Chapter 5 - THE SECRET ADRIAN NEVER TOLD
Adrian moved us that night.
Not to Romano House.
Not to a hotel.
To an apartment above an old Italian restaurant in Little Italy that had belonged to his grandmother.
“There are only two entrances,” he explained. “Both monitored.”
Sophia pressed her nose against the window.
“I can see pizza.”
“You can smell pizza,” I corrected.
“I can see it too.”
Adrian looked at me.
“She makes persuasive arguments.”
“Don’t encourage her.”
For the first time in twenty-four hours, something almost felt normal.
Then Matteo placed a folder on the table.
Normal ended.
Inside were photographs of Isabella Romano.
Adrian’s younger sister.
Twenty-two when she died.
Same dark eyes.
Same strong jaw.
But where Adrian always looked guarded, Isabella seemed incapable of hiding joy.
“She volunteered at a neighborhood clinic,” Adrian said.
His voice sounded different when he spoke about her.
“She wanted to become a pediatric nurse.”
“What happened?”
He looked at the picture rather than me.
“My father was still alive. Colton was running collections. I had just come back from business school.”
I blinked.
“Business school?”
He glanced at me.
“You sound surprised.”
“Your reputation leaves out the MBA.”
“It also leaves out several tax audits.”
Despite myself, I smiled.
He continued.
“I discovered Colton was using family warehouses to move narcotics without my father’s approval.”
“Your father cared?”
“Not enough.”
“But you did.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
His eyes shifted toward Sophia.
“Because one of the shipments went through a building next to Isabella’s clinic.”
I understood.
“You confronted him.”
“I shut down the route. Colton blamed me for costing him millions.”
“And Isabella?”
Adrian’s hand closed around the edge of the table.
“She was driving home one night. Her car exploded.”
I stopped breathing.
“Oh my God.”
“Police called it organized crime retaliation. Nobody proved who ordered it.”
“But you believed Colton.”
“I knew.”
“How?”
“He sent me a message the next morning.”
Matteo slid a photocopy toward me.
One sentence.
YOU CAN’T CLOSE A DOOR AND EXPECT THE DARKNESS TO STAY OUTSIDE.
I looked at Adrian.
“And your father?”
“Wanted war.”
“What did you want?”
“Colton gone.”
“What happened?”
“He disappeared before we found him.”
“And your father died later.”
“Heart attack.”
“So you took control.”
“Yes.”
“And shut down the worst parts.”
“As many as I could without creating another war.”
I studied him.
For six months, I had cleaned around this man.
I had seen conference calls, expensive suits, guarded conversations.
I had heard rumors.
I had never considered that he might spend every day trying to dismantle pieces of the empire he inherited without getting everyone around him killed.
“That doesn’t make what your family did right.”
“No.”
He answered immediately.
“I know.”
There was no defensiveness.
No excuse.
Just fact.
That mattered.
Maybe more than I wanted it to.
Matteo opened another file.
“We traced Vincent’s escape.”
A camera image showed one of Adrian’s guards opening a service exit.
“Who is he?” I asked.
“Louis Terenzi,” Adrian said.
“Trusted?”
“He was.”
“Everybody seems trusted until they aren’t.”
His eyes met mine.
“Yes.”
Matteo continued.
“Louis disappeared after releasing Vincent. His bank account received fifty thousand dollars three days ago.”
“From Colton?”
“Shell corporation.”
“What about Anthony?” I asked.
Matteo hesitated.
“His badge was used again last night.”
“Where?”
“The Queens property.”
My stomach tightened.
“You mean my apartment?”
“Yes.”
Adrian stood.
“I want Anthony brought in.”
Matteo nodded.
“He’s missing.”
Of course he was.
Adrian turned away.
I could see the muscle working in his jaw.
“Do you think he broke into my apartment?”
“I think he knows who did.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
He faced me.
“Yes.”
Sophia entered from the bedroom carrying a blanket.
“Mommy, Mr. Adrian doesn’t have a stuffed animal.”
I closed my eyes.
“Baby.”
“What?”
“Mr. Adrian is having an important conversation.”
She looked at him.
“Do you have one?”
Adrian glanced at me.
“No.”
Sophia looked horrified.
“Not even one?”
“No.”
She hurried back into the bedroom.
Matteo rubbed his forehead.
“I’m going downstairs.”
“Coward,” Adrian muttered.
“Absolutely.”
He left us alone.
Sophia returned with her plastic horse.
She handed it to Adrian.
“You can borrow Biscuit.”
He stared at the toy in his hand.
“Thank you.”
“You have to give him back.”
“I assumed.”
“He kicks bad dreams.”
Adrian’s expression changed.
I saw it.
A small crack.
Not in the mafia boss.
In the brother who had once gotten a phone call telling him his little sister was dead.
Sophia climbed onto the couch beside him.
“Did you have a sister?”
He looked at me.
I had not told her.
She had seen the pictures.
“Yes.”
“Where is she?”
“Somewhere I can’t visit.”
Sophia thought about that.
“Heaven?”
Adrian’s throat moved.
“Yes.”
“My daddy is there.”
His gaze shifted to me.
Sophia’s father, Gabriel, had died before she was born.
Construction accident.
Three floors down because a subcontractor had ignored safety rules.
I had been six months pregnant.
Sophia knew him only from pictures.
She touched Adrian’s sleeve.
“Maybe he knows your sister.”
The silence that followed hurt.
Then Adrian said softly, “Maybe he does.”
Sophia seemed satisfied.
She curled up on the couch.
Ten minutes later she was asleep against his arm.
Neither of us moved her.
Adrian looked down at her.
“How did he die?”
I told him.
Not all of it.
Enough.
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
“He knew about her?”
“Yes.”
“Was he happy?”
“Terrified.”
That made Adrian smile.
“Sounds reasonable.”
“He painted her room twice because he hated the first yellow.”
“What color did he choose?”
“Yellow.”
Adrian laughed quietly.
It was the first time I heard it.
Not a polite breath through his nose.
A real laugh.
Warm.
Unexpected.
Dangerous for entirely different reasons.
His phone vibrated.
The laughter vanished.
He read the message.
“What?”
I asked.
He stood carefully so he would not wake Sophia.
“Anthony.”
“You found him?”
“No.”
He handed me the phone.
It was a photograph.
Anthony tied to a chair.
Blood on his shirt.
His face bruised.
Beside him stood Vincent.
Under the picture was a message.
MIDNIGHT TOMORROW.
BRING THE LEDGER YOUR FATHER STOLE.
OR YOUR COUSIN DIES FIRST.
I looked at Adrian.
“What ledger?”
His face hardened.
“I don’t know.”
“Vincent thinks you do.”
“Colton thinks I do.”
“What could be in it?”
“Enough to matter after twelve years.”
Sophia shifted in her sleep.
Adrian looked at her.
Then at me.
“There’s one person who might know.”
“Who?”
“My mother.”
I had heard almost nothing about Elena Romano.
Only that she lived in Connecticut and rarely came to the city.
Adrian picked up his coat.
“I need to go.”
“You need to sleep.”
“No.”
“You’ve been awake as long as I have.”
“I’ll sleep when this is over.”
“That’s stupid.”
He stared at me.
I crossed my arms.
“You can fire me again if you want.”
His eyes dropped briefly to my mouth.
Then returned to my face.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
The words sounded less like an order this time.
More like something that frightened him.
Before I could decide what that meant, Adrian turned away.
But Sophia, half asleep, caught his hand.
“Don’t go alone.”
He froze.
Her eyes remained closed.
“Bad people like when you’re alone.”
Adrian looked at me.
May you like
For once, neither of us argued with the toddler.
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