Chapter 8 - NO MORE SECRETS
For two days Paige stayed with Elena, furious that an address could become dangerous simply because she had asked a question. Roman offered a hotel under another name. Paige refused until Elena pointed out that the clinic had received a threatening call asking when the “nosy waitress” would next appear. They moved together to a small apartment owned by Elena's aunt, who was traveling. Paige set three conditions before she told Roman where they were: no surveillance inside, no decisions about her work without her permission, and no pretending that the danger was romantic.
Roman agreed to all three. Then he surprised her by arriving alone with groceries, not flowers. He stood awkwardly in the kitchen while Elena interrogated him about the clinic shipment. Paige watched a man accustomed to commanding rooms endure a lecture about refrigerated medicines and procurement receipts. He promised nothing he could not document.
That evening Roman admitted Mercer had been more than an attorney. After the bombing, Mercer had persuaded the frightened youngest son to trust him with the business. He had told Roman that the explosion was ordered by a rival family and that revenge would keep everyone safe. Roman had spent five years believing him. Now the reactivated account suggested someone inside the family organization had profited from the chaos.
Paige asked the question he had avoided. “What if Mercer lied about who killed them?”
Roman's silence answered before he did. “Then I built my life around the wrong enemy.”
She did not offer easy comfort. She knew too little about his past to forgive what he had done with it. Instead, she asked what he intended to do now. He showed her copies of the shipping records and said he had hired an independent forensic accountant. He would share evidence with investigators if it held up. Paige made him repeat the promise without qualifiers.
In the middle of the night, Elena's phone rang. The clinic's supply order had been restored, paid through an auditable emergency fund. Paige felt relief until she heard the rest: a fire had broken out at the warehouse where the diverted shipment had last been seen. No workers were injured, but the inventory records were destroyed.
Roman arrived before dawn. “Mercer knows we're looking,” he said.
Paige stood in the doorway with her wrist brace visible. “Then stop protecting the reputation of a business that keeps hurting people.”
He looked at her for a long moment. “I'm beginning to think that's the only way to save anything worth saving.”
The borrowed apartment had a narrow balcony overlooking a bakery. Each morning Paige woke to the smell of bread and the clatter of delivery trucks. The ordinary sounds made the threats seem unreal until she noticed herself checking the street before opening the curtains. Elena did the same. Neither woman said much about it. Instead they divided chores, kept receipts, and agreed to tell each other whenever fear started making decisions for them.
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Roman phoned once that week to ask whether Paige wanted updates. She told him yes, but only facts he could verify. He sent a brief written summary from the accountant rather than a dramatic promise of revenge. It was the first time she felt he might be learning to speak to her as an equal.
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