Chapter 6 - Lorenzo Duca Changed the Rules
Six months later, the Duca name appeared in newspapers for a reason nobody expected.
Lorenzo sold three companies tied to illegal operations.
He closed two others.
He handed financial records to federal investigators and cooperated in cases involving former associates.
People called him weak.
Others called him suicidal.
Lorenzo called it cleaning house.
Vincent stayed beside him.
One afternoon, I found the two arguing in the kitchen.
“You can’t fire everyone,” Vincent said.
“Watch me.”
“You fired fourteen people this month.”
“Fifteen.”
“Who?”
“Anthony.”
“What did Anthony do?”
“He stole my yogurt.”
Vincent stared at him.
“You fired a man over yogurt?”
“It had my name on it.”
I walked past them in my nursing-school uniform.
“Powerful criminal empire you’re running.”
Lorenzo pointed at me.
“Former criminal empire.”
Vincent muttered, “Currently a dairy dictatorship.”
Emma ran into the kitchen wearing a tiny backpack.
Lorenzo crouched.
“What happened at preschool?”
“Benjamin pushed Chloe.”
“What did you do?”
“I told teacher.”
He nodded approvingly.
“Correct.”
“And then I pushed Benjamin.”
Lorenzo paused.
I crossed my arms.
He looked at me.
“You’re handling this.”
“Absolutely.”
Emma frowned.
“But Mr. Lorenzo says protect people.”
Lorenzo immediately said, “Verbally.”
“You never said verbally.”
“I’m saying it now.”
Parenting, I discovered, terrified Lorenzo Duca far more than bullets.
Sofia, Isabella, and Marco eventually accepted plea agreements after the evidence against them became overwhelming.
Their power disappeared.
Their money was frozen.
Their allies vanished.
The estate became quieter.
Then one evening Lorenzo found me outside the gardening shed.
I hadn’t entered it since the shooting.
Emma had.
She was inside organizing her toy medical kit.
Lorenzo stopped beside me.
“You still hate this place?”
“I never hated it.”
“You avoid it.”
“I remember too much.”
“So do I.”
We watched Emma place her stuffed rabbit on the exact spot where Lorenzo had almost died.
“She changed my life,” he said.
“She’s three. She changes everyone’s life whether they consent or not.”
He smiled.
Then his expression became serious.
“I spent twenty years believing fear kept people loyal.”
“And?”
“I was wrong.”
“What keeps them loyal?”
He looked through the doorway at Emma.
“Being worth staying for.”
That was probably the most vulnerable sentence I had ever heard from him.
So naturally, I ruined the moment.
“You’ve been watching motivational videos.”
“Grace.”
“I knew it.”
He laughed.
And I realized something else had changed.
May you like
I was no longer afraid of that laugh.
Or of him.
