Chapter 6 - The Man Chloe Thought Was Dead
Chloe did not get into Tommy’s car.
That decision saved her life.
Roman reached the gate seconds before Tommy accelerated away.
He did not chase him.
He looked at Chloe.
“You okay?”
She held out the phone Tommy had thrown onto the road.
“My father.”
Roman watched the video.
Thomas Mercer walked through the lobby of an assisted-living facility in Pennsylvania.
Gray hair.
Thin shoulders.
Older.
Alive.
Chloe's knees weakened.
Roman caught her elbow.
She jerked away instinctively.
He released her immediately.
“Sorry.”
She hated that she noticed.
The photograph had been taken three months earlier.
Marco traced the facility.
By noon, Chloe and Roman were driving west.
She had agreed to Roman coming because the facility’s registration records were connected to a Kessler-owned medical company.
She told herself that was the only reason.
Neither spoke much.
Finally Roman said:
“You don't owe me forgiveness.”
“I know.”
“My father—”
“Wasn't you.”
He looked surprised.
Chloe stared through the windshield.
“That doesn't mean I'm okay.”
“I know.”
“I don't even know what okay means anymore.”
Roman nodded.
“I know that too.”
The facility was private.
Expensive.
Discreet.
Thomas Mercer lived under another name.
Peter Moore.
When Chloe entered his room, an elderly man was sitting beside the window.
He looked up.
His eyes were exactly like hers.
Chloe stopped.
The room blurred.
“Dad?”
Thomas Mercer began crying.
No dramatic denial.
No confusion.
He knew her immediately.
“Chloe.”
Her legs nearly failed.
Twenty years of anger collapsed in one word.
“You're alive.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You're alive.”
She crossed the room.
Then stopped before reaching him.
“You left us.”
Thomas shook his head.
“No.”
“Mom said—”
“She had to.”
Roman remained near the doorway.
Thomas saw him.
Fear entered his face.
“DeLuca.”
Roman's expression tightened.
“I'm not my father.”
Thomas looked at Chloe.
“What are you doing with him?”
“He helped me.”
Thomas laughed bitterly.
“That's how DeLucas begin.”
Roman accepted the insult.
Chloe sat down.
“Tell me.”
Thomas’s hands shook.
Twenty years earlier, Roman’s mother, Lucia, had approached him.
Thomas sold commercial insurance to several DeLuca businesses.
He discovered bruises.
Saw fear.
Lucia eventually asked for help.
Thomas arranged false documents and a car.
Alessandro found out.
Vincent Kessler was ordered to make Thomas disappear.
“But he didn't kill you.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Thomas looked toward Roman.
“Because Vincent needed someone who knew the financial structure of DeLuca companies.”
Roman stepped closer.
“He forced you to work?”
“For fourteen years.”
Chloe's stomach twisted.
“Where?”
“Offshore.”
Thomas had created shell corporations.
Hidden assets.
Political payments.
He had been Black Harbor's original accountant.
“When did you escape?”
“Six years ago.”
“Why didn't you find us?”
His eyes filled.
“I did.”
Chloe stopped breathing.
“What?”
“I found your mother.”
“When?”
“Three months before she died.”
Chloe stared.
“She never told me.”
“She believed Kessler was still watching you.”
He looked down.
“She told me staying away was the only way to keep you alive.”
Chloe covered her mouth.
All those years.
All that anger.
Built on a lie meant to protect her.
Roman asked:
“Why this facility?”
“Kessler found me last year.”
Thomas's face tightened.
“He told me if I ran again, he'd kill Chloe.”
Roman went cold.
“Vincent knows she's alive because of him,” Chloe whispered.
Thomas nodded.
“Tommy was assigned to watch you.”
The room disappeared.
Chloe's chest tightened.
“What?”
“He was supposed to stay close.”
“No.”
“I'm sorry.”
“No.”
Everything she thought she knew about her relationship changed.
Tommy’s chance meeting at a bar.
His sudden interest.
Moving in together.
His job offer.
None of it had been chance.
“He never loved me.”
Thomas didn't answer.
Roman’s jaw clenched.
Chloe stood abruptly.
“I need air.”
She made it to the hallway.
Roman followed but stayed several feet away.
She leaned against the wall.
“I wasted three years.”
“No.”
“Stop saying no.”
Roman went silent.
“I changed everything for him.”
Her voice cracked.
“My clothes. My friends. My job. I thought if I could just stop making him angry…”
Roman's eyes darkened.
“He was manipulating you from the beginning.”
“That doesn't make me feel better.”
“I know.”
She looked at him.
“Do you?”
He did not defend himself.
“Yes.”
“Because your father controlled your mother?”
“Yes.”
“What about you?”
Roman stiffened.
“What about me?”
“Who controls you?”
He almost laughed.
“No one.”
“That's not true.”
Roman looked away.
“Your father still does.”
That landed.
“You still run his businesses.”
“I changed them.”
“You still carry his enemies.”
Silence.
“You still solve problems the way he taught you.”
Roman's face hardened.
“You think I am him?”
“No.”
Chloe stepped closer.
“I think you're terrified you might be.”
For once, Roman had no response.
Thomas was moved out of the facility that afternoon.
Somewhere Kessler could not reach.
Before leaving, he gave Chloe a key.
“To what?”
“A safe-deposit box.”
“Where?”
“Manhattan.”
“What’s inside?”
Thomas looked at Roman.
“The original Black Harbor ledger.”
Roman froze.
“You have it?”
“Not anymore.”
Thomas looked at Chloe.
“It's hers.”
“Why?”
“Because twenty years ago Alessandro DeLuca made one mistake.”
Roman’s expression tightened.
Thomas continued.
“He kept records of everything.”
“And the ledger proves it?”
“More than that.”
Thomas lowered his voice.
“It proves Vincent Kessler didn't kill Alessandro.”
Roman stared.
“Then who did?”
Thomas looked toward the open doorway.
Nobody was there.
Still, he whispered.
“Roman's mother.”
The drive back to Manhattan was silent for forty miles.
Finally Roman said:
“Lucia couldn't have.”
Chloe looked at him.
“You said your father abused her.”
“That doesn't mean—”
“It means she had motive.”
Roman’s hands tightened on the wheel.
Chloe immediately regretted the bluntness.
“Sorry.”
“No.”
He stared ahead.
“Don't apologize for saying what I already thought.”
She watched him.
Roman looked suddenly younger.
Not the feared man from newspapers.
A son.
“I haven't spoken to my mother in eight years.”
“Why?”
“She asked me to leave this life.”
“And?”
“I told her somebody had to keep Isabella safe.”
Chloe understood.
“You stayed for your sister.”
“Yes.”
“Just like your mother stayed for you.”
Roman glanced at her.
The parallel hurt.
When they reached Manhattan, Roman drove directly to the bank.
The safe-deposit box contained a leather ledger.
Old.
Handwritten.
Signed.
Payments to politicians.
Police commanders.
Judges.
Kesslers.
And one final entry dated the night Alessandro DeLuca died.
Payment authorized: L. DeLuca — $1.
Chloe stared.
“One dollar?”
Roman went pale.
He knew exactly what it meant.
His father had once told his children something.
If someone ever paid you one dollar for a job, it wasn't business.
It was personal.
Roman closed the ledger.
“My mother killed him.”
Chloe looked at him.
Before either could say more, Roman's phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
A woman's voice spoke.
“Roman.”
He stopped breathing.
“Mom?”
Lucia DeLuca had not contacted him in eight years.
Her voice remained calm.
“You found the ledger.”
Roman looked at Chloe.
“Yes.”
“Then Vincent knows too.”
“How?”
“Because he has watched that bank for twenty years.”
Roman turned toward the glass doors.
Outside, three black SUVs pulled up.
Men emerged.
Lucia's voice came sharply through the phone.
“Roman, get Chloe out of there.”
Gunfire shattered the bank's front windows.
Roman grabbed Chloe.
May you like
And suddenly the truth about his father no longer mattered.
Surviving the next sixty seconds did.
