Chapter 7 - The First Breakfast
For the first time in fourteen months, the kitchen at the Southampton house smelled like pancakes and maple syrup instead of expensive scotch and cold ash.
I stood at the stove flipping buttermilk pancakes while Grace set the table with bright yellow plates the girls had picked out at the market.
"Daddy, can I have blueberries?" Sophie asked, standing on her tiptoes by the counter.
"As many as you want, bug," I said, dropping a handful onto her plate.
She smiled—a real, wide smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes just like Isabelle’s used to.
The doorbell rang.
I froze, my hand tightening on the spatula. In my world, visitors without appointments usually meant trouble.
Grace touched my arm. "Relax. It's just Agent Miller with the final asset seizure forms."
I walked to the front door and pulled it open.
Miller stood on the porch in a gray trench coat, holding a thick manila envelope. But he wasn't alone. Standing beside him was a woman in a sharp navy blue suit—the director of the federal task force.
"Mr. Romano," Miller said, nodding respectfully. "Sorry to bother you at home, but we needed your signature on the final forfeiture papers for the Brooklyn berths."
"Come in," I said, stepping aside.
We moved into the foyer. Grace walked out from the kitchen holding a mug of coffee, her professional demeanor instantly returning as she addressed the federal agents.
"Did the judge sign off on the asset transfer to the victim compensation fund?" Grace asked.
"Eighty million dollars in seized assets, all redirected," Miller replied, handing the folder to Grace instead of me. "It’s officially clean, Agent Bennett."
I looked at Grace.
"Agent Bennett?" I raised an eyebrow.
Grace didn't look embarrassed. She just handed the folder to me to sign. "Senior Special Agent Grace Bennett. Financial Crimes Division. Though I have to admit, your kitchen management skills are significantly better than the FBI academy's."
"You lied on your resume," I said, signing my name with a flourish.
"I omitted certain details," she corrected smoothly. "Standard undercover protocol."
May you like
Miller chuckled, tipping his hat. "Have a good morning, folks. The cleanup in the city is going to take a few days, but your name is completely cleared, Mr. Romano. The federal indictment proves Vincent was operating entirely behind your back."
After the agents left, the house fell back into a peaceful, warm silence broken only by the sound of the girls playing in the sunroom.
