Vittorio knew.”
That part was a guess.
A dangerous one.
Matteo went silent.
Then: “Knew what?”
“That your father killed her.”
“What did he do?”
I looked at the single surviving note Gerald had found in old trust files thirty minutes earlier.
A memo written by Vittorio.
Not enough for prosecution.
Enough for pain.
“He tried to have Stefano arrested.”
Matteo said nothing.
“But Stefano disappeared before police could reach him.”
“You're lying.”
“Your father didn't disappear, Matteo.”
I closed my eyes.
“He killed himself.”
Silence.
Detective Cole looked at me sharply.
That detail was real.
Vincent had confirmed it from sealed records.
Matteo had been told his father was murdered by the Morettis.
His entire life had been built around a lie.
“My father was killed,” he whispered.
“No.”
“Vittorio killed him.”
“No.”
“You don't know anything.”
“My mother did.”
Another silence.
Then I heard something in the background.
Nico.
“Don't listen to her.”
He was helping me.
Matteo snapped, “Shut up.”
Nico continued.
“She's manipulating you.”
Good.
Make Matteo prove him wrong.
“You think I'm stupid?” Matteo shouted.
“No,” Nico said. “I think you're exactly like your father.”
Gunshot.
I screamed.
The police moved.
“Hold!” Detective Cole ordered.
My heart slammed.
“Nico!”
His voice came through strained.
“Still here.”
I nearly collapsed.
Matteo was breathing hard.
“You want to see the pages?” I asked quickly.
“Yes.”
“Bring Nico outside.”
“No.”
“Then burn with your lies.”
I disconnected.
Detective Cole stared at me.
“You hung up?”
“He needs me to call back.”
“He has a hostage.”
“He needs the pages more.”
My phone rang twelve seconds later.
Matteo.
I answered.
“Front porch.”
The door opened.
Matteo emerged first.
Gun in hand.
Nico followed.
His left shoulder was soaked with blood.
His hands were bound.
I stopped breathing.
Even from half a block away, I knew the way he moved.
Too stiff.
Too pale.
Matteo held the gun against his neck.
“Come closer.”
“No.”
“Ava.”
“Release him.”
“Show me the pages.”
I lifted a large envelope.
Empty except for photocopies of irrelevant accounting records.
Matteo couldn't know that from thirty yards away.
“First Nico.”
Nico's eyes found me.
He looked furious.
Not with Matteo.
With me.
He mouthed, Go.
I shook my head.
Matteo laughed.
“Romantic.”
Then he looked at Nico.
“You chose her.”
Nico said nothing.
“You always chose her.”
Still nothing.
“That was your weakness.”
Nico finally smiled.
“No.”
Blood ran down his sleeve.
“That was the first smart thing I ever did.”
My throat closed.
Matteo pressed the gun harder.
“You left her in labor.”
Nico's smile disappeared.
“Yes.”
“Went running to Bianca.”
“Yes.”
“Some choice.”
Nico looked directly at me.
“No.”
His voice was steady.
“That was me choosing the empire.”
He turned back to Matteo.
“And it cost me everything that mattered.”
Matteo laughed.
“You still have the empire.”
Nico's answer changed the rest of our lives.
“Take it.”
Matteo froze.
So did I.
Nico continued.
“The warehouses. The routes. The cash businesses. Every illegal operation. Take all of it.”
“You think I'm stupid?”
“I think you want a throne more than you care what it's made of.”
Nico looked toward me.
“My daughter gets the legitimate companies.”
Matteo's face changed.
“You can't—”
“I can.”
Nico smiled.
“Gerald executed the transfer this morning.”
I stared.
Nobody had told me.
“The trust is activated,” Nico said. “Lila owns her share. Ava controls it until she's twenty-five.”
Matteo looked toward my envelope.
“The key—”
“Is irrelevant now.”
For the first time, Matteo looked truly afraid.
His life's plan was gone.
Not hidden.
Not delayed.
Gone.
He raised the gun.
Detective Cole shouted, “Police!”
Everything happened instantly.
Matteo dragged Nico backward.
Officers moved from both sides.
I dropped behind the command vehicle.
Gunfire cracked.
Glass shattered.
Then silence.
Three seconds.
Five.
Ten.
I stood despite Detective Cole trying to stop me.
Nico was on the ground.
Matteo was too.
Police surrounded them.
I ran.
I shouldn't have.
I had given birth less than two days earlier.
Pain tore through my body.
I ran anyway.
“Nico!”
He rolled onto his back.
Alive.
His shoulder wound was worse.
A new graze marked his side.
But he was alive.
I dropped beside him.
He looked at me.
“You weren't supposed to come.”
I started crying.
“You weren't supposed to get kidnapped.”
“Fair.”
I hit his good shoulder.
He winced.
“Also fair.”
Paramedics reached us.
I grabbed his face with both hands.
“Don't ever do that again.”
“Get kidnapped?”
“Choose an empire over us.”
Nico's eyes filled.
“Never.”
“You don't get to promise things because you're bleeding.”
“Then ask me tomorrow.”
A broken laugh escaped me.
He touched my wrist.
The exact posture from the photograph.
A man's hand around a woman's wrist.
A woman touching his face.
Only now I understood how little a photograph could tell you.
And how much a pattern could.
Bianca hadn't destroyed us with one picture.
Nico had nearly destroyed us with years of choices.
That meant one dramatic rescue couldn't repair us either.
He knew it.
I knew it.
As the paramedics lifted him, he held my hand.
“I meant it.”
“What?”
“The empire.”
“You'd give it away?”
“The illegal part.”
He looked toward the house.
“Burn it if necessary.”
“That's all you've ever known.”
“No.”
His eyes met mine.
“I know you.”
Then he closed his eyes as the ambulance doors shut.
Matteo survived.
He was arrested for kidnapping, attempted murder, conspiracy, extortion, and enough financial crimes to make Gerald Shaw smile for the first time in days.
The ledger destroyed the myth he had built his life around.
His mother had been betrayed.
But not by the people he had spent twenty years punishing.
Bianca accepted a federal cooperation agreement.
Nico kept his promise and returned her mother's house.
And Nico Moretti did something nobody in New York or New Jersey expected.
He dismantled his own criminal organization.
Not overnight.
Not cleanly.
But completely.
And for the first time since I met him, when people asked what came first—
May you like
The Moretti empire or his family—
Nico finally gave the right answer.
