Chapter 8 - THE PRICE OF LEAVING THE OLD LIFE
Taking down the Sloanes created a vacuum.
Power hates empty space.
Patrick’s network fractured.
Three groups wanted his routes.
Two wanted mine.
Men I had protected for years started asking whether Roman Romano had gone soft.
One sent a message.
A dead rat inside a shipping crate.
Unoriginal.
Another burned two trucks.
Expensive.
A third sent photographs of Jack’s school.
That ended the debate.
I called a meeting.
Every senior captain.
Every partner.
Every man who had profited from my name.
The room smelled of cigars and suspicion.
Nico stood behind me.
I placed documents on the table.
“Romano Continental is separating from every off-book operation.”
Nobody spoke.
Then Carlo DeSantis laughed.
“You’re joking.”
“No.”
“We built those routes.”
“I know.”
“You own half the city because of those routes.”
“Not anymore.”
Someone asked:
“What happens to collections?”
“Ended.”
Silence.
“Protection?”
“Ended.”
“Private cargo?”
“Ended.”
Carlo stared.
“You found religion?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I found children.”
He laughed.
Bad choice.
I didn’t move.
“I’m not asking.”
That changed the room.
The legitimate company would survive.
Ports.
Warehousing.
Freight technology.
Cold storage.
Everything audited.
Everything taxed.
Painfully.
The criminal network would not.
Some men left.
Some threatened.
Some joined competitors.
Two tried stealing assets.
Nico handled that legally.
Mostly.
I made a cooperation agreement with federal prosecutors.
In exchange for information on Sloane operations and financial networks, the government reduced charges against several Romano companies.
Not me.
I still faced exposure.
Tax crimes.
Conspiracy.
Illegal payments.
Obstruction.
I accepted it.
My attorney—not Arthur—predicted eighteen to thirty months.
Naomi found me packing documents.
“You’re going to prison.”
“Possibly.”
“Do the children know?”
“Not yet.”
“You should tell them.”
“I know.”
I hated that she was always right.
Jack listened silently.
Rosie cried immediately.
“Are you bad?”
The question destroyed me.
“I’ve done bad things.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Five years old.
Brutal.
I looked at Dr. Walsh.
She nodded slightly.
“Sometimes I was bad.”
Rosie cried harder.
“Do bad people stop being bad?”
I swallowed.
“They can make different choices.”
Jack asked:
“Did you hurt people?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
I could not answer that honestly without giving him nightmares.
“More than I should have.”
He looked away.
“Mom knew?”
“Some.”
“Did she hate it?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you stop then?”
There are questions children ask that strip away every excuse.
“I thought power kept you safe.”
Jack stared at me.
“Did it?”
I looked at both of them.
“No.”
A month later, I entered a plea.
Twenty months.
Federal facility.
No dramatic escape.
No judge bribed.
No witness threatened.
The old world considered that humiliation.
I considered it a bill.
Before I surrendered, Naomi brought the children to the lakefront.
Cold March afternoon.
Rosie ran after gulls.
Jack walked beside me.
“You’ll come back?”
“Yes.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
“No dangerous stuff?”
“No.”
“You always say that.”
He was right.
I knelt.
“Then don’t trust the promise.”
He frowned.
“Trust what?”
“What I do after.”
That seemed to satisfy him more.
Naomi stood twenty feet away.
I looked at her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“You finally said something intelligent.”
“Very funny.”
When the children ran toward Nico’s car, Naomi remained.
“You have somewhere to live?”
“Yes.”
“Money?”
She laughed.
“Roman.”
“Right.”
I looked at the lake.
“Thank you.”
“For?”
“Stopping me that night.”
“You would have ruined everything.”
“I know.”
“You probably would have killed Camille.”
“I know.”
“You’re welcome.”
I smiled.
Then she became serious.
“Do not turn prison into another way to disappear from your children.”
I looked at her.
“They need letters.”
“I know.”
“Calls.”
“I know.”
“Consistency.”
“I know.”
“Not money.”
“I know.”
She smiled faintly.
“You’re annoying when trained.”
I surrendered the next morning.
For the first time since I was seventeen, nobody around me cared about the Romano name.
Good.
May you like
I needed to learn who I was without it.
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