After excusing himself from the party, Nuki forced a smile, convinced that Charlie's earlier question stemmed from genuine ignorance rather than malice. However, few knew that Charlie's curiosity was innocent and not meant to offend. He simply wanted to understand the legendary widow who had once pulled Nuki from the brink of despair.
"The beautiful widow isn't coming back. What a shame," Charlie mused to himself, intrigued by the stories surrounding her. Yet, he reminded himself that films often distorted reality. For instance, Nuki was portrayed as frail and elderly in the movie, but in reality, he stood tall and robust—a man who, even in his older years, retained a charm admired by many women.
As for the film's ending, where justice prevailed and Nuki was killed—reality painted a different picture. After serving a 10-year sentence in 1941, he was released in 1945 and lived comfortably in New Jersey with his family until his passing at 85.
Returning to his hotel room, Charlie was greeted by his housekeeper, who had arranged for a young blonde woman to keep him company. Although puzzled by the gesture, Charlie couldn't help but be amused. Nuki had pegged him as a "cleanliness addict" based on his lack of interest in dancers or street girls.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Charlie glanced at the nervous girl standing by the door. A mix of emotions churned in him—curiosity, shyness, and slight embarrassment. Yet, a thought struck him: "Am I settling for something too ordinary? Shouldn't I aspire for something more refined?"
Just then, Paul knocked on the door. "Boss, am I interrupting?" he quipped, seeing the blonde at the door.
"Get to the point," Charlie replied, slightly irritated.
Paul explained that Nuki was departing that night and had reassigned some of Charlie's guards to act as his political bodyguards, a move that would elevate their profile.
Before leaving, Paul smirked, "Enjoy your evening, boss."
With a resigned sigh, Charlie decided to embrace the experience. After all, life was unpredictable, and he wasn't going to deny himself simple pleasures. By dawn, the room was quiet again. The blonde slept soundly, utterly exhausted.
The next morning, Charlie had breakfast with Nuki. The latter handed him a check, joking about how close the expense had brought him to bankruptcy. Charlie accepted it with a smile, feeling it was well-earned.
As their conversation shifted, Charlie suggested forming a national committee for organized crime—a body that would replace violence with negotiation and voting. Initially dismissive, Nuki's demeanor shifted as the potential power and profit dawned on him.
"You want to be involved?" Nuki asked suspiciously.
"No, no," Charlie replied with a laugh. "I'm just sharing an idea. I'm in legitimate business, after all."
Despite his dismissal, Charlie knew he had planted a seed. Whether Nuki or others like Luciano acted on it, the implications would ripple across the underworld.
By the time Charlie departed, only a few of his original guards remained. Nuki had insisted on keeping two Chinese guards, claiming they were more reliable than others—a sentiment Charlie secretly agreed with.
On the way out of Washington, Charlie's car was stopped at a checkpoint. A familiar face greeted him—it was the same soldier he had met at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.
"Major Dwight wants to see you," the soldier said.
Although Charlie felt unease creeping in, he forced a smile. "Of course. Lead the way."