Page 37 of Ivory Legacy

“I don’t know if I have a choice,” she murmured, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the grain of the wooden table.

At her words, a weight settled over me, thick as the fog that rolled in off the bay. I buried my head in my hands, my mind racing with the implications of what she wasn’t saying. Harbor Cove was more than just a scenic escape—it was a line drawn in the sand, a barrier against the life I led. And I was beginning to realize that maybe it wasn’t just the city she was trying to escape from.

I forked the last crumb of croissant into my mouth, feeling the buttery flakes dissolve on my tongue. The morning light filtered through the gauzy curtains of Jade’s dining room, casting a soft glow on her face. She looked ethereal, almost too pure for the world I came from—a world that could stain even the brightest souls.

“Right,” I said, clearing my throat, trying to shift the focus. “That’s what we need to talk about.” I watched her, noting the way her fingers wrapped around the mug of decaf coffee, a shield against whatever I might say next.

She waited for me.

“Jade, have you ever heard about something called RICO?”

Chapter Eighteen: Jade

Ihad heard about RICO. I didn’t know what it stood for, exactly…all I knew was that it wasn’t good.

The chill of the early morning winter air seeped into the Harbor Cove apartment, but Dante seemed oblivious to it as he stood up abruptly. He jammed his hands into his pajama pockets, a clear signal that his mind churned with far more troubling thoughts than the cold could impose. “Jade,” he started, voice low and urgent, “there’s a lot I need to tell you.”

Without waiting for a response, he began pacing back and forth, his every step a silent drumbeat of worry.

I watched him, my sleep-tousled hair likely a wild contrast to my sudden spike in alertness. His normally composed demeanor was frayed at the edges, replaced by a tension that didn’t suit him. “Dante, what is it?” I asked, my curiosity piqued despite the unease clenching my stomach. “You just mentioned something about RICO. What is it?”

His pacing halted, and for a moment he simply stared out the window where dawn painted the sky in pale streaks of color. It was a rare glimpse into the vulnerability he so expertly concealed, a vulnerability that seemed to be growing the longer he stayed silent.

Dante halted mid-stride, the muscles in his jaw working as he turned to face me. The early light cast half his face in shadow, making his expression all the more inscrutable. “Jade,” he began, the weight of his words hovering between us, “the RICO case—it’s not just an investigation; it’s a noose.”

“RICO?” I echoed, folding my arms across my chest. “You mean the law they use to take down organized crime?”

He nodded once, sharply, the lines around his eyes deepening. “Exactly. And the Carusos...they’re pushing for it, hard. They’ve got a vendetta against my family that goes way back, and now...” Dante’s voice trailed off, and he looked away, his gaze finding some distant point of concern.

“Tell me what RICO actually means, Dante. I need to know. And then tell me what the Carusos have to do with it.”

Dante’s gaze hardened as he turned to face me, the intensity in his dark eyes revealing a struggle between his instinct to shield me and his newfound openness. With a deep sigh, he sank into the armchair across from me, his tall figure seeming suddenly weary.

“RICO stands for the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act,” he began, his voice taking on a chillingly calm cadence. “It gives the government power to bring chargesagainst an entire organization based on crimes committed by any member of that organization.”

“Okay. Now tell me about the Carusos and their vendetta,” I said, stepping closer, trying to read his guarded eyes.

Dante raked a hand through his hair, then let out a long breath. “It’s blood for blood, an endless cycle. My great-grandfather took something from them—a shipment, a territory, respect—it doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is the legacy of hatred it fostered. The Carusos won’t rest until the Morettis are destroyed, or vice versa.”

“But the Carusos don’t have anything to do with the FBI, right? Like it would be against their best interest to help you with the law.”

Dante laughed, a hollow sound that echoed in the quiet room. “Assisting the law? No. The Carusos wouldn’t stoop so low. But they have no problem capitalizing on our misfortune. If the RICO case against the Morettis goes through, then the Carusos will have free rein over our territory.”

“Wouldn’t the police clean it up?”

“I mean, they’d try,” Dante said. “But the Carusos know how to play the game. They’ve been at it just as long, if not longer than we have. They have people in their pockets, and they’re not afraid to play dirty. And if I’m locked up, Jade, who’s going to defend you? Who’s going to defend our baby?”

“Are you saying... I’m a target now?” My voice was steady, too steady for the chaos brewing within.

“Jade, listen—“ Dante began, but I raised a hand to stop him.

“Give it to me straight. What does this mean for us—for me?” I demanded.

He hesitated, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “It means danger, the kind that doesn’t knock before it enters your life.”

I felt his words in my bones, a cold dread that didn’t need the chill of early winter to manifest. As the analytical gears in my brain churned, I struggled with the gravity of our entanglement. I was no stranger to complex equations or intricate research, but nothing could’ve prepared me for the calculus of the criminal underworld.

“Tell me something,” I said, crossing my arms, trying to armor myself against the vulnerability seeping into every pore. “Tell me about them—the Carusos.”

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