Chapter 6 - The Price of Trusting the Wrong Man
Damian returned the following morning carrying no flowers, gifts, or promises.
He brought a stack of financial reports.
Aurora was sitting beside the hospital window when he entered.
She didn't invite him to sit.
“I asked you to leave.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because you were right.”
Aurora looked at him.
Damian placed the reports on the table.
“My signature authorized the accounts. Graham controlled the individual shipments, but I signed the approval that allowed the system to operate.”
“Were you stealing medical supplies?”
“No.”
“Were you running an illegal shipping business?”
He hesitated.
Aurora's eyes hardened.
“Answer me.”
“Yes.”
The word seemed to drain the room of air.
Damian sat down.
“My father's organization moved contraband long before I inherited it. I expanded our legitimate freight business because I wanted a way out. But I kept parts of the old operation running.”
“Why?”
“Because I convinced myself I could control it.”
“And could you?”
He looked at the reports.
“Apparently not.”
Aurora folded her arms.
“Why should I trust anything else you say?”
“You shouldn't trust my word alone.”
He pushed the reports toward her.
“Give these to Detective Price. They're company audit records. I'm not asking you to believe me. I'm asking you to check.”
Aurora examined the first page.
It showed refrigerated medical equipment purchased by St. Brigid but redirected through a North Quay warehouse.
The payments were routed through several companies.
Some names she recognized from news articles about the Russo organization.
Others were unfamiliar.
But every transaction eventually passed through an office controlled by Graham Vale.
“Why didn't you notice?”
Damian took a breath.
“Because Graham was the person I assigned to notice.”
Aurora looked at him for a long moment.
“That isn't good enough.”
“I know.”
For the first time, she believed his regret was real.
But regret wouldn't return missing medical supplies.
And it wouldn't erase what had happened to her mother.
Detective Price arrived as Aurora was copying the documents.
She immediately took possession of the records and arranged for forensic accountants to review them.
Then she asked Damian a question.
“Would Graham profit if you died?”
Damian nodded.
“He'd control several operating accounts until my estate was settled.”
“Would Carmine Moretti benefit?”
“His organization would gain access to our western freight routes.”
“Would both men benefit from a war between your families?”
Damian stared at her.
“Yes.”
Price closed her notebook.
“Then we need to know whether Moretti was a partner or a pawn.”
That afternoon, Carmine Moretti was located at a private medical facility in suburban Chicago.
He had checked in under another name.
He wasn't injured.
But he looked like a man who had aged ten years overnight.
Detective Price questioned him with an attorney present.
Aurora and Damian were not allowed inside.
They waited in separate chairs outside the interview area.
After nearly two hours, Price emerged.
“Moretti admits he tapped the glass.”
Aurora sat forward.
“Why?”
“He says he was told the signal would make the gunman approach Damian's table after he left.”
“Approach?” Damian repeated.
Price nodded.
“He claims Graham told him the stranger would present a photograph proving you were planning to betray the truce.”
Damian gave a bitter laugh.
“And Carmine believed him?”
“Not entirely.”
Price's expression hardened.
“Moretti suspected violence. He admits he walked away because he didn't want to see what happened.”
Aurora felt sick.
“He knew someone could die.”
“Yes.”
“Why would he agree?”
Price hesitated.
“His wife Rosa has advanced medical needs. The Moretti family funds her residential care through accounts Graham helped arrange. Graham recently threatened to freeze those funds.”
Damian looked away.
Carmine had made a terrible choice.
But the reason wasn't simply greed.
That somehow made it harder to understand.
“His wife didn't ask him to murder anyone,” Aurora said quietly.
Price nodded.
“No. And he knows that.”
The detective explained that Carmine had agreed to preserve records from his own organization, though he had not yet committed to testifying.
Aurora looked toward the closed door.
“May I ask him something?”
Price considered the request, then arranged a brief, supervised conversation after Carmine's attorney agreed.
Carmine was sitting at a table when Aurora entered.
He looked at her uniform shoes.
“You're the waitress.”
“My name is Aurora Bennett.”
“I know.”
“You knew someone was going to hurt Mr. Russo.”
Carmine swallowed.
“I knew there was danger.”
“And you walked away.”
He lowered his eyes.
“I did.”
Aurora studied him.
“My mother was sick for a long time. I understand what it feels like to be afraid of losing someone.”
Carmine looked up.
“But I don't understand how you decided another person's life mattered less.”
His expression crumpled.
For a moment, he looked like an ordinary exhausted husband.
Then he said, “Graham promised nobody in the restaurant would be hurt.”
Aurora stared at him.
“Four men were shooting in a room full of people.”
“I know.”
“Then help the people who survived.”
Carmine rubbed his face.
“There are records. Financial records. But if I turn them over, everything I've built falls apart.”
Aurora stood.
“Then maybe you need to build something different.”
She left without waiting for an answer.
That evening, Detective Price received preliminary forensic findings.
The payments supposedly made to Aurora had been deposited into an account controlled by a North Quay payroll administrator.
The woman's image in the service corridor appeared to have been digitally altered.
And the original video file was missing from the restaurant's local archive.
Aurora was beginning to understand the scheme.
Someone had planned to blame a financially desperate waitress for arranging an assassination.
When she warned Damian instead, the conspirators simply turned their weapons toward her.
But one question remained.
Why had they chosen her specifically?
Price returned with the answer.
“Your mother filed a complaint about the missing St. Brigid deliveries,” she said. “It reached an outside compliance office shortly before she became too ill to work.”
Aurora held her breath.
“Did anyone investigate?”
“They requested records. The company reported that the complaint had been withdrawn.”
Aurora's voice shook.
“My mother never withdrew anything.”
Price opened the certified copy.
The withdrawal authorization carried Evelyn Bennett's signature.
But the date was impossible.
It had been signed six weeks after Evelyn died.
Aurora stared at the document.
Someone hadn't merely silenced her mother's complaint.
May you like
They had continued using her identity after her death.
And Graham Vale's office had submitted the withdrawal.
