Chapter 16 - The Sins of Anthony Costa
The documents arrived three days later.
Not through a secret handoff.
Not in a mysterious briefcase.
They came through attorneys working with investigators who had obtained records during the expanding inquiry into Salvatore's business activities.
Damian wasn't given unrestricted access to everything.
Some documents remained under review.
Others contained protected information about unrelated families.
But what his attorney was permitted to share was enough.
Anthony Costa had supplied money to Saint Agnes.
That wasn't surprising.
The family had funded hospitals, charities, and community foundations for decades.
The troubling part was how some payments had been recorded.
Several had been routed through consulting agreements with no clear services attached.
Correspondence suggested that Anthony knew clinic administrators faced complaints involving adoption consent and missing records.
One letter was particularly disturbing.
It referred to a child whose placement could not be finalized because the birth mother continued contesting the paperwork.
The letter did not identify the child by name.
But the dates matched Julia's account.
And Anthony's handwritten response contained a chilling instruction:
Keep Beatrice out of this. She is becoming emotionally attached.
Damian read the sentence three times.
He remembered his father as a man who could enter a room and make everyone straighten their backs.
A man who spoke of honor while ordering cruel things done in its name.
A man who'd taught Damian never to confuse affection with obligation.
Now he understood something he hadn't before.
Anthony hadn't feared Beatrice's weakness.
He'd feared her conscience.
Damian's attorney, Marcus Bell, closed the folder.
"We need to be careful about what these documents establish."
Damian nodded.
"They don't prove every allegation."
"No. But they may corroborate improper financial arrangements and efforts to interfere with an investigation."
"And Salvatore?"
"His role is still being examined. We shouldn't treat suspicion as a conviction."
Damian leaned back.
"What about my involvement?"
Marcus held his gaze.
"That's going to be difficult."
"How difficult?"
"You approved transactions connected to Salvatore's operations. You were involved in decisions investigators may view as criminal. Your father's conduct doesn't erase your own."
Damian looked toward the window.
"I know."
Marcus continued.
"If you're serious about cooperating, that has to mean truthful disclosures, preservation of records, and accepting legal consequences. Not just giving investigators information about people you dislike."
Damian nodded slowly.
"Understood."
That afternoon, Damian visited his father's grave.
The Costa family mausoleum stood beneath a line of dark cypress trees.
White marble.
Bronze doors.
A name carved in enormous letters.
Anthony Costa.
Damian stood there alone.
He remembered being nine years old and watching his father slap a waiter for spilling wine.
He remembered being fourteen and receiving praise for refusing to cry at his grandmother's funeral.
He remembered being nineteen and inheriting men who expected him to be ruthless.
For years, he'd mistaken becoming his father for honoring him.
Now he spoke aloud into the quiet cemetery.
"You made her afraid."
The words sounded strange.
Not because Anthony was dead.
Because Damian had never spoken to him without fear.
"You made everybody afraid."
He looked at the grave.
"And I thought that meant they respected you."
The wind moved through the trees.
Damian stayed until the sun began to set.
Then he left.
When he returned to the estate, he found Tessa in the garden.
She was planting herbs in a raised wooden bed Beatrice could see from her bedroom.
"Your gardener is going to be offended," Damian said.
Tessa looked up.
"He gave me the plants."
"Then he's an accomplice."
"Definitely."
Damian crouched beside her.
She studied him.
"Something happened."
"Yes."
"Bad?"
"Old."
She waited.
He told her about the documents.
Not every detail.
Only what concerned the clinic and the family.
Tessa listened without interrupting.
When he finished, she pressed soil around a basil plant.
"Your father knew."
"It appears he knew Julia was trying to find her daughter."
"And he didn't help."
"No."
She sat back on her heels.
For a moment, Damian expected anger.
He would have accepted it.
But Tessa looked profoundly sad.
"Margaret spent her life afraid of something she couldn't fix."
Damian nodded.
"Yes."
"Julia spent hers looking for me."
"Yes."
"And Beatrice thought I'd died."
"Possibly."
Tessa looked at him.
"One man made all those people suffer because he didn't want to be embarrassed."
Damian said nothing.
She wiped her hands on a cloth.
"Do you understand why I can't just pretend your family is different now?"
"Yes."
"Good."
She stood.
Damian rose with her.
Then she added, "I also know you're not your father."
He looked at her.
"Not completely."
The qualification hurt more than reassurance would have.
But it was fair.
That night, Damian authorized his attorneys to provide additional records requested by investigators.
He also began restructuring the estate's ownership and operations so employees, healthcare providers, and legitimate businesses wouldn't be left without wages or services if his personal legal situation deteriorated.
No grand speech.
No public declaration of redemption.
Just paperwork, difficult meetings, and decisions that cost him money and control.
Three days later, Damian received formal notice to appear for questioning in connection with the ongoing financial investigation.
He told Tessa himself.
She listened quietly.
"Are you going to be arrested?"
"I don't know."
"Are you afraid?"
Damian considered lying.
Then he answered.
"Yes."
Tessa nodded.
"What will you do?"
"Tell the truth."
She studied him.
"Even the parts that make you look terrible?"
"Especially those."
For the first time, she believed he understood what that would cost.
But the next morning, before Damian's scheduled interview, Beatrice suffered a sudden medical crisis.
Her breathing became labored.
May you like
Her oxygen level dropped.
And when the ambulance arrived, Tessa stood at the doorway holding the old woman's slippers, terrified that the next time she entered Room 104, the bed would be empty.
