Chapter 9 - The Harbor Treaty
The spring of 2026 arrived with a sudden, brilliant thaw that sent the ice from the river crashing into the Atlantic bay. The shipping lines were open again, the black hulls of the Moretti freighters cutting through the white water with their holds full of legal grain, Italian marble, and the clean, high-value electronics that defined our new corporate portfolio.
The Romano name had been completely erased from the city’s ledgers. Their properties had been seized by the state, their enforcers absorbed into the Moretti ranks under Lev’s strict discipline, and the northern docks had been reopened under a new municipal lease held by the Carter Development Corporation—a trust fund established for Harper’s education.
I stood on the bridge of the Donna Elena, my flagship freighter, watching the cranes lift the container crates onto the dock. The sea wind was clean, sharp, carrying the scent of salt and the open horizon.
Lev walked up behind me, a digital tablet clutched in his hand. "The Chicago grand jury has closed the investigation, boss. The Romano files were declared inadmissible due to the source's criminal record. The prosecutor’s office signed the non-prosecution agreement twenty minutes ago."
"Good," I said, not turning around. "What about the cottage?"
"The security fence has been removed, sir. The child wanted the garden open so she could chase the rabbits into the woods."
I let out a low laugh, the sound clean against the roar of the ship's engines. "Let her chase them, Lev. Tell the guards to keep the perimeter wide."
I left the bridge, walking down the iron stairs to the main deck where my car was waiting. The black SUV looked the same as it had the night I arrived from Sicily, but the men around it were different. They didn't look like wolves waiting for blood; they looked like men who had a home to protect.
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As the car pulled out of the harbor gates, I looked back at the city rising up the hills toward the estate. The old stone house looked less like a fortress now, its high windows reflecting the gold light of the spring afternoon, its gates open to the road that ran all the way down to the water.
The family had survived the purge. Not by the strength of our guns, but by the trust of a child who had been brave enough to speak in the dark.
