Sofia was three months old when the FBI came knocking.
Not literally they were more subtle than that. But a subpoena arrived at the mansion, requesting my presence for "consultation regarding organized crime activities in the tri-state area."
"They're fishing," Marcus said, examining the document. "They don't have anything concrete. Just trying to see if you'll slip up."
"Should I go?" I asked Dante.
"You don't have a choice. Refusing a federal subpoena looks guilty." He rubbed his face, stressed. "But we need to be smart about this. Get our lawyers involved. Prepare thoroughly. They're not going after you specifically they're going after the organization."
"Which I run."
"Which we all run. That's the defense. You're a businesswoman. Restaurants, real estate, legitimate ventures. Anything else is speculation."
The meeting with our lawyers took three hours. They drilled me on what to say, what not to say, how to deflect questions without seeming evasive.
