Chapter 5 - The Account Roman Never Saw
Roman did not deny the company belonged to him.
That would have been easier.
Instead, he asked for the name.
“Harbor Crest Logistics,” Sadi said.
Roman’s face changed.
Not guilt.
Recognition.
“What?”
“That company should be dormant.”
“Should be?”
“It has not operated in four years.”
Maya remained on speaker.
“The account received three transfers from Bellweather Strategies in the last eight months.”
Roman walked to his desk.
“How much?”
“Two point four million total.”
Sadi’s stomach dropped.
Roman opened his laptop.
Arthur entered without knocking, which told Sadi he had already been summoned.
“Harbor Crest,” Roman said.
Arthur stopped.
“Boss.”
“Who controls the accounts?”
Arthur’s expression hardened.
“Those were closed.”
“Apparently not.”
Maya said, “I’m giving you six hours before I publish.”
Roman looked at the phone.
“Why?”
“Because if the account is fraudulent, I’d rather not falsely imply you took bribes.”
“How generous.”
“Don’t make me regret it.”
She hung up.
Sadi watched Roman.
This was the part outsiders never understood about power.
The larger the empire, the more places betrayal could hide.
Roman trusted very few people.
Arthur was one.
Vincent another.
His cousin Luca handled some legal entities.
His uncle Enzo still controlled several legacy businesses Roman had been trying to clean up for years.
“Who had authority?” Sadi asked.
Roman did not answer at first.
Then he said, “My uncle.”
Arthur swore softly.
Sadi leaned against the desk.
“Enzo?”
“Yes.”
Roman had never hidden his family from her.
But he had hidden how fragile some internal truces were.
Enzo believed Roman’s push toward legitimate businesses made the family weak. He tolerated Sadi because Roman required it, but he had once told her across a dinner table that women from poverty should appreciate being upgraded.
She had replied that old men with inherited money should avoid confusing luck with superiority.
They had not become friends.
Arthur checked internal records.
Harbor Crest had been reactivated using a board consent document bearing Roman’s digital signature.
Roman stared at the screen.
“I never signed this.”
Sadi’s pulse quickened.
Trevor’s world and Roman’s had not collided by accident.
Someone had built a bridge.
Arthur said, “Enzo had archive access.”
Roman’s voice went cold.
“Bring him.”
Sadi stepped forward.
“No.”
Roman looked at her.
“No?”
“Call your attorney first. Freeze the account. Preserve everything. Then ask questions.”
Roman’s mouth tightened.
“Someone used my name to launder political money.”
“Which is exactly why you don’t solve it like a family insult.”
Arthur looked between them.
Roman asked, “You think I would kill my uncle?”
“I think you are angry enough to make him disappear from every room in the city.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“It is to prosecutors.”
A long silence.
Then Roman exhaled.
“Call counsel.”
Arthur nodded.
Sadi did not feel victorious.
She felt relieved.
Hours later, they learned Harbor Crest’s account had been opened through forged corporate resolutions.
The bank employee who approved it had left the country.
The signatory documents traced back to a legal review completed by Trevor Cole.
There it was.
Trevor had not simply represented Bellweather.
He had helped resurrect a dead Moretti company using Roman’s identity.
The question became why.
The answer arrived at five forty-five.
Enzo Moretti walked into Roman’s library without being dragged.
He was sixty-three, silver-haired, elegant, and completely unafraid.
Sadi hated that calm immediately.
Roman placed the forged resolution on the desk.
Enzo looked at it.
Then at Roman.
“You finally found it.”
Arthur’s hand moved inside his jacket.
Roman did not blink.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
Sadi stared.
Enzo sat without being invited.
“Shaw needed development permits. I needed leverage over certain city contracts. Trevor needed money and protection.”
Roman’s voice was almost gentle.
“You used my name.”
“You were wasting it.”
That sentence carried decades of family resentment.
Enzo continued, “You want to be respectable. Fine. Respectability is expensive. Someone has to pay for your transition.”
Sadi felt sick.
“How many?” she asked.
Enzo looked at her.
“How many what?”
“People did Trevor hurt because he knew you would protect him?”
Enzo’s expression showed annoyance.
“I did not protect his personal life.”
“You protected his career.”
“I protected useful counsel.”
Roman stood.
Arthur moved.
Sadi moved too.
She stepped between Roman and his uncle.
Enzo smiled faintly.
“She thinks she can stop you.”
Roman looked at Sadi.
“No,” he said. “She knows she can.”
The room went silent.
Then Roman picked up his phone.
He called federal counsel.
Enzo’s smile disappeared.
For the first time, Sadi saw fear.
He rose slowly. “You would turn blood over to people who have wanted to bury this family for thirty years?”
Roman’s answer came without hesitation. “You used my name to protect corruption. You stopped being entitled to my protection when you made me part of it.”
Enzo looked at Sadi as if she had somehow caused the transformation. “This is her.”
Roman’s expression cooled. “No. This is me finally refusing to use family as an excuse.”
Sadi felt the significance of that sentence. Roman had spent his life believing loyalty meant absorbing the sins of the people nearest to him. She had never asked him to become harmless. She had asked him to become accountable. There was a difference.
Arthur returned with counsel on speaker and instructions to preserve every corporate server, bank credential, phone record, and visitor log connected to Harbor Crest. Roman repeated each instruction exactly. No smashed phones. No disappearing files. No men dragged into basements.
Enzo laughed once, bitterly. “You think paperwork makes you clean?”
“No,” Roman said. “But evidence makes you visible.”
Not because Roman might hurt him.
May you like
Because Roman had chosen something Enzo considered worse.
Exposure.
