“Mr. DeLuca, how do you plead to Count One, racketeering conspiracy?” the judge asked.

“Guilty, Your Honor,” Adrian said.

“How do you plead to Count Two, extortion?”

“Guilty,” Adrian said.

“How do you plead to Count Three?”

“Guilty.”

He repeated the word over and over.

Each “guilty” was a key turning in a lock, sealing his fate.

He was dismantling his own empire, piece by piece, before the eyes of the court.

He admitted to the secret bank accounts in the Cayman Islands.

He named the shell corporations used to launder the casino money.

He gave the names of the union officials who had been on his payroll.

He did not offer excuses.

He did not ask for leniency.

He simply gave the government everything they needed to tear his life’s work down to the bedrock.

Beside me, Miller was taking notes in a small black book.

“He’s making sure there’s nothing left for Vance to inherit,” Miller whispered to me.

“But what about Vance?” I whispered back. “Where is he?”

“We’re moving on him tonight,” Miller said. “Adrian’s testimony just signed the warrants.”