Chapter 17 - The Interrogation
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Emily stared at the envelope of money. It was everything she had ever struggled for. Freedom. Security. Justice for Tommy.
She stood up, picking up the heavy manila folder containing her brother's records and clutching it tightly to her chest.
But she didn't touch the envelope of money.
“I don't want your money, Mr. Ferrara,” Emily said, her voice quiet but absolutely resolute.
Santino frowned, genuine confusion crossing his sharp features. “It is not a bribe, Emily. It is restitution. You earned it by saving my life.”
“I didn't save your life for money,” Emily replied, looking him dead in the eye. “I jumped into that pool because you were drowning, and no one should have to drown alone.”
She turned on her heel and walked toward the heavy mahogany doors of the study.
“Emily,” Santino called out, his voice suddenly thick with an emotion she couldn't quite identify. It sounded almost like desperation.
She stopped with her hand on the brass doorknob, looking back over her shoulder.
The most powerful, ruthless man in Rhode Island sat in his wheelchair, looking entirely defeated by a penniless secretary who refused to take his money.
“Where will you go?” Santino asked quietly.
“I don't know,” Emily answered honestly. “I have spent three years living for a ghost. I suppose I have to figure out how to live for myself now.”
She opened the door and walked out into the grand, silent hallway of the mansion.
The estate staff parted for her as she walked toward the front entrance. Enzo stood by the door, holding her cheap winter coat. He offered her a deeply respectful bow as he helped her slip it on.
“You are a very brave woman, Miss Taylor,” Enzo murmured softly.
“Just stubborn, Enzo,” Emily smiled sadly.
She walked out the front doors and into the cool, crisp Newport night. The stars were shining brightly over the ocean. The air smelled of salt and freedom.
She didn't wait for the bus this time. She walked down the long, winding driveway, the crunch of the gravel beneath her shoes sounding like the breaking of chains.
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She had her answers. She had her justice.
But as she reached the massive iron gates at the edge of the property, a sleek, black armored sedan pulled up beside her, the tires crunching to a halt.
