Chapter 10: The Weight of What He Built
The federal prosecutor's office received Philip's submission at 4:47 p.m.
Amara was back at the apartment when Philip called to confirm.
"It's in," he said.
"The recording regarding Raymond Chu has been flagged as priority.
They're moving tonight."
"Tonight."
"They were already close, Amara.
This accelerated the timeline.
The warrant for Dante's financial records — the ones beyond what we already have — that's going to be executed in the next twenty-four hours."
She sat down on the edge of the bed.
"He's going to know it came from me."
"He's going to suspect.
He can't prove it." Philip paused.
"Victor Cass is going to file an emergency injunction tomorrow morning trying to freeze your divorce proceedings.
It won't hold, but it will buy Dante a few days."
"Let him have the days."
"That's exactly the right answer." A pause.
"How are you?"
The question was simple.
She wasn't sure she had an answer.
"I'm tired," she said.
"And I'm fine."
"Get some sleep.
Tomorrow is going to be loud."
She hung up.
The apartment was quiet.
The lamp in the corner.
The baby monitor still in its box on the counter.
She should put it together.
She would need it in three months.
She stood and picked up the box.
Her phone buzzed.
Dante.
Again.
She looked at the screen for a moment.
Then she set the phone face-down, sat on the floor with the baby monitor box in her lap, and began to read the instructions.
Her daughter kicked twice, slow and deliberate, as if to say: *I'm still here.
Keep going.*
"I know," Amara said.
"I know."
She didn't sleep until after midnight.
But when she did, it was the first real sleep she'd had in weeks — deep and still, without the sound of Dante's voice somewhere in the house, without the weight of a secret she was still keeping.
The secret was out now.
All of them were.
---
In the morning, she made coffee and stood at the window and watched the street below.
No black SUV.
No men in parked cars.
Just Chicago.
Wet and gray and ordinary.
Her phone rang at 8 a.m.
A number she didn't recognize — different from Hale's, different from the unknown number that had warned her about Grace.
She answered.
"Mrs.
Moretti." A woman's voice.
Calm and precise.
"My name is Assistant U.S.
Attorney Diana Reyes.
I believe you've already been in contact with Agent Hale, and I understand your attorney submitted materials to our office yesterday afternoon."
"That's correct."
"I want to be transparent with you.
Based on what we received, we're moving to execute a warrant on Dante Moretti's financial holdings today.
This is going to become public.
Probably by this afternoon."
Amara looked out the window.
"I understand," she said.
"I also want you to know that your name does not appear in any of our filings.
Your attorney structured the submission carefully.
As far as the public record is concerned, you are a spouse in divorce proceedings.
Nothing more."
"Thank you."
A pause.
"Mrs.
Moretti — the source inside our bureau that was mentioned in the recordings.
We've already identified them.
They've been removed from the investigation." Her voice was steady.
"Your cooperation — indirect as it was — protected the integrity of this case."
Amara was quiet for a moment.
"I didn't cooperate," she said.
"I got out.
Someone else made sure the right people had the right information."
"Yes," Reyes said.
"She did."
Selena.
"Is she safe?" Amara asked.
"She's in protective custody as of last night.
Voluntarily." A pause.
"She asked me to tell you — and I'm passing this along because she was quite specific — she asked me to tell you that she hopes your daughter has your eyes."
Amara's throat tightened.
May you like
She didn't answer that.
She didn't need to.
