Chapter 4 - POPPY’S SECRET
Lily woke the next morning asking for her rabbit.
That created a problem larger than the missing flash drive.
“Where’s Poppy?”
Clara looked at me.
I looked at Clara.
Children were extraordinarily talented at detecting adults deciding how much truth to reveal.
Lily frowned.
“Did Poppy get arrested?”
I almost smiled.
“No.”
“Did she do crimes?”
“No.”
“Then where is she?”
I crouched beside the hospital bed.
“She got lost.”
Lily considered this.
“Like me?”
Those two words hurt.
“Yes.”
“Then we find her.”
Clara turned away.
Lily reached toward my hand.
“You found me.”
“I did.”
“So you find Poppy too.”
No pressure.
Just absolute faith.
I had faced deadlines involving millions that felt easier.
“We’ll find her.”
The security review showed that Poppy had been placed inside an evidence locker at my estate after police photographed the note and rabbit.
Only six people knew.
One guard disappeared before sunrise.
Anthony Ricci.
Twenty-seven.
Three years working estate security.
No disciplinary record.
His apartment was empty.
Bank accounts showed a deposit of seventy-five thousand dollars two days earlier.
Marco’s money.
We tracked Ricci to the airport.
He never boarded a flight.
His car was found in long-term parking.
Blood on the driver’s seat.
No body.
Someone was cleaning the trail.
Marco remained hospitalized under armed custody.
Victor Carbone refused to speak.
Daniel was recovering.
That left me with one uncomfortable possibility.
Marco had not acted alone.
Not merely with Victor.
Someone inside my legitimate companies had helped move money for years.
The flash drive could identify them.
Clara joined me in the study that afternoon.
Lily’s yellow chair remained beside my desk.
I could not look at it without seeing the empty room from the morning she vanished.
“You promised.”
I looked up.
Clara folded her arms.
“That Lily would never leave because of you again.”
“I remember.”
“You also promised to find Poppy.”
“I remember that too.”
“She believes you.”
“I am aware.”
“Good.”
I leaned back.
“You came here to threaten me with a stuffed rabbit?”
“No.”
She placed a folder on my desk.
“I came to help.”
Inside were Michael’s old records.
Clara had stored them after his death.
Invoices.
Bank statements.
Shipping manifests.
“Why do you have these?”
“Michael worked at Romano Freight.”
“I know.”
“He brought paperwork home constantly.”
I began reading.
Clara pointed toward a series of vendor codes.
“Those appeared repeatedly before his death.”
The companies looked ordinary.
HVAC contractors.
Maintenance suppliers.
Fuel distributors.
All fake.
One name repeated.
Crown Harbor Holdings.
I knew it.
A real estate company controlled by Senator Adrian Cole.
Cole had spent years presenting himself as the man who wanted organized crime removed from the city.
Publicly, he hated me.
Privately, apparently, someone in my organization had been sending him money.
Matteo entered.
“Boss.”
I handed him the file.
“Find everything.”
He read the name.
His expression changed.
“Cole?”
“Yes.”
“Why would Marco pay him?”
“Protection.”
Clara shook her head.
“Or partnership.”
She was right.
By evening, we knew.
Marco diverted Romano money through Crown Harbor.
Cole used his political influence to steer public contracts toward Victor Carbone’s companies.
Victor paid kickbacks.
Marco received a percentage.
Michael Bennett discovered invoices proving it.
That gave all three motive to silence him.
The flash drive could prove murder, fraud, bribery, and conspiracy.
Then Lily wandered into the study.
Everyone stopped talking.
She carried a new stuffed bear Teresa had bought her.
She hated it.
“Poppy has one ear bent.”
“Yes,” Clara said.
“This bear has two straight ears.”
“We can bend one.”
“No.”
Lily looked offended.
“That would be lying.”
I stared at the bear.
Clara almost laughed.
Lily climbed onto her yellow chair.
Then noticed one of Michael’s old photographs.
“Daddy.”
Clara went still.
Lily barely remembered him.
“What do you remember?” Clara asked.
Lily pointed.
“He gave Poppy a boo-boo.”
My attention sharpened.
“What boo-boo?”
“On her belly.”
Clara and I looked at each other.
Michael had opened Poppy’s stitching.
Lily continued.
“Mommy fixed it.”
“When?” Clara asked.
“Before Daddy went to heaven.”
Clara’s eyes filled.
I asked, “Did your daddy put something inside Poppy?”
Lily nodded.
“A tiny blue thing.”
The flash drive.
“Did he take it back?”
“No.”
“Did anyone else know?”
She thought.
Then nodded again.
“Uncle Marco.”
My blood ran cold.
“How?”
“Daddy got mad at him.”
“When?”
“At our old house.”
Clara looked confused.
Marco had visited Michael privately before his death.
That detail had never appeared in any record.
“What did they say?” I asked.
Lily frowned.
Children’s memories were fragments.
“He said bad words.”
“Who?”
“Uncle Marco.”
“What else?”
She hugged the bear.
“He said Mister Alessandro would never believe Daddy.”
I felt sick.
Michael had tried to reach me.
Marco convinced him I would not listen.
Maybe Michael had believed him because my reputation made it easy.
For years, fear had protected me.
It had also isolated me from the truth.
That evening, Senator Cole appeared on television.
He announced a press conference.
Standing behind a podium, surrounded by flags, he claimed organized crime had infiltrated local government.
Then he named me.
Alessandro Romano.
He accused my companies of laundering money, bribing officials, and manipulating city contracts.
Every crime Marco and Cole committed together was being placed on me.
Reporters surrounded my businesses.
Federal investigators obtained warrants.
Banks froze accounts.
My legitimate empire began collapsing in hours.
Clara watched the broadcast.
“He’s using your reputation.”
“Yes.”
“Because nobody will believe you.”
“Exactly.”
“What do we do?”
I looked toward Lily sleeping on the sofa beneath a blanket.
Nineteen years ago, I would have started a war.
Killed witnesses.
Burned evidence.
Threatened anyone necessary.
That was the man Cole expected.
The man Marco counted on.
I picked up my phone.
“Call the United States Attorney.”
Matteo stared.
“What?”
“I’m turning over everything.”
“Alessandro, that exposes us too.”
“I know.”
“Our entire history?”
“Yes.”
“You could go to prison.”
I looked at Lily.
“Then I go.”
Clara stared.
“Why?”
“Because the only way to beat a lie built on my reputation is to stop hiding behind the reputation.”
For the first time in my life, I prepared to tell the truth about everything.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
Poppy.
The rabbit.
Sitting on a table.
Beside it was a lighter.
The message underneath read:
MIDNIGHT.
COME TO THE OLD ROMANO CHURCH.
BRING CLARA.
OR THE RABBIT BURNS WITH EVERYTHING INSIDE IT.
Clara read the message.
Then looked at me.
“We’re going.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
Her eyes narrowed.
I smiled slightly.
“We’re sending something better.”
May you like
“What?”
“The FBI.”
