Anna smiled for the first time in weeks. «Mom would have loved this, wouldn’t she? Watching you take down those snobs.»

«Your mother would have done it herself, and probably with more style.»

My phone rang. It was Maria. «Tony, you need to see the news.»

I turned on the television. Channel 10 News was running a story about the Whitfield foreclosure. The reporter was standing in front of their Newport estate with a foreclosure notice sign clearly visible on the front lawn.

«The Whitfield family, longtime members of Newport’s social elite, are facing foreclosure on their historic family estate after what sources describe as discriminatory behavior violating their mortgage agreement with Romano Financial Group,» the reporter said.

Anna stared at the screen. «It’s really happening.»

The story continued. «Preston Whitfield IV, an associate at the law firm Pemberton and Associates, has reportedly been dismissed from his position following what the firm calls ‘conduct incompatible with professional standards.’ The Whitfield family has declined to comment, but sources close to the situation describe discriminatory statements made during a social gathering at the Newport Country Club.»

«They fired him?» Anna asked.

My phone buzzed with a text from Maria. «Pemberton and Associates called this morning. They don’t want any association with the situation. Also, five other Newport families have requested meetings about refinancing their mortgages through Romano Financial.»

Word spreads fast in small communities. I showed Anna the text.

«Other families want to switch to your bank?»

«Apparently, some people are impressed by an institution that stands by its values.»

The news story was still running. «Romano Financial Group, founded by Italian immigrant Anthony Romano, has become one of New England’s largest privately held banking institutions. The company’s motto, ‘Building Communities, Not Just Wealth,’ appears to be more than just marketing.»

Anna looked at me with something approaching awe. «Dad, how big is Romano Financial, really?»

«Eighty branches, 2,000 employees, about $2 billion in assets.»

«Two billion dollars?»

«We started with $10,000 and a belief that every family deserves respect, regardless of where they came from or what they drive.»

Her phone buzzed again. This time she answered. «Hello, Preston.» I could hear his voice through the phone, desperate and pleading.

«Preston, stop,» Anna said firmly. «What happened last night wasn’t some misunderstanding that we can fix with an apology. You showed me who you really are when you thought there wouldn’t be consequences.»

There was more desperate pleading from his end.

«No, Preston. I don’t want to meet for coffee. I don’t want to work this out, and I definitely don’t want to help you convince my father to reverse the foreclosure.» A pause. «Because you spent eight months treating my family like we should be grateful for your attention. You made jokes about our background. You demanded money from people you thought were poor. You told my father that our immigrant family needed to learn our place in America. You don’t get to apologize your way out of that.»

She hung up and immediately blocked his number.

«How does it feel?» I asked.

«Scary, but also… free. Like I don’t have to pretend to be someone else anymore.»

My phone rang again. This time it was Judge Patricia Gonzalez, an old family friend. «Tony, I just heard about the Whitfield situation. Is Anna okay?»

«She’s fine, Patricia. Better than fine.»

«Good. Because I wanted you to know, four people called me this morning asking about your character. Apparently, some folks in Newport are trying to build a case that you acted improperly.»

«And?»

«And I told them exactly what I’ve known for 25 years: Anthony Romano is a man who keeps his word, honors his commitments, and doesn’t tolerate disrespect toward his family or community. The Whitfields got exactly what they deserved.»

After I hung up, Anna looked at me with a question in her eyes. «What happens now, Dad?»

«Now? Now you get to be Anna Romano. No apologies. No explanations. Just you.»

The news was still playing. The reporter had moved to downtown Providence, standing in front of Romano Financial Headquarters. «The immigrant success story that built an empire while staying true to its values. For Channel 10 News, this is Sarah Mitchell reporting.»

Anna squeezed my hand. «I’m proud to be your daughter.»

Three weeks later, Anna and I were having dinner at Russo’s on Federal Hill, the same restaurant Preston had dismissed as inadequate for their wedding. The owner, Sal Russo, had insisted on preparing something special when he heard about Anna’s engagement ending.

«Your daughter deserves better,» he’d said simply. «And any man who doesn’t see that isn’t worth the marinara sauce on his shoes.»

Anna was laughing more than she had in months. The stress lines around her eyes were gone. She looked like herself again.

«Dad, I have something to tell you.»

«What’s that?»

«I got a call today from the Italian American Business Association. They want me to speak at their scholarship banquet next month about succeeding in business without compromising your values.»

«That’s wonderful.»

«They also mentioned something about a two-million-dollar scholarship fund that Romano Financial just established for first-generation college students.»

I smiled. «Education is important in our family.»

«You did that because of what happened with Preston, didn’t you?»

«I did it because every kid who works as hard as you did deserves the same opportunities, regardless of what neighborhood they come from or what their parents drive.»

Anna reached across the table and squeezed my hand. «I’m proud to be your daughter. Not because of the money, but because of who you are.»

«And I’m proud of the woman you’ve become. You stood up for yourself when it mattered. That took courage.»

«I learned from the best.»

My phone buzzed with a news alert. The Whitfield estate had sold at auction that morning. A tech entrepreneur from Boston had bought it for $3.8 million. After legal fees and auction costs, the Whitfields would walk away with almost nothing.

I showed Anna the notification. «Do you feel bad for them?» she asked.

«I feel bad that they chose arrogance over character, but I don’t regret the consequences. Some lessons can only be learned the hard way.»

Anna nodded. «Preston called one more time yesterday from his parents’ lawyer’s office.»

«What did he want?»

«To apologize. To say he understood now that his behavior was wrong. To ask if there was any way…»

«And what did you tell him?»

«I told him that understanding you were wrong isn’t the same as being right, and that some mistakes can’t be fixed with apologies.»

Anna raised her wine glass. «To new boundaries.»

«To new boundaries,» I agreed.

As we drove home through Federal Hill, past the Romano Financial Branch office, past the neighborhood where I’d learned that hard work and respect matter more than inherited wealth, I thought about the lesson Preston Whitfield would spend the rest of his life learning. In America, you don’t inherit respect. You earn it.