The snow melted from the gutters, and the streets of Chicago began to dry.

We moved into a brick brownstone in Lincoln Park.

It had a small yard with a high iron fence and a security gate.

Lily was crawling now, exploring every corner of the living room.

One morning, Dante sat at the dining table with a thick stack of legal folders.

He wore a simple gray sweater, his dark hair slightly messy.

“I want you to look at this,” he said, pushing a document toward me.

I set down Lily’s bottle and walked over to the table.

The document was a charter for a non-profit organization.

“The Russo Family Foundation,” I read aloud.

“I am stepping down from the family operations,” Dante said. “Silas is taking over the legitimate shipping business.”

“And the other operations?” I asked.

“They have been dissolved,” Dante said. “The assets are clean now. We are using them to build something else.”

He looked at me with a quiet intensity.

“I want you to run the foundation, Sophia,” he said.

“Me?” I asked. “I was a psychology student. I worked at a club.”