Chapter 15 - THE NUMBER I NO LONGER KEPT UNDER “EMERGENCY”A year after the assault, I moved into a one-bedroom apartment in Queens.
Not luxurious.
Fifth floor.
Old radiators.
Kitchen too small for two people to open drawers simultaneously.
I loved it.
The lease had my name.
The utilities had my name.
Nobody could remind me whose roof I stood beneath.
One evening Vincent came for dinner.
I made pasta.
He complained the sauce needed salt.
I told him feared Mafia bosses could cook for themselves.
He actually laughed.
That still surprised me.
After dinner he helped carry plates to the sink.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
Declined it.
“Business?”
“Yes.”
I didn’t ask which kind.
Boundaries worked both directions.
Before leaving, he stood beside the door.
“Your mother would hate that you have me over.”
“She would hate your tie first.”
He looked down.
“Expensive tie.”
“Ugly tie.”
Another almost-smile.
Then he said:
“She would be proud of you.”
The words hurt.
I looked away.
“Don’t speak for her.”
Vincent became still.
Then nodded.
“You’re right.”
That might have been the moment I trusted him most.
Not because he knew the perfect thing to say.
Because I told him he crossed a line and he moved back.
Derek never could.
Vincent opened the door.
“Call if you need anything.”
I raised an eyebrow.
He corrected himself.
“Call if you want anything.”
“Better.”
After he left, I picked up my phone.
For seventeen years his number had been saved exactly how my mother entered it:
V.M. — EMERGENCY ONLY
I stared at it.
Then changed the contact.
Vincent.
Nothing else.
Not savior.
Not danger.
Not debt.
Just his name.
The criminal case involving Derek had resolved by then through the normal court process, with penalties and mandated conditions I did not consider mine to celebrate.
His financial problems remained his.
My marriage was over.
My arm worked well enough to carry a tray again, though cold weather still made the break ache.
The urgent crisis had ended.
Only one question remained.
Whether Vincent Moretti could ever become family to me without recreating the very system my mother ran from.
I did not know.
For once, I wasn’t afraid of not knowing.
May you like
My phone stayed quiet on the counter.
And I went to bed without needing anyone powerful to stand outside the door.
