Chapter 7 - I BURNED THE OLD EMPIRE WITHOUT A MATCH
Isabelle’s files revealed more than Vincent’s crimes.
They revealed mine.
Not murder.
Not what Vincent did.
But years of allowing businesses around me to exist in gray zones because asking fewer questions made profit easier.
I had spent my life telling myself:
I’m not my father.
My father ordered violence.
I reduced it.
My father ran drugs.
I refused.
My father extorted businesses directly.
I moved toward legitimate revenue.
Better.
Not clean.
Isabelle knew.
Her final letter contained a line I read dozens of times:
You cannot build a safe home using money from systems that make other homes unsafe.
So I began dismantling them.
Illegal gambling interests disappeared.
Cash operations were closed.
Warehouse subcontractors tied to extortion were terminated.
Certain freight partnerships were turned over during cooperation with investigators.
Outside auditors went through everything.
I paid penalties.
Lost contracts.
Sold clubs.
One former associate called me weak.
Another called me a rat.
I stopped caring.
The fortune shrank.
Still enormous.
More than enough.
For the first time, though, I could explain to Olivia what my company actually did without lying by omission.
Freight.
Warehouses.
Hotels.
Property.
Boring.
Beautiful.
Marcus once said:
“Your father would hate what you’ve done.”
I replied:
“My father is dead.”
“And?”
“That means he doesn’t get a vote.”
The Romano name slowly changed.
Not overnight.
Some stains stay.
That was fine.
I stopped caring about cleaning the name.
May you like
I cared about not passing the same dirt to my daughters.
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