Chapter 7 - THE HOUSE NERO CHOSE
Six months passed.
Carlo’s case moved through federal court.
Victor’s cooperation exposed additional theft.
Several Romano employees were charged.
Others cleared.
Owen pleaded guilty to offenses connected to Nero and the cover-up.
Sienna attended Michael’s case hearings.
I attended only when invited.
That mattered.
She received a formal acknowledgment that Michael’s death was not an accident.
No document could give back three years.
Still, records matter.
Truth matters.
Michael Brooks was no longer a tired dispatcher who lost control of his vehicle.
He became what he had actually been:
A man who noticed people were stealing from vulnerable patients and refused to stop documenting it.
Sienna cried when the amended investigative finding was issued.
Then went to work the next morning.
Life continued.
I saw Elsie because of Nero.
At first, once a week.
Sienna drove her to the estate.
Stayed.
Coffee in the kitchen.
Nero and Elsie in the courtyard.
No employment relationship.
No obligation.
Then winter became spring.
Elsie turned four.
Her birthday invitation arrived addressed to:
MISTER ALESSIO + NERO
Nero received higher billing.
Fair.
Party at a public park.
I arrived with one gift.
Sienna warned me beforehand.
“No pony.”
“I had not considered a pony.”
“You own horses.”
“Different.”
“No giant diamond teddy bear.”
“Do those exist?”
“Alessio.”
“Fine.”
I bought art supplies.
Nero wore a ridiculous blue bow.
Elsie screamed with happiness.
Children at the party were initially afraid of him.
He lay down.
Waited.
One by one, they approached.
Sienna watched.
“He's different.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“He's the same.”
She looked at me.
“We were reading him wrong.”
The statement felt larger than the dog.
Nero had not become dangerous.
He had been hurt.
Then punished for reacting to pain.
How many people had I done that to?
I disliked the question.
Probably why it mattered.
Sienna’s new job went well.
She was promoted within a year.
Managed residential properties.
Had health insurance.
Predictable hours.
She bought a used car.
Refused when I offered to have my mechanic inspect it.
Then called two weeks later because it made a noise.
I said nothing.
“You are smiling.”
“No.”
“I can hear it.”
“My mechanic is available.”
“Fine.”
Small things.
Our friendship grew.
Slowly.
Then one evening Sienna came to the estate alone.
Elsie had a sleepover with her aunt.
Nero was recovering from a routine veterinary check.
We sat in the kitchen.
Sienna said:
“You look lonely.”
Rude.
“I own several mirrors.”
“That was not an answer.”
“You're very comfortable insulting me now.”
“I used to clean your bathrooms.”
“Power destroys respect.”
She laughed.
Then became serious.
“Do you ever think about Michael?”
“Yes.”
That surprised her.
“I never met him.”
“No.”
“But his notebook changed my life.”
She looked down.
“He would hate that.”
“Why?”
“He hated dramatic men.”
I almost smiled.
“Then yes.”
“He'd hate me.”
“Probably.”
Good.
We sat quietly.
Then she asked:
“Do you blame your father?”
“For what?”
“Building the routes.”
“Yes.”
“Do you love him?”
“Yes.”
“That seems hard.”
“It is.”
She nodded.
“I loved Michael.”
“Sometimes I'm angry at him too.”
“For investigating?”
“For not telling me.”
She looked guilty saying it.
“You can be angry at dead people.”
I had learned that slowly.
“They don't become perfect because they died.”
Sienna looked at me.
“Who taught you that?”
“Recently?”
“Yes.”
“You.”
She went quiet.
Dangerous quiet.
I felt it too.
Something had changed between us.
Not employer and employee.
Not mafia boss and maid.
Those roles were gone.
Two adults in a kitchen.
Still complicated.
I did not act on it.
Neither did she.
Good.
Three months later, Sienna asked me to dinner.
Not the other way around.
I stared.
“Are you asking me on a date?”
“No.”
Pause.
“Yes.”
I smiled.
“You're terrible at this.”
“Do you want to go?”
“Yes.”
Our first date was at a normal restaurant.
Her choice.
I made one mistake.
Security sat two tables away.
Sienna noticed.
“No.”
“What?”
“Send them farther.”
“There's a threat assessment.”
“The main defendants are in federal custody.”
“That doesn't eliminate—”
She stared.
I sighed.
“One outside.”
“Good.”
I texted.
My men relocated.
Growth.
Dinner was strange.
Good strange.
We talked about films.
Her dislike of olives.
My inability to cook eggs.
Michael.
My father.
Elsie.
Not Nero, eventually.
When I walked her to her car, I stopped.
“Can I kiss you?”
She looked at me for a long time.
“No.”
My chest tightened.
Then:
“Not tonight.”
Different.
“Okay.”
No argument.
No “why.”
I stepped back.
Sienna smiled.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For making no easy.”
That stayed.
Three dates later, she said yes.
The kiss was brief.
Then she laughed.
“What?”
“You look surprised.”
“I am.”
“Most feared man in Chicago.”
“Apparently poor branding.”
May you like
She kissed me again.
From the car, my security driver stared straight ahead with the heroic concentration of a man fighting for his life.
