Chapter 4 - What Roman’s Father Left Behind
Roman had been twenty-six when Alessandro DeLuca died.
Everyone knew the public version.
Heart attack.
Private residence.
No suspicious circumstances.
What the public did not know was that Roman had found his father lying on the floor of his study with an empty whiskey glass beside his hand.
Or that Roman had always wondered why Alessandro’s personal physician disappeared six weeks later.
Isabella sat at the farmhouse table.
“Dad wasn't sick.”
Roman stared at her.
“You told me you believed the autopsy.”
“I wanted to.”
“That's different.”
“I know.”
Chloe sat quietly.
This wasn't her family.
Yet somehow her stolen spreadsheet had cracked open fifteen years of secrets.
Isabella pushed another photograph across the table.
A younger Vincent Kessler stood beside Alessandro.
“Dad discovered Vincent was moving money.”
“How much?” Roman asked.
“Four million.”
Chloe almost laughed.
Roman looked toward her.
“What?”
“Apparently theft grows with inflation.”
Isabella's mouth twitched.
Roman did not smile.
“So Dad confronted Vincent.”
“Yes.”
“And died?”
“Eight days later.”
Roman stood.
His chair scraped backward.
“You knew?”
“Not then.”
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
Roman's voice became dangerous.
“And you didn't tell me?”
“I had no proof.”
“You had enough proof to hire surveillance on Chloe.”
Isabella looked at her.
“I hired surveillance because Tommy Kessler was watching her.”
Chloe blinked.
“What?”
“The photograph wasn't a threat from us.”
Roman stared.
“Then why leave it with Tommy?”
“I didn't.”
Silence.
Isabella leaned forward.
“My investigator photographed Chloe because Tommy had started moving money through accounts in her name.”
Chloe felt the room tilt.
“My name?”
“You didn't know?”
“No.”
Isabella opened her phone.
Three companies.
Mercer Solutions LLC.
CM Freight Services.
Chloe Holdings.
Chloe stared.
“I never created these.”
“We know.”
Roman’s expression went terrifyingly calm.
“How much money?”
Isabella answered.
“Forty-one million over three years.”
Chloe laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
“I made thirty-eight thousand dollars last year.”
Nobody spoke.
Her voice cracked.
“He told me I was bad with money.”
Roman's eyes darkened.
“He opened credit cards in my name. Told me I should be grateful he paid rent.”
She looked at Isabella.
“He was laundering millions through me?”
“Yes.”
Chloe stood.
The room became too small.
She walked toward the porch.
Roman followed but stopped several feet away.
“Don't.”
He stopped.
She wrapped her arms around herself.
“I am so stupid.”
“No.”
“I lived with him.”
“That doesn't make you responsible.”
“I signed things.”
“You signed things he put in front of you.”
“Exactly.”
Roman's voice hardened.
“Chloe.”
She looked at him.
“Men like Tommy survive by making the person they're controlling believe every trap was her own decision.”
The words landed.
“How do you know?”
Roman was silent.
Then he sat on the porch step.
“My mother.”
Chloe didn't expect that.
“My father controlled everything.”
Roman looked toward the trees.
“What she wore. Who she spoke to. What she spent. When she left the house.”
“He hit her?”
Roman's jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“I thought Mafia wives were protected.”
“From everyone except the men protecting them.”
Chloe slowly sat beside him.
“My mother left when I was fourteen.”
“Good.”
“She returned six months later.”
“Why?”
“He threatened Isabella.”
Chloe looked through the window toward Roman's sister.
Roman continued.
“My mother stayed until we were adults.”
“What happened then?”
“She disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
“She lives in France.”
Chloe blinked.
“You say that like she joined witness protection.”
“In some ways, she did.”
For the first time, Chloe understood why Roman had looked at Tommy the way he had.
Not because Chloe belonged to him.
Because Roman had seen that same terror before.
In his own house.
Roman looked at her.
“Tommy doesn't get to turn what he did into your shame.”
Chloe's eyes burned.
She wiped them.
“That's annoyingly insightful.”
“I have moments.”
“Rare?”
“Extremely.”
She smiled.
Then Roman's phone rang.
Marco.
“Boss. We found Tommy.”
“Where?”
“Your Midtown club.”
Roman's face hardened.
“Why?”
“He says he wants to trade.”
“For what?”
“Chloe.”
Every muscle in Roman's body changed.
Marco continued quickly.
“He has her duffel bag.”
Chloe stood.
“My mother's necklace.”
Roman stared at her.
“No.”
“What?”
“You're not going.”
“He has my things.”
“I will retrieve them.”
“No.”
“Chloe.”
“You said I'm not your prisoner.”
His jaw tightened.
“Do not use my own words against me.”
“Then stop making them easy.”
Isabella appeared behind them.
“I like her.”
Roman ignored his sister.
“Tommy wants you physically present.”
“Good.”
“No.”
“If he thinks I’m still scared of him, he'll talk.”
Roman stared.
Chloe held his gaze.
“You need him to talk.”
“I need you alive.”
“Both can happen.”
Roman rubbed his jaw.
“This is a terrible idea.”
“Probably.”
That evening, they built the trap.
The Midtown club remained closed.
Hidden microphones.
Security in surrounding rooms.
Police were not involved.
Chloe noticed.
“You don't trust them?”
“Some.”
“Then why not call those?”
“Because we still don't know who Black Harbor owns.”
At 11:30 p.m., Chloe entered alone.
Tommy waited near the bar.
He smiled when he saw her.
“There she is.”
Her stomach twisted.
But she kept walking.
The duffel sat on a stool.
“You look good.”
Chloe said nothing.
Tommy's smile sharpened.
“You always did look better after you calmed down.”
The old Chloe would have apologized.
The new one said:
“You stole forty-one million dollars using my identity.”
His face changed.
Only slightly.
Enough.
“You have no idea what you're talking about.”
“I know about Mercer Solutions.”
Silence.
“CM Freight.”
His jaw tightened.
“And Black Harbor.”
That did it.
Tommy looked toward the closed club doors.
“Who told you that?”
Chloe smiled.
“You just did.”
Tommy lunged.
Roman appeared from the darkness.
Tommy froze.
Roman walked slowly toward them.
No visible weapon.
No raised voice.
Just controlled fury.
“One step closer to her,” Roman said, “and you'll regret surviving tonight.”
Tommy looked between them.
Then laughed.
“You think she's innocent?”
Roman stopped.
“She copied your files because I told her to.”
Chloe stared.
“What?”
Tommy smiled at her.
“Think, baby.”
“Don't call me that.”
“You found exactly what I wanted you to find.”
Roman's face changed.
Tommy continued.
“The flash drive wasn't evidence against us.”
He looked directly at Roman.
“It was bait.”
A red light appeared suddenly against Roman's chest.
Laser sight.
Chloe saw it first.
“Roman!”
She hit him sideways.
The shot shattered bottles behind them.
Security erupted from every direction.
Tommy ran.
Roman dragged Chloe behind the bar.
Another shot cracked.
Then silence.
Marco's voice shouted from the balcony.
“Shooter down!”
Roman looked at Chloe.
“You hit me.”
“You're welcome.”
His hand touched her cheek.
Quickly.
Checking.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
Tommy had disappeared through the kitchen.
But he had left one thing behind.
The duffel bag.
Inside was Chloe's necklace.
Clothes.
Cash.
And an unfamiliar envelope.
Roman opened it.
One sentence.
ROMAN — ASK ISABELLA WHO REALLY ORDERED BLACK HARBOR.
Roman looked toward his sister.
May you like
She had just entered the club.
For the first time, Isabella DeLuca looked afraid.
