Chapter 9 - Cleaning House
The following two weeks were a whirlwind of legal, corporate, and personal restructuring. With Marco's detailed digital records seized by federal prosecutors, Julian Thorne had zero leverage; within four days of his arrest, Thorne signed a comprehensive plea agreement to avoid federal capital charges, ratting out every corrupt politician, judge, and dock official on his payroll. The Thorne syndicate was utterly eradicated from the city of Chicago.
I spent those two weeks purging Romano Enterprises. Every executive Marco had hired, every vendor he had contracted, and every system he had touched was thoroughly audited, vetted, and replaced. I didn't care about the financial cost; I wanted the foundation of my life to be clean, honest, and fortified against the rot of greed.
During that entire period, Emma and Sophie stayed in the private master guest suite of the mansion, surrounded by round-the-clock protection. Emma had tried multiple times to return to her cleaning duties, picking up dusters and folding laundry, but I ordered her to put them down.
"You aren't my housekeeper anymore, Emma," I had told her with a warm smile. "You're the woman who saved this household. Take a breath."
On a crisp, sunny Thursday morning in late November, the first gentle snowfall of the season began dusting the manicured lawns of the estate. I sat in my renovated study—the desk stripped of all listening devices, the room bathed in natural sunlight pouring through the clean bay windows.
A soft knock came at the door. Emma stood there, dressed in a simple, elegant wool dress I had ordered for her from downtown. Sophie peeked out from behind her mother’s skirts, her brown eyes sparkling with mischief, still holding that battered plastic magnifying glass.
"Come in, both of you," I said, gesturing toward the plush chairs in front of my desk.
Emma sat down cautiously, holding Sophie on her lap. "The federal marshals called this morning, Mr. Romano. They said our witness protection relocation package has been prepared. They want to move Sophie and me to an apartment in Oregon under new identities."
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Her voice was laced with sadness. She had spent her entire life running from poverty, from danger, and from fear. Moving across the country into an unfamiliar town under an assumed name felt like just another prison sentence.
"They can cancel that paperwork, Emma," I said, sliding a thick manila folder across the mahogany surface.
