Part 2
As Rocco left Sarah and Emma’s house that night, his phone buzzed with a message from Tony confirming the groceries had been delivered.
But Rocco’s mind was already several steps ahead.
Men like Vincent always had informants, always had eyes watching. By morning he would know that Rocco Moretti had personally visited one of his victims.
Rocco drove through rain-soaked streets, his knuckles white against the steering wheel.
For 30 years he had built his organization—30 years of careful rules and clear lines that his men knew never to cross.
Vincent had shattered those lines for what? A few thousand stolen from families who barely had enough to survive.
His phone rang.
The name on the screen made his blood pressure rise even higher.
Vincent Caruso.
“Boss,” Vincent said casually. Too casually. “Heard you were in my neighborhood tonight. Everything all right?”
Rocco kept his voice level.
“Just checking on some business, Vincent. Nothing that concerns you.”
“Of course not, boss. Just making sure nobody was causing problems in my territory. You know how protective I get about the families under my watch.”
The audacity nearly made Rocco laugh.
Vincent was bragging about protecting the same families he had been destroying.
“Speaking of families,” Rocco said slowly. “I met an interesting woman tonight. Sarah Thompson. Name ring any bells?”
The silence on the other end lasted just long enough to confirm everything.
“Thompson,” Vincent finally said. “Doesn’t sound familiar, boss. Should it?”
“Her husband Marcus apparently owed us money before he died. $15,000 plus interest. You handled the collection personally.”
“Oh… right. Yeah. That Thompson. Sad case. Husband left her with a mountain of debt. Had to recover what we could.”
Rocco pulled into the parking garage beneath his office building.
“Vincent, I need you to meet me tonight. Bring the paperwork on the Thompson account.”
“Tonight? Boss, it’s almost midnight.”
“Tonight.”
His tone left no room for argument.
“My office. 1 hour.”
He ended the call.
The next hour gave Rocco time to prepare.
He called Tony to pull every file they had on Marcus Thompson. He called his accountant for records of any loans issued during the past 2 years. He asked his security chief to gather surveillance footage of Vincent’s recent activities.
Then he made one more call.
Detective Maria Santos.
One of the few honest cops left in the city.
“Rocco,” she answered. “This better be important.”
“It is. I need you to document something. Seven families in the Riverside neighborhood have been extorted by someone claiming to work for me.”
“You’re calling the police on your own operation?”
“This wasn’t my operation,” Rocco said. “This was someone stealing my name to hurt families with children. I need records showing they were victims.”
There was a long pause.
“Send me the addresses,” Maria said. “I’ll have social services check on them tomorrow.”
“Already arranged food, medical care, and repairs,” Rocco replied. “But they’ll need protection from retaliation.”
“Rocco… what exactly are you planning?”
“What I should have done the moment someone used my reputation to starve children.”
Vincent arrived exactly 1 hour later.
He carried a thin manila folder and wore the nervous smile of a man hoping he could talk his way out of trouble.
Rocco’s office occupied the entire top floor of the building. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the harbor.
Vincent had been there many times before, but tonight he hesitated at the doorway.
“Sit,” Rocco said without looking up.
Vincent sat and placed the folder on the desk.
“Boss, if this is about the Thompson thing, I can explain.”
“Please do.”
Vincent cleared his throat.
“The husband came to me 6 months ago desperate for money. Said his wife was pregnant and they needed cash for medical bills. I told him we don’t usually do personal loans, but he begged. Offered 20% interest.”
Rocco finally looked up.
“Show me the paperwork.”
Vincent slid the document across the desk.
Rocco studied it carefully.
The signature looked convincing. The terms appeared legitimate.
Except for one detail.
“Vincent,” Rocco said quietly. “What’s today’s date?”
“November 15.”
“And when did Marcus Thompson die?”
Vincent’s face went pale.
“August. August 23.”
“So he signed this loan agreement 2 months after he was already dead.”
Silence filled the office.
Vincent’s mouth opened, but no words came.
Rocco stood and walked slowly around the desk until he was behind Vincent’s chair.
“You forged a dead man’s signature to justify stealing from his widow and daughter.”
“Boss, I can explain—”
“You took furniture from a 7-year-old girl.”
Rocco placed a hand on Vincent’s shoulder.
“You left a grieving mother with no way to feed her child. You put bruises on that child’s arm.”
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