Chapter 8 - The Interrogation of SalThe following morning at dawn, the winter sun broke over the Manhattan skyline in a brilliant, blinding sheet of sapphire and gold.
Inside the private library annex in the north wing, the scent of fresh Earl Grey, sliced lemons, and warm blueberry muffins filled the room.
Sal stood beside the cataloging desk in an immaculate new tailored charcoal suit, his posture straight, holding a clipboard containing the morning logistics manifests.
When Lorenzo walked into the library carrying Lily on his shoulders, Sal snapped to attention, bowing his head with deep, genuine respect.
“Morning, Don Lorenzo. Morning, Little Boss.”
Lily giggled from her perch on Lorenzo’s shoulders, waving her small hand enthusiastically. “Good morning, Uncle Sal! Did you bring the chocolate muffins?”
“Two dozen fresh from the bakery in Little Italy, Little Boss,” Sal grinned, his scarred face creasing in a wide, affectionate smile that completely erased his reputation as a feared enforcer. “With extra chocolate chips on top, just like you ordered.”
Lorenzo set Lily gently down onto the parquet floor, kissing the crown of her head.
My daughter ran straight to her small wooden play table, climbing onto her velvet chair, picking up her miniature porcelain teacup with immense, serious pride.
Lorenzo walked over to the desk, leaning against the mahogany wood, looking at Sal with sharp, calculating eyes.
“Report, Sal.”
“The Castiglione transfer is one hundred percent complete, boss,” Sal reported crisply. “All forty-two container berths at Pier 42 are operating under our flag. The union dockworkers signed the new wage contracts this morning—full pension protections, thirty-five percent wage increase, and complete health coverage funded by the Lily Miller Foundation.”
“And the Queens loan sharks?” Lorenzo asked softly.
Sal’s smile turned sharp and cold. “The crew running extortion out of the Northern Boulevard garage was dismantled at midnight. Their loan ledgers were incinerated in the courtyard. Hannah’s ex-husband was picked up at a bus terminal in Buffalo on outstanding interstate fraud warrants. He’s looking at twenty years in state prison. He will never set foot in New York again.”
Lorenzo nodded once with absolute, final satisfaction.
“Good work, Sal.”
He reached into his pocket and tossed a set of brass keys onto the desk blotter.
“What's this, boss?”
“The deed to the waterfront townhouse in Bay Ridge,” Lorenzo said smoothly. “For the man who had the good sense to look at the ceiling for eighteen days instead of drawing his weapon on a four-year-old child.”
Sal blinked, a sudden rush of emotional gratitude turning his rough throat tight. He picked up the keys with trembling fingers, bowing his head deeply.
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“Thank you, Don Lorenzo. I will guard Donna Hannah and the Little Boss with my life.”
“I know you will, Sal,” Lorenzo smiled, clapping the enforcer’s shoulder with heavy, brotherly warmth. “Now go get yourself a chocolate muffin before Lily eats the whole tray.”
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