Chapter 7 - THE RESTAURANT WAS PART OF THE PLAN
Paul Granger disappeared before investigators could question him.
For six hours.
Then Donovan found him at O’Hare.
One-way ticket to Mexico City.
Cash.
Bad plan.
Paul talked quickly after arrest.
He had not known about stolen babies.
At first.
Julian approached him eight months earlier.
Pamela was already working at Bella Rosa.
Julian paid Paul to report if Pamela contacted lawyers, journalists or hospitals.
Why Bella Rosa?
Because St. Anselm’s billing collection agency had her employment information.
Julian had been tracking her financial records.
Pamela felt physically ill.
“He knew I was alive.”
Roman’s expression hardened.
“Yes.”
“He knew I was drowning.”
“Yes.”
“He watched.”
“Yes.”
Paul had sent photographs.
Shift times.
Comments about Pamela’s behavior.
One note:
Subject appears depressed but stable. No legal activity.
Subject.
Pamela laughed bitterly.
“I was somebody’s surveillance report while I was serving pasta.”
Paul later learned the issue involved children.
Julian told him Pamela was an unstable birth mother who might harass a legitimate adoptive family.
Then Roman made the most disturbing connection.
Bella Rosa.
His own habits.
Roman dined there regularly before the triplets.
Not weekly.
Enough.
Paul had repeatedly encouraged staff to put Roman in the VIP booth.
Julian’s surveillance of Pamela and knowledge of Roman’s restaurant patterns had placed both in the same building for months.
Pamela stared.
“Was he trying to make us meet?”
Donovan shook his head.
“Probably the opposite.”
Paul had usually kept Pamela away from Roman’s tables.
Kelsey got VIP guests.
That night everyone else refused because the babies were screaming.
Paul chose Pamela because he needed someone.
One small deviation.
Everything collapsed.
Pamela laughed.
“The blonde waitress saved my children because she was scared of Roman.”
Roman looked offended.
“People exaggerate.”
Donovan and Pamela stared at him.
“What?”
Neither answered.
Then Julian made his move.
From jail through counsel, he argued Roman knew the adoption was questionable.
Documents surfaced bearing Roman’s signature.
One authorized “enhanced confidentiality procedures.”
Another approved a $400,000 discretionary payment.
Pamela looked at him.
“Did you sign these?”
Roman studied them.
“Yes.”
Her chest tightened.
“Explain.”
“I thought confidentiality protected the birth mother.”
“What about four hundred thousand dollars?”
“Julian said neonatal expenses and legal indemnity.”
“You didn't ask?”
“No.”
The answer was honest.
Still painful.
Pamela stood.
“I need air.”
Roman did not stop her.
Later he found her on the terrace.
“You think I knew.”
“I think you chose not to know.”
That hit harder.
Roman said nothing.
“You trusted a man to purchase the details away.”
His jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
Pamela turned.
“I don’t think you knowingly bought my children.”
Relief flickered.
She continued:
“But your money created a place where nobody expected you to ask what something cost someone else.”
Roman looked toward the lawn.
He knew.
His entire empire worked like that.
Problems arrived.
Money left.
Details disappeared.
Julian thrived in the shadows between.
“What do you want me to do?”
Pamela almost laughed.
“Stop asking me to design your conscience.”
He looked at her.
Then nodded.
Fair.
Over the next months, Roman ordered independent audits across every company Julian had touched.
Not because Pamela told him exactly how.
Because he finally understood the question.
What had his convenience cost people he never saw?
The answer was ugly.
Bribes.
Coercive contracts.
Off-book security arrangements.
Nothing like the baby-trafficking network.
But enough.
Roman began closing parts of the empire.
Men complained.
Some left.
One threatened him.
Roman solved that one legally.
Donovan nearly had a spiritual experience.
“You called attorneys.”
“Stop talking.”
“Instead of—”
“Donovan.”
“Growth.”
Roman threw a pen at him.
May you like
Not much growth.
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