Chapter 15 - The Ledger Elena Left Behind
The ledger changed Chicago.
That sounds dramatic.
It was also true.
Three officials resigned before they could be charged.
Two inspectors were arrested.
Several old investigations reopened.
Duca companies were audited.
News vans appeared outside Roman’s properties.
Honey & Rye gained an unfortunate new nickname online:
The Mafia Girlfriend Bakery.
I hated it.
Sales increased forty percent.
I hated that too.
Customers began ordering “Roman Flour Bombs,” which were simply powdered-sugar doughnuts my employees renamed without permission.
Roman bought one every morning.
“You’re encouraging them.”
“They’re good.”
“I can fire everyone.”
“You won’t.”
“I could.”
Lily joined us behind the counter.
“She won’t.”
Roman gave her a cinnamon roll.
She took it.
Three months earlier that tiny action would have felt impossible.
Now Lily ate normally, attended therapy again and had returned to school part-time.
She still had difficult days.
Healing wasn’t a miracle montage.
Some mornings she barely spoke.
Some nights she called Roman because she dreamed about Elena.
But she laughed too.
She argued.
She complained about homework.
She lived.
That was the victory Elena wanted.
Roman’s future was less certain.
Daniel negotiated his cooperation.
Roman gave records.
Testimony.
Access.
Names.
He admitted financial crimes connected to companies inherited from his father.
He accepted responsibility for threats and coercion committed years earlier.
Some charges were reduced because of his cooperation.
Others weren’t.
One evening he came to the bakery after closing.
“I may serve time.”
I stopped wiping the counter.
“How much?”
“Daniel doesn’t know.”
My stomach tightened.
“Years?”
“Possibly months. Possibly more.”
I looked at him.
He didn’t ask me to wait.
That was how much he had changed.
“What happens to Lily?”
“Sophia.”
“And me?”
His expression softened.
“You continue your life.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“I won’t ask you to build your future around my consequences.”
I came around the counter.
“You really learned nothing about me.”
His mouth almost smiled.
“I learned you’re stubborn.”
“I decide my future.”
“Yes.”
“So stop deciding it for me.”
He nodded.
“Would you wait?”
“Yes.”
His eyes closed briefly.
“Clare.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t even know how long.”
“Then maybe don’t commit more crimes while we wait.”
He laughed.
I wrapped my arms around him.
He held me.
No audience.
No guards.
No arrangement.
Nothing fake remained.
The sentencing hearing came six weeks later.
Roman stood before a judge.
Vincent’s cooperation had collapsed after evidence confirmed his role in Elena’s death cover-up and criminal networks.
Roman’s extensive assistance mattered.
So did his history.
The judge spoke for nearly twenty minutes.
Roman would serve eleven months in federal custody.
Not freedom.
Not destruction.
Consequence.
Lily cried.
Roman did not.
Until she hugged him outside.
“I’ll visit.”
“You focus on school.”
“I can do both.”
He looked at me.
I smiled.
“She’s your niece.”
“That is becoming increasingly obvious.”
Roman entered custody three weeks later.
The day before he left, he came to Honey & Rye at four in the morning.
I was alone preparing dough.
“You’re early.”
“I wanted to understand.”
“What?”
“Why you choose this life.”
I handed him an apron.
“For the next two hours, you’re laminating croissant dough.”
“That sounds like punishment.”
“It is.”
He worked terribly.
He folded unevenly.
Used too much flour.
Complained about butter temperature.
At six, we sat near the window drinking coffee.
“This table,” he said.
“Elena’s.”
“Yes.”
He touched the wood.
“She saved us from here.”
I looked at him.
“She gave us clues.”
“No.”
Roman shook his head.
“She brought Lily here because she knew what kind of place you created.”
My throat tightened.
“I wish I’d known her better.”
“She knew you well enough.”
He reached across the table.
Took my hand.
“I spent my whole life believing safety came from power.”
“And now?”
He looked toward the kitchen.
The rising bread.
The warm lights.
My employees arriving one by one.
“Now I think it might look more like this.”
At seven he left.
I watched the black sedan disappear.
For the first time since meeting Roman, I didn’t wonder whether he would return the next morning.
May you like
I knew exactly where he was going.
And I knew he was finally walking toward the man he wanted to become.
