Chapter 8 - The Price of a Sovereign
The retaliation came three weeks later, not with a knife or a gun, but with the cold, administrative malice that Sebastian Crane considered his greatest strength.
At four in the afternoon, while the triplets were in the library drawing maps of the North Pole, two men in gray suits arrived at the iron gates with a warrant from the Cook County Circuit Court.
The allegation was child endangerment.
Sebastian’s lawyers had filed an emergency petition stating that Evelyn Ward, a woman with "documented emotional instability and no visible means of support," was residing in a household associated with organized crime, thereby exposing the minor dependents of the Bellandi family to immediate physical peril.
The state welfare officers looked terrified to be standing on Dante’s driveway, but they had three police cruisers behind them and a signature from a judge who owed his seat to the Crane family's political action committee.
"They want to take them," I said, standing in the library window, my hands shaking as I watched the red lights flash against the limestone pillars. "Owen... Sebastian is doing this to hurt me. He knows I love them."
Dante was sitting at his mahogany desk, a glass of water in front of him. He hadn't touched his weapons. He hadn't called his guards. He was looking at a small piece of blue paper Enzo had just brought from the fax machine.
"The judge who signed this warrant is named Miller," Dante said, his voice as level as a plumb line. "He has an account at a private bank in the Cayman Islands that contains two hundred and forty thousand dollars from the Crane Development Sector. The transfer was made on Tuesday morning."
"Can we stop them?" I asked, looking back at the triplets. Nico had stopped drawing. He was looking at his silver spoon again, his little shoulders hunched.
"In this city, you do not stop the law, Evelyn," Dante said, standing up. He walked over to me, his tall frame blocking the view of the flashing lights. "You change the men who write it."
He walked out to the grand hall, where the two state officers were waiting with Enzo. The police officers stayed near the door, their hands on their holsters, their eyes darting toward the portraits on the wall.
"Don Bellandi," the senior officer said, his voice cracking slightly. "We have an order to remove the children for seventy-two hours pending an evaluation of the domestic environment."
Dante didn't look at the order. He looked past the officer to the senior police captain standing by the door—the cousin who had handled the garage report.
"Thomas," Dante said. "Is your mother still living in the apartment on 12th Street?"
The captain swallowed, his face turning gray beneath his blue cap. "Yes, Don Bellandi."
"The boiler in that building belongs to the city housing authority," Dante said. "If the children leave this house tonight, the housing authority will find an environmental hazard in that boiler before the sun comes up. The whole block will be cleared for the winter. Your mother will have to sleep in the gymnasium at the high school."
The captain didn't hesitate. He reached out and took the warrant from the state officer's hand, tearing it down the center with a single, violent motion.
"The address on this warrant is incorrect," the captain told the state workers. "This is the Bellandi residence. The order says 'Crane Trust Property.' We are returning to the station to clarify the paperwork."
"But Captain—"
"Out," the captain barked, shoving the state workers toward the door. "Before I find a defect in your vehicle's registration."
As the doors closed behind them, Dante turned back to the library. His face was entirely pale, his gray eyes dark with a rage that had finally broken through his ice.
"Enzo," he said.
May you like
"Yes, Don."
"Call the union leader at the West Loop site," Dante said, his voice dropping into a whisper that made the crystals on the chandelier vibrate. "Tell them the concrete is dry. They can pour the foundation for the clinic tomorrow morning. If Sebastian Crane is inside the building, tell them to use the large mixer."
