Chapter 13 - The Bullet Meant for Diana
Diana refused to believe it.
“Why would anyone want to kill a fourteen-year-old?”
Miguel looked grim.
“Because Daniel left evidence.”
“I didn't know about it.”
“Victor's father may have believed you did.”
Dominic's face turned cold.
“He ordered a child murdered.”
Miguel nodded.
Diana sat.
The past rearranged again.
Maria hadn't simply stepped into a bullet meant for Dominic.
She may have moved because she saw the shooter aiming toward Diana.
“Does the video show it?”
Alvarez replayed enhanced footage.
The angle was difficult.
But possible.
Diana stood near the curb.
Maria looked toward her.
Then toward the shooter.
Maria moved.
The bullet struck.
Diana covered her mouth.
“She knew.”
Dominic's voice broke.
“She saw.”
For twelve years Dominic blamed himself.
The truth was somehow worse and better at once.
Maria had not died because Dominic failed to move.
She died saving her daughter.
Diana began crying.
Dominic held her.
No speeches.
No promises.
Just arms around her while grief finally changed shape.
Later, Victor was questioned.
He admitted his father believed Daniel had hidden documents with his daughter.
Anthony ordered the hit.
Victor was seventeen at the time.
“Did you know?” Diana asked through the interrogation glass.
Victor couldn't hear her.
But she needed to ask.
Alvarez eventually obtained the answer.
Yes.
Victor knew.
He had spent his entire adult life protecting his father's legacy.
Even after Anthony died, Victor continued searching for Daniel's evidence.
Eddie became useful.
Rachel became useful.
Diana became useful.
Everyone was a tool.
That was the difference between Victor and Dominic.
Both inherited violent worlds.
Dominic eventually tried to stop reproducing his father's mistakes.
Victor turned his father's mistakes into religion.
The evidence strengthened federal charges.
Victor stopped negotiating.
His trial was scheduled.
Dominic returned to the Westchester property under monitoring.
Diana visited often.
Home confinement meant exactly that.
He could walk the grounds.
Use approved devices.
Meet attorneys.
Nothing else.
Diana found the limitations amusing.
“You've been defeated by an ankle bracelet.”
Dominic looked offended.
“I prefer court-ordered jewelry.”
Rook followed him everywhere.
Marcus managed security for legitimate businesses now.
Elena returned.
Miguel remained nearby, rebuilding a relationship with Lena.
Rachel resumed work.
Slowly life became quieter.
Quiet frightened Diana at first.
She expected another attack every time a car slowed outside.
She jumped at unknown phone calls.
One night Dominic found her standing beside a window at three in the morning.
“Can't sleep?”
“No.”
He stayed several feet away.
“Do you want company?”
Diana appreciated the question.
“Yes.”
They sat.
“I keep thinking something bad is about to happen.”
“That's trauma.”
“Nurse knows.”
“Patient doesn't listen.”
She smiled.
Dominic continued.
“You should talk to someone.”
“A therapist?”
“Yes.”
“You recommending therapy twice in one month is suspicious.”
“I contain multitudes.”
She laughed.
Then grew serious.
“Will you?”
“Will I what?”
“Go too.”
He stared.
“Together?”
“No. Separately. Your therapist deserves hazard pay.”
He actually smiled.
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“Good.”
Healing happened in unremarkable ways.
Appointments.
Sleep.
Meals.
Boundaries.
Diana learned she did not need to forgive instantly.
Dominic learned asking was not weakness.
Rachel learned apologies did not create entitlement to reconciliation.
Miguel learned twenty-one years of absence could not be repaired in twenty-one days.
Even Eddie wrote letters from prison.
Diana did not open them initially.
Then one afternoon she did.
He did not ask forgiveness.
He described Maria.
Small memories Diana had forgotten.
Her terrible singing.
Her habit of burning toast.
How she danced while cleaning.
Diana cried.
Then kept the letter.
Not because Eddie deserved peace.
Because Diana deserved memories.
Months passed.
Victor's trial began.
Diana testified.
Walking into court terrified her.
Dominic could not accompany her because of home confinement.
But he called before.
“You don't owe anyone bravery.”
“Good.”
“You can be afraid.”
“I am.”
“And still walk in.”
“Yes.”
She testified for three hours.
About Eddie.
The assault.
Phone calls.
Rachel.
The ledger.
Her mother's letter.
Victor watched from the defense table.
He smiled once.
Diana stopped.
“Something funny?”
The prosecutor looked surprised.
Victor's attorney objected.
The judge instructed Diana to answer questions only.
She did.
But when she left, Victor was no longer smiling.
Rachel testified next.
Then Eddie.
Then Miguel.
Then Dominic via secured transport.
The government presented financial evidence, recordings, Maria's tape, Daniel's ledger, and surveillance.
The jury deliberated four days.
Guilty.
Racketeering.
Kidnapping conspiracy.
Attempted murder.
Witness tampering.
Multiple financial crimes.
Victor Kane would likely spend the rest of his life in federal prison.
Diana heard the verdict and felt almost nothing.
She expected celebration.
Instead, exhaustion.
Outside, Alvarez asked, “You okay?”
“I think so.”
“That's allowed.”
Diana looked at the sky.
Summer sunlight.
No snow.
No Christmas lights.
Eight months since the ER.
Her life had changed completely.
She went to Dominic's house.
He waited on the porch.
The ankle monitor still visible.
“Well?”
“Guilty.”
Dominic exhaled.
“Good.”
Diana walked toward him.
“It doesn't feel like I expected.”
“Nothing important ever does.”
She sat beside him.
Rook squeezed between them.
Diana leaned against Dominic's shoulder.
“Victor said my mother died because of me.”
Dominic stiffened.
“No.”
“The bullet was aimed at me.”
“That does not make her death your fault.”
“I know intellectually.”
“Then borrow my certainty until you know emotionally.”
Diana looked at him.
“That was annoyingly good.”
“Therapy.”
She smiled.
He took her hand.
“Maria chose love.”
Diana cried quietly.
“She chose you.”
That truth began settling somewhere deep.
Then Dominic handed her an envelope.
“What is this?”
“Something your mother arranged.”
Diana frowned.
“She can't keep surprising me twelve years later.”
“Apparently she can.”
Inside was a deed.
A property.
Diana recognized the address.
Her childhood home in Astoria.
“How?”
“Your mother transferred ownership into a trust before she died.”
“I thought it was sold.”
“The trust leased it long-term.”
“Why didn't anyone tell me?”
“The conditions required you to turn twenty-seven.”
Diana stared.
“My birthday is next week.”
Dominic smiled.
“Happy early birthday.”
She looked at the deed.
The house where Daniel taught her to read.
Where Maria danced while cooking.
Where evidence slept inside walls.
A home that had waited for her.
Diana whispered, “I want to see it.”
Dominic glanced at his ankle monitor.
She laughed.
“Right.”
Then an idea formed.
“What?”
Diana looked at him.
“I think I know what I want to do with it.”
“What?”
She smiled.
“Something my parents would have liked.”
And for once, the next chapter of Diana's life would not be decided by fear, crime, or somebody else's promise.
She would choose it herself.
May you like
Continued in Chapter 14…
---
