Chapter 3 - The House Nobody Knew About
The house was two hours north of Manhattan.
Chloe knew because she watched every mile.
Roman drove.
No convoy.
No visible guards.
Only the black Audi and relentless rain.
“You seriously don't use GPS?” she asked after an hour of silence.
“I know where I'm going.”
“That feels metaphorical.”
Roman glanced at her.
“Was that criticism?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Chloe stared.
“Good?”
“Everyone else chooses safer answers.”
“That seems like a problem you've created for yourself.”
A faint smile appeared.
It vanished quickly.
Chloe noticed anyway.
The safe house sat behind a private gate surrounded by forest.
Not a mansion.
A renovated stone farmhouse.
Warm lights.
Old porch.
Wood smoke rising from a chimney.
It was the least Mafia-looking building Chloe could imagine.
Roman parked.
She stared.
“What?”
“This is yours?”
“Yes.”
“You voluntarily own plaid blankets?”
“They came with the furniture.”
“Convenient.”
Inside, Roman turned off the alarm.
“No staff?”
“No.”
“Cameras?”
“Outside only.”
Chloe looked at him.
“You're telling me?”
“You said you wanted to know how you're being watched.”
That mattered.
More than she wanted it to.
Roman gave her the upstairs bedroom.
He took the couch.
She argued.
He won only because she was too exhausted to continue.
The following morning, Chloe found him chopping wood.
In a white thermal shirt.
Tattoos covered both forearms.
A large black design rose from his wrist to his elbow.
He looked less like a billionaire and more like a man who might build the cabin himself.
“You own central heating,” she said.
Roman swung the ax.
“Power goes out here.”
“So you prepare?”
“For everything.”
“Except women breaking into your car.”
He stopped.
“That was new.”
Chloe smiled despite herself.
Then she remembered why they were there.
The smile disappeared.
Roman noticed.
“Marco is investigating the breach.”
“Do you trust him?”
“With my life.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
Roman studied her.
“You really are an accountant.”
“I ask annoying questions?”
“You recognize when numbers don't answer the actual question.”
He rested the ax against a stump.
“Marco was my father's driver.”
Chloe waited.
“He carried me out of a burning car when I was seventeen.”
“That still doesn't answer it.”
Roman's expression softened.
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“I trust him.”
Chloe believed him.
Around noon, Mara called through an encrypted line.
Three security credentials had accessed the apartment level during the period Chloe was photographed.
One belonged to Marco.
One to Roman.
The third belonged to Gabriel Kessler.
Vincent Kessler’s younger brother.
Tommy’s father.
Roman went quiet.
Chloe felt nauseated.
“So the Kesslers are inside everything.”
“Maybe.”
“You still aren't sure?”
“I don't make permanent decisions from incomplete facts.”
Chloe folded her arms.
“Is that Mafia Boss language for not shooting people until you check the spreadsheet?”
Roman looked offended.
“I have lawyers.”
“That wasn't a denial.”
“It was adjacent to one.”
She laughed.
The sound surprised both of them.
Roman stared a second too long.
Chloe looked away first.
Later, she opened her duffel bag.
Everything she'd packed before leaving Tommy was gone.
Of course.
She had run without it.
Roman found her standing beside the window.
“What do you need?”
“Nothing.”
“That answer seems contagious.”
“My mother’s necklace was in the bag.”
Roman waited.
“She died when I was nineteen.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Everybody says that.”
“What should they say?”
Chloe looked at him.
“I don't know.”
“Then I won't pretend I do.”
Something painful shifted inside her chest.
Roman's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression hardened.
“Put him through.”
Vincent Kessler’s voice came through the speaker.
“Roman.”
“Vincent.”
“I hear there's been confusion involving my nephew.”
“Interesting word.”
“Thomas and Chloe had a domestic disagreement.”
Chloe's face tightened.
Roman saw it.
Vincent continued.
“The girl is unstable.”
Roman's jaw hardened.
“She found twenty-three million dollars missing from my companies.”
Silence.
Then:
“You're trusting her?”
“I'm verifying her.”
“She has always been dramatic.”
Chloe stepped closer.
Roman handed her the phone.
She stared.
He nodded once.
Chloe raised it.
“Hi, Vincent.”
A pause.
“Chloe.”
“You should probably know Tommy used the vendor account ending in 9412 to pay Westbridge Consulting twice.”
Absolute silence.
Chloe continued.
“And Westbridge doesn't exist.”
Vincent’s breathing changed.
Roman watched.
“You don't know what you're talking about,” Vincent said.
“Then why are you scared?”
He hung up.
Roman looked impressed.
“You enjoyed that.”
“A little.”
His phone immediately rang again.
Marco.
Roman answered.
“Boss, we found the company tied to the apartment photograph.”
Roman's expression sharpened.
“Who?”
“Private surveillance outfit. Brooklyn.”
“And who hired them?”
A pause.
“Payment came through Kessler Holdings.”
Chloe closed her eyes.
There it was.
Roman asked, “Vincent?”
“No.”
“Gabriel?”
“No.”
Another pause.
Marco sounded uncomfortable.
“The authorization code belongs to someone else.”
“Who?”
Marco answered.
“Your sister.”
Roman went completely still.
Chloe looked at him.
“You have a sister?”
“Yes.”
“Does she want you dead?”
His voice became quiet.
“I don't know.”
Roman disconnected.
For several seconds he simply stood there.
Then headlights appeared beyond the trees.
One vehicle.
Fast.
Roman moved Chloe away from the window.
“How did anybody find this place?”
“They shouldn't have.”
The car stopped outside.
A woman climbed out.
Tall.
Dark hair.
Long camel coat.
Roman’s expression became unreadable.
“Your sister?” Chloe whispered.
“Yes.”
The woman approached the porch.
No guards.
No weapon visible.
Roman opened the door but blocked the entrance.
“Isabella.”
“Roman.”
She looked past him.
Straight at Chloe.
“So that's her.”
Chloe disliked her immediately.
Roman's voice remained cold.
“How did you find us?”
Isabella held up a manila envelope.
“Because Dad owned this house before you did.”
Roman stiffened.
She extended the envelope.
“And because if the Kesslers know she copied those accounts, you have approximately twenty-four hours before they kill both of you.”
Roman took the envelope.
Inside was an old photograph.
Roman.
Isabella.
Vincent Kessler.
Gabriel Kessler.
And another man Chloe did not recognize.
Behind them stood a warehouse.
On the back somebody had written:
BLACK HARBOR — 2009
Chloe looked at Roman.
“You said Black Harbor was the name connected to your assassination attempt.”
Roman nodded.
Isabella's voice came from the doorway.
“It wasn't created six months ago.”
Roman stared at his sister.
She continued.
“Black Harbor was Dad's secret account.”
May you like
A long silence.
“And Vincent Kessler has controlled it since the night our father died.”
