7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
Lorenzo
I am halfway through reviewing the weekly operations reports when someone knocks on my open office door.
Brennan Kessler stands in the doorway with a folder tucked beneath one arm. As director of vendor relations, he usually comes to me with contract issues, delayed deliveries, or complaints that have already been reduced to numbers and proposed solutions.
Today, he looks bewildered.
“Do you have a minute?” he asks.
“Come in.”
He steps inside and shuts the door behind him.
That gets him my full attention.
“I received two calls this morning that I don’t understand.”
“What kind of calls?”
“Vendors asking about your son.”
I lift my brows. “My son?”
“Alessio.”
“Which vendors?”
He gives me the names.
Both have worked with Conti Enterprises nearly since we opened our Chicago branch.
“What did they ask?”
Brennan opens the folder and glances down, though I doubt he needs the reminder.
“One wanted to confirm Alessio would no longer be involved in the approval of their work.”
I stare at him.
Brennan spreads one hand. “That was my reaction too.”
“Alessio has never been involved in approvals.”
“I told them that.”
“What did they say?”
“They asked who would be taking over his accounts.”
“He doesn’t have accounts.”
“I told them that too.”
The confusion in Brennan’s expression appears genuine. He is accustomed to vendors exaggerating problems or pretending not to understand contract language when money is involved. This has left him without even that familiar explanation.
“Did they give you a name?” I ask. “Someone here who supposedly told them Alessio handled approvals?”
“No. I asked where they got the information, and the person I spoke to became vague. Said there had been some concern on their side and they wanted reassurance.”
“Reassurance about what?”
“That’s what I couldn’t get them to explain.” He lowers the folder. “They already know invoices and approvals come through my department. Alessio has never spoken to them as far as I’m aware.”
“He hasn’t.”
Brennan nods slowly, as though that only makes the call stranger.
“The second vendor asked whether recent events would affect the account.”
“Recent events?”
Brennan lowers his voice as if someone else might be listening.
“The arrest, sir.”
I work to keep my expression neutral.
“Did they specifically mention the arrest?
“No. They kept calling it a personnel matter.”
I lean back in my chair.
“Alessio isn’t personnel.”
“I know.”
“He doesn’t work in vendor relations.”
“I know that too.”
“And neither account is connected to anything he handles.”
“Exactly.” Brennan pauses. “That’s why I came to you. I thought I might have missed a change somewhere, but there isn’t one in the system. There’s no approval authority under his name, no vendor portfolio, no contract assignment. Nothing.”
The office beyond my windows is moving as it always does. Phones ring. Employees cross between departments. Someone laughs near the elevators before the sound disappears behind a closing door.
From here, nothing appears different.
That is how trouble usually begins. Quietly.
“What did you tell them?”
“That the accounts were operating normally and their points of contact had not changed.”
“Did that satisfy them?”
“Eventually. I think.” He frowns.
“Is there anything else?” I ask.
Brennan hesitates. “There’s a meeting scheduled for Thursday with one of our logistics partners. They asked to postpone this morning.”
“Did they give a reason?”
“Internal scheduling conflict.”
“Do you have reason to believe otherwise?”
“Usually no.” His brows draw together. “With the other calls happening the same morning, I’m less sure.”
I hold out my hand for the folder.
He passes it across the desk.
Inside are brief notes from each call, along with the name of the company that postponed the meeting. There is very little on the page.
But it's enough.
“Has anyone else called?” I ask.
“Not that’s reached me.”
“Any cancellations?”
“No.”
“Changes to payment terms?”
“No.”
“Questions from inside the company?”
“A few people asked why vendors were mentioning Alessio.” He studies me. “I didn’t know what to tell them because I still don’t understand why they are.”
Neither do I.
Alessio has never held the kind of position that would make vendors question continuity. His responsibilities are tied to family operations and security, most of which never appear on an organizational chart.
Someone has attached his name to work he never performed.
“Document every call,” I say. “Names, times, exactly what was asked, and who answered. No one improvises a response.”
“I already started.”
“Good. No one speculates with vendors. No one tries to correct rumors beyond stating the facts.”
“Which facts?”
“That Alessio has no approval authority over their work and there has been no change to their accounts.”
Brennan nods.
“Do you want me to contact the company that postponed?”
“No.”
His expression shifts again. “Even to ask whether this is connected?”
“If it is, asking directly may only make them more cautious. Let them believe we accepted the scheduling explanation.”
“All right.”
“Send me updates if anyone else asks about Alessio, especially if they connect him to responsibilities he has never had.”
“I will.”
He turns toward the door, then stops.
“Lorenzo.”
I look up.
“Is there something I’m supposed to know?”
His question is careful rather than intrusive. Brennan manages relationships for the company. Unexplained concern from vendors affects his ability to do his job.
“Alessio’s arrest has nothing to do with Conti Enterprises,” I say. “That is what you need to know.”
He gives me a measured nod.
“Understood.”
After he leaves, I look down at the folder again.
The vendors are confused about Alessio’s role.
Brennan is confused about their questions.
The only person who appears to understand why they are asking has yet to introduce himself.
I remain at my desk for another moment.
On my screen, the report waits exactly where I left it, full of problems with simple explanations and solutions.
This is different.
A murder accusation against my son should have nothing to do with invoices, vendors, or scheduled meetings. It should remain where it belongs—with the police, Julian, Donna, and the person who arranged the evidence against him.
Instead, it has entered the legal part of the business before Alessio has even been charged.
That may be fear moving through the business community.
It may be the first part of the reason someone chose to frame him.
I stand and take the folder.
My office is on the same floor as Mario’s, separated by the central administrative area and several conference rooms. The walk is short, but it gives me enough time to observe more than I would from behind my desk.
People greet me as I pass.
No one avoids my eyes.
A conversation near the printers stops for a second, then resumes when I continue walking.
That's not completely out of the ordinary.
The administrative desk outside Mario’s office is occupied by the temporary assistant covering for Julia while she is home with Cecilia.
The desk still looks like Julia’s. Everything is arranged with the same precision she established when she began running Mario’s office. The files are organized. His calendar is open on one monitor. A second screen holds a list of calls waiting for his attention.
But Julia is not sitting there.
The temporary assistant, Lisa Stinger, looks up as I approach. She is competent, yes, but jumpy. She straightens whenever one of us comes near the desk.
“Mr. Conti.”
“Is he alone?”
“Yes, but he has a call in fifteen minutes.”
“I won’t need fifteen.”
She reaches for the phone to announce me.
I shake my head and continue to the door.
Mario’s voice carries through it before I knock.
“Come in.”
I open the door.
He is seated behind his desk, reading something on a tablet. His jacket is draped over the back of his chair, his sleeves rolled at the wrists. A cup of coffee sits near his right hand.
He looks up when I enter.
“What is it?”
I close the door and cross the room.
“Alessio’s arrest is beginning to touch the company.”
Mario sets the tablet down.
“How?”
I place the folder in front of him and take the chair across from his desk.
“Two vendors called with questions. One asked whether Alessio would still be involved in approving their work, though he never was. Another wanted confirmation that the account would remain unchanged.”
Mario opens the folder.
“And?”
“A company scheduled to meet with us this week postponed.”
“Did they mention Alessio?”
“No.”
“Then we do not know the two are connected.”
“We know.”
His eyes lift to mine.
I hold his gaze.
Mario looks back at the page.
“How far has it spread?”
“Not far. No operational problems. No one has backed out of a contract. Employees are still doing their jobs.”
“But people are nervous.”
“Yes.”
He closes the folder.
“That was fast.”
“Too fast.”
“You think someone is pushing it.”
“I think one arrest that did not result in charges should not have reached three separate business contacts this quickly.”
“The name did the work for them.”
“Maybe.”
Mario leans back.
He has always been good at waiting before deciding what something means. He can sit with a problem until everyone else becomes impatient enough to reveal more than they intended.
Typically, I'm good at that as well.
But I am less interested in patience when the problem concerns my son.
“What are you thinking?” he asks.
“That whoever set up Alessio may have wanted more than an arrest.”
“Your private investigator, Donna, already raised that possibility.”
“She asked why him. This could be part of the answer.”
“Damaging the company?”
“Or testing what happens when pressure is applied.”
Mario’s face remains still.
“To whom?”
“All of us.”
The silence between us is brief.
We both understand the difference between someone trying to imprison Alessio and someone using Alessio to force the family into motion.
“What did you tell Brennan?” Mario asks.
“To document every call and keep the response consistent. Alessio has not been charged, and his arrest does not affect the company.”
“Good.” He sits back and watches me. “You hired this private investigator to keep Alessio out of prison. She is good, yes?”
“Better than I expected. She's done more in a few days than the police have managed since the arrest.”
Mario studies me. “That is high praise coming from you.”
I don't mince words. “Yes.”
“Then I will leave this decision up to you. Would you be willing to have her split her focus between Alessio and trying to find who may be sabotaging us?”
My answer is immediate. “No.”
He accepts that with a nod. Mario is a father as well. He understands where my priority lies.
“Then we will wait until she has cleared his name and hire her for this,” he says. “If she's as good as you say she is, then she might be the one for the job.”
“She might.”
Mario’s gaze sharpens. “You sound reluctant.”
“I do not know whether we have that much time.”
His fingers tap once against the folder.
“You are angry.”
“My son was arrested for a murder he did not commit, and now people who have taken our money for years are suddenly concerned about their reputations.”
He leans forward and looks me in the eye. “We do what we can in the meantime. To keep this contained and try to find the source ourselves.”
“And if it spreads?”
Mario’s expression hardens. “Then whoever started this will learn what happens when they try to use my nephew to weaken this family.”