25. Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter Twenty Five
Lorenzo
By the time I turn through the gates at Mario’s house, I have gone over the same facts so many times that I could recite Donna’s notes from memory.
I park near the front of the house and sit behind the wheel for a moment after the engine goes quiet.
Donna found the first half of the trail.
I know the rest.
I should feel relieved.
For weeks, we have known Rachel could not have done everything alone. She did not alter hotel footage by herself. She did not move Genevieve’s body into that room without assistance. Someone gave her money. Someone helped her construct the lie that almost sent Alessio to prison for murder.
Now we know who.
I grip the steering wheel once before releasing it.
Of all the names I expected to find at the end of this, Lakeview Logistics had never been among them.
That seems foolish now.
It should have been my first thought.
I get out of the car and take the folder from the passenger seat.
The front door opens before I reach it.
One of Mario’s staff lets me inside, and I hand over my coat without slowing.
“They’re in the study, Mr. Conti.”
“Thank you.”
I walk down the hall and open the door.
The brothers are gathered together.
Don Mario stands near the windows with a drink in his hand. Ricardo is sitting in one of the chairs near the fireplace, one ankle resting over his opposite knee. Diego is leaning on Mario’s desk.
Their sons are spread throughout the rest of the room.
Matteo and Tomasso occupy the sofa. Dante is in the chair beside his father, Ricardo. Edoardo leans against the bookshelves with his arms folded.
Alessio is closest to the fire.
He turns when I enter.
My gaze catches on him for half a second too long.
He notices.
“What?” he asks.
“Nothing.”
His eyebrows draw together.
I close the door behind me.
Mario looks at the folder in my hand.
“You found something.”
“Donna found something,” I say.
That gets everyone’s attention.
I cross the room and set the folder on Mario’s desk.
“She traced money paid to Rachel before Genevieve’s murder.”
Alessio straightens.
“How much?”
“A little over forty-seven thousand dollars.”
His face hardens immediately.
“Someone paid her forty-seven grand to set me up?”
“We believe so.”
“Believe?”
“We know she received the money. We know the companies paying her were shells. We know those companies trace back to the same holding company. What we cannot prove yet is exactly what each payment purchased.”
Ricardo sets his glass down.
“What holding company?”
“Harbor Peak Management.”
Something shifts in Mario’s expression.
Diego looks at me. He knows.
I can tell from his face before he says anything.
“Lakeview.”
“Yes.”
The younger men look between us.
Edoardo is the first to speak.
“What does Lakeview have to do with Harbor Peak?”
“Harbor Peak owned it,” I say.
Alessio frowns.
“What is Lakeview?”
I look at him.
“Lakeview Logistics.”
“That does not answer my question.”
“It was one of Marcello Greco’s primary businesses.”
The mood in the room shifts at the name.
The name is familiar to everyone, although the younger generation was not directly involved in everything that happened when we first came to Chicago.
Mario moves away from the windows.
“You traced Rachel Monroe to Marcello Greco?”
“We did.”
“How solid?”
“Enough.”
I open the folder and pull out several pages.
“Donna got as far as Lakeview. She traced Rachel’s payments through three shell companies and then back through Harbor Peak, which led her to Lakeview Logistics. Most of the other companies owned by Harbor Peak are closed.”
Dante leans forward.
“Is Greco still involved with Lakeview?”
“There are layers between him and the company now, but yes.”
Tomasso gives a low whistle.
“So Marcello Greco paid Rachel.”
“That is where the money originated.”
Alessio walks away from the fire.
“Why?”
No one answers immediately.
I look at him.
There is no good way to say it.”
“Because of me,” I finally say.
His eyes narrow.
“What does that mean?”
Mario pulls out the chair behind his desk and sits. “Tell them from the beginning.”
I glance at him.
He gives me a slight nod.
I turn back toward the room.
“When we came to Chicago, Marcello Greco was one of the people we had to deal with.”
“That is a polite way of putting it,” Diego says.
I ignore him.
Marcello had been established here for years before we arrived.
He had legitimate businesses, political connections, money, access, and enough influence to make him very dangerous and expensive to cross.
Lakeview Logistics was one of the foundations beneath it all.
On paper, it was freight management, warehousing, transportation contracts, distribution.
In reality, it gave Marcello much more than revenue.
Warehouses give a man places to put things. Transportation contracts give him control over what moves and when. Business relationships create favors.
Money buys access. Access creates power.
Marcello had plenty of all three.
“When we decided to establish Conti Enterprises here,” I say, “Lakeview became a problem.”
Matteo leans forward with his forearms on his knees.
“Because he would not work with us?”
“Because Marcello expected us to work under him.”
“That's not why we came here,” Mario said.
I walk toward the fireplace but stop several feet from Alessio. This is for him. He has to know why he was targeted.
“It was my responsibility to handle most of the operational side of that expansion. Lakeview had contracts we wanted. Warehouses we needed access to. Relationships that made it harder for us to move into certain areas.”
“So you went after it,” Edoardo concludes.
“Yes.”
There is no reason to soften it.
No one here is ignorant of the reasons we came to Chicago and our intentions when we did so.
I went after Lakeview methodically. It's what I'm best at.
Clients learned there were better options available.
Contracts Marcello expected to renew went elsewhere.
Suppliers changed terms.
People who once took his calls began taking ours instead.
Nothing happened in one decisive blow.
Lakeview simply became weaker month after month until Marcello could no longer hold it together.
“Conti Enterprises opened its Chicago branch,” I continue. “A few months later, Lakeview closed.”
Alessio’s gaze shifts toward Mario.
“And Greco blamed us.”
“Greco blamed Lorenzo,” Mario corrects.
Alessio furrows his brows and brings his gaze back to me. “You?”
“Me,” I confirm. “He hated us, but he held me personally responsible. In his mind, I was the man who destroyed his business.”
Diego pushes away from the desk. “Bullshit. His business wasn't that strong to begin with if you could destroy it that easily. It had just never been tested before.”
I glance at him. “Regardless.”
“Regardless, nothing,” he spits out. “It was business, Lorenzo.”
“I heard you.”
“I am making sure you remember it.”
I do remember.
That is part of the problem. At the time, Marcello’s anger barely registered.
I had seen it before.
Men always think their losses are personal when they are the ones losing. I had no reason to believe Marcello Greco would be any different.
“It was business,” I confirm. “Until it wasn't.”
Dante looks between us both. “What happened after Lakeview closed?”
The boys know most of this. They know what was in the news. They know what we had to do to take power in this town. They know the name Marcello Greco. But they don't know what went on behind the scenes.
We had decided when we came to Chicago that we would let them take a step back from the business side of things. Just for a little while. It was never going to be forever.
They were always going to come back in and take their places. And when that happened, they would be told everything.
We didn't know that decision was going to be forced on us. That was a miscalculation, and one we will never make again.
“Lakeview was not his only source of money, but it was one of the things holding his position together. When the company went under, he lost revenue. Then influence. Then access.”
“People stopped needing him,” Dante says.
“Exactly.” Ricardo nods at his son. “Everything around him started collapsing.”
There is always a point when power begins feeding itself.
The same thing happens when there is a loss of power.
One person stops returning a call. Someone else notices.
A favor does not get granted. The next person becomes less willing to offer one.
People who once treated a man a certain way begin calculating whether he still deserves the effort.
Marcello discovered how quickly respect disappears once people realize they no longer have to fear you.
“And then Angelo was arrested,” I say.
Alessio’s expression changes.
He knows that name.
Angelo Greco.
Marcello’s only son.
“We heard about that. Assault, extortion, illegal weapons possession,” Matteo says.
“There were other allegations,” Ricardo adds. “Those were the charges that stuck.”
Tomasso looks at me. “Wait, did you get him put in prison? Is that why Marcello blames you?”
“No.” My answer comes immediately.
Angelo was not some innocent kid swallowed by a system he did not understand.
He was a grown man. Violent. Entitled.
Protected for too long by his father’s power and money.
He hurt people because he believed Marcello could make the consequences disappear.
For years, he was right.
Alessio’s eyes stay on me.
“But Marcello thinks you put him there?”
“No. He knows Angelo put himself there.”
He looks confused. “Then what does he blame you for?”
I take a breath. “For making sure he could no longer get him out.”
Silence follows.
Then…
“What?” Tomasso exclaims.
We all turn to him.
“He blames you because his idiot son got himself put in prison? How the fuck is that your fault?”
“Before Lakeview fell, Marcello had enough money and influence to protect Angelo. He could make charges go away, call in favors, make sure certain problems never reached a courtroom. By the time Angelo was arrested, most of that was gone.”
Tomasso sits back, understanding beginning to replace his disbelief.