Chapter 3 - THE MAFIA BOSS COULD HAVE KILLED THE MAN WHO MURDERED HER FATHER—BUT WHEN HE LOWERED HIS GUN FOR MARGOT, SHE REALIZED THE MOST DANGEROUS CHANGE WAS HAPPENING INSIDE BOTH OF THEMSamuel Ror survived.
Margot was glad.
Emmett was less enthusiastic.
“You shot him.”
“In the shoulder.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“I had alternatives.”
Margot looked over her coffee.
“You're learning.”
“Painfully.”
Toby recovered quickly.
Children sometimes did.
Adults carried the terror longer.
Ruth did.
For three nights, she slept beside Toby's bed.
Margot stayed the first night.
Emmett paid for security.
Ruth initially refused.
Margot convinced her.
There was a difference between accepting help and surrendering control.
Margot was learning that too.
The federal investigation exploded.
Samuel's organization reached through customs offices, unions, police departments and private shipping companies.
Caldwell was arrested.
Arthur Pell was found alive in Vermont.
He had fled after realizing Samuel intended to kill him.
He cooperated.
Doyle was cleared.
The seven names in Emmett's notebook finally made sense.
They weren't enemies.
They were people who had known pieces of the truth.
Four dead.
Three surviving.
Because Margot had noticed metal buttons on the wrong uniform, the killing stopped.
Newspapers called her a hero.
Margot hated it.
One reporter waited outside Ardmore.
“Ms. Seer, how does it feel to save Emmett Ror?”
“I hit a wrist with a tray.”
“You prevented an assassination.”
“Yes.”
“Were you afraid?”
“Obviously.”
The reporter seemed disappointed.
People preferred heroes who claimed not to feel fear.
Margot continued:
“Being afraid doesn't mean you stop knowing what needs to be done.”
That quote appeared everywhere.
She hated that too.
Then federal prosecutors came for Emmett.
Margot learned from him.
Not newspapers.
He came to her apartment.
“May I come in?”
“Yes.”
He entered.
No guards.
No expensive coat.
Just Emmett.
“They offered me a cooperation agreement.”
Margot sat.
“For Samuel?”
“And others.”
“What do they want?”
“Everything.”
She understood.
His businesses.
Crimes.
Names.
History.
“What happens to you?”
“Depends what I admit.”
“What have you done?”
Emmett looked at her.
“Things you won't like.”
“That's not an answer.”
“No.”
He sat opposite.
“I've ordered men beaten.”
Margot remained still.
“I've paid officials.”
Still.
“I've moved illegal goods.”
“What goods?”
“Liquor. Untaxed cigarettes. Gambling equipment. Cash.”
“Drugs?”
“No.”
“People?”
“Never.”
“Murder?”
Long silence.
“I have never ordered an execution.”
“That wording was careful.”
“Yes.”
“Have people died because of decisions you made?”
“Yes.”
Margot closed her eyes.
She appreciated honesty.
She hated the answer.
“Why are you telling me?”
“Because I'm tired of people knowing only the version of me they're permitted to survive knowing.”
Margot looked at him.
“What do you want from me?”
“Nothing.”
“Advice?”
“No.”
“Forgiveness?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Emmett's voice became quiet.
“Because if you ever choose to care about me, I don't want that choice based on a lie.”
Margot's heart hurt.
She stood.
Walked to the window.
Snow outside.
Boston lights.
“I do care.”
Emmett said nothing.
“That doesn't mean I approve.”
“I know.”
“It doesn't mean I'm going to tell you you're secretly a good man.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
She turned.
“Because I don't know if you are.”
Emmett accepted it.
“Neither do I.”
That answer changed something.
Margot crossed the room.
She kissed him.
Once.
Then stepped back.
Emmett looked stunned.
“That was badly timed.”
“Yes.”
“Do you regret it?”
“No.”
“May I—”
“No.”
He stopped.
Margot smiled.
“Not yet.”
Emmett accepted the federal agreement.
He surrendered records.
Accounts.
Properties.
Politicians.
Police.
Criminal associates.
He also surrendered himself.
His attorneys predicted eighteen to thirty-six months.
Margot didn't ask him not to go.
The night before sentencing, they walked along the harbor.
“Your father stood somewhere near here,” Emmett said.
Margot nodded.
“He tried to fix something.”
“So did mine.”
“What happened to your father?”
“Stroke.”
“You loved him?”
“Yes.”
“Was he a good man?”
Emmett thought.
“No.”
Margot looked at him.
“But he sometimes tried to be better than the man he'd been.”
“Is that enough?”
“No.”
Emmett watched the water.
“But it's better than not trying.”
Margot understood.
Emmett received twenty-two months.
Samuel received life.
Caldwell twenty-eight years.
Pell entered witness protection.
Ruth received compensation from a victims' fund created from seized assets.
Margot's father's death certificate was amended.
Not accident.
Homicide.
She took the document to her mother's grave.
Sat.
Cried.
Then laughed.
“Dad was always terrible at walking away.”
Wind moved through the cemetery.
Margot touched Deborah's name.
“You knew, didn't you?”
She would never know the answer.
That was okay.
Not every question received one.
Emmett wrote from prison.
Not romantic novels.
Short letters.
The food is criminal, which feels ironic.
Margot replied.
That joke was terrible. Your sentence should be extended.
Another:
Doyle sent me a photograph of Diesel. The animal dislikes me.
Margot:
Diesel has excellent judgment.
Months passed.
Margot returned to nursing school.
She was twenty-eight.
Older than most students.
Terrified.
Her old credits transferred partially.
Tuition remained difficult.
Emmett offered money once.
She refused.
He never offered again.
Margot worked weekends.
Studied nights.
Toby helped quiz her.
Mostly incorrectly.
Diesel contributed nothing.
Emmett was released after nineteen months for good behavior.
Margot didn't meet him outside.
Doyle did.
Margot had an exam.
Emmett loved that.
That evening he waited outside the nursing building.
She walked toward him.
Stopped.
He looked different.
Thinner.
Less polished.
Human.
“Hello.”
“Hello.”
“How was the exam?”
“I think I passed.”
“Excellent.”
“How was prison?”
“I think I passed.”
Margot laughed.
Then hugged him.
He held her carefully.
“You came back.”
“Yes.”
“You could have disappeared.”
“I know.”
She stepped back.
“I don't want to disappear.”
Emmett looked at her.
“Dinner?”
“Yes.”
“Expensive?”
“No.”
“Cheap?”
“Yes.”
He sighed.
“You've changed.”
“Not remotely.”
They dated.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Like adults carrying too much history.
They argued.
Emmett sometimes confused protection with control.
Margot corrected him.
Once, after she came home at 1 a.m. from a hospital shift, she discovered a security car outside her apartment.
She called him.
“Remove it.”
“Margot—”
“Remove it.”
“There was a threat last week.”
“To you.”
“And you are—”
“Don't finish that sentence.”
Silence.
“You were about to say I'm important to you.”
“Yes.”
“That doesn't make me your property.”
“I know.”
“Then act like you know.”
The car disappeared ten minutes later.
The next morning Emmett apologized.
No excuses.
Margot accepted.
That was how they built something.
Not through perfection.
Repair.
A year later Margot became a registered nurse.
At graduation, she looked into the audience.
Ruth.
Toby.
Ada.
Doyle.
And Emmett.
Emmett Ror, once capable of making half the harbor whisper, was openly crying.
Margot pointed at him from the stage.
He shook his head.
She laughed.
Afterward he gave her a box.
Margot frowned.
“If that's jewelry—”
“Open it.”
Inside was her father's brass dock token.
Cleaned.
Preserved.
Mounted behind glass.
Below it:
DANIEL SEER
HE SAW WHAT OTHERS CHOSE NOT TO SEE.
Margot couldn't speak.
Emmett said:
“I thought you should have it.”
She kissed him.
“Thank you.”
Then:
“Still not marrying you.”
“I didn't ask.”
“You were thinking.”
“I frequently think.”
“Dangerous habit.”
He smiled.
Three months later, Emmett disappeared.
Not voluntarily.
Doyle called at 5:12 a.m.
“Margot.”
She sat up.
“What?”
“Emmett's car was found near Pier Seven.”
Empty.
Blood on the driver's seat.
Phone smashed.
Doyle's next words made Margot's entire body cold.
“We can't find him.”
The old fear returned.
But so did something stronger.
The part of Margot that functioned while everyone else panicked.
“Don't touch the car.”
Doyle stopped.
“What?”
“Don't let anyone clean anything.”
“Police are coming.”
“Good.”
“Margot—”
“What kind of blood?”
“We don't know.”
“How much?”
“Not much.”
“Then stop telling yourself he's dead.”
Silence.
Margot got dressed.
Her hands did not shake.
May you like
Not yet.
Something needed to be done.
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