Chapter 5 - The Woman Everyone Underestimated
Sadi did not cancel Chloe’s wedding.
Neither did Chloe.
At three fifteen, her sister walked into the bridal suite wearing her gown and said, “I’m still marrying Ethan.”
Linda gasped.
Sadi asked, “Are you sure?”
“No.”
“That’s not encouraging.”
Chloe smiled weakly.
“I’m sure I love him. I’m not sure I forgive him yet.”
“You don’t have to do both today.”
“I know.”
Chloe looked toward the window.
“He offered to postpone.”
“And?”
“I told him if we survive our mother, fake art, organized crime, and our rehearsal dinner, we can probably survive therapy.”
Sadi laughed.
Chloe squeezed her hand.
“What about Roman?”
“There is no Roman.”
“That seems unlikely. He is downstairs scaring florists.”
“He lied to me.”
“About?”
Sadi told her.
Her father.
The evidence.
Roman refusing to help.
Chloe listened quietly.
When Sadi finished, her sister asked, “Did Roman kill Dad?”
“No.”
“Did he cause his death?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Dad ask him to protect him?”
“Yes.”
“And Roman said no.”
“Yes.”
Chloe nodded.
“That’s terrible.”
Sadi looked at her.
“But?”
“No but.”
Chloe touched her arm.
“You’re allowed to be angry without converting it into a permanent verdict before you know everything.”
Sadi stared.
“When did you get wise?”
“Approximately twenty minutes ago.”
The ceremony began.
Roman sat in the final row.
Not beside Sadi.
She noticed anyway.
So did everyone else.
Derek sat beside Amanda near the middle.
Amanda had apparently spent the night reevaluating her engagement.
Good for her.
When Chloe walked down the aisle, Ethan cried.
Real tears.
Sadi hated how much that helped.
The ceremony remained peaceful.
Until the reception.
A man from the Moretti organization entered during the first dance.
He carried no visible weapon.
He did not need one.
He handed Ethan a formal demand for repayment.
Roman started toward them.
Sadi intercepted him.
“No.”
“This is not the time.”
“It is exactly the time.”
She took the document.
The amount demanded was three million dollars.
Including “fees.”
Sadi read the list of pledged assets.
Oak Park house.
Ethan’s company shares.
Two paintings supposedly owned by the Miller family.
She stopped.
“We don’t own paintings.”
Roman looked.
“Which paintings?”
Sadi read the titles.
One was the fake Hartwell hanging in the east corridor.
Her pulse quickened.
“They listed an artwork that belongs to this country club as collateral allegedly owned by us.”
Roman understood immediately.
“The contract is manufactured.”
Sadi smiled.
Not happily.
Dangerously.
“Exactly.”
The Moretti representative looked uncomfortable.
Sadi turned toward him.
“You expected nobody in my family to understand the art clause.”
He said nothing.
“You thought Ethan would panic.”
Silence.
“You thought my mother would sign anything.”
Linda lowered her eyes.
“And you assumed the fat maid with the useless art degree wouldn’t read the paperwork.”
The man’s gaze flickered.
Roman’s expression became lethal.
Sadi raised one hand without looking at him.
He stopped.
Her moment.
“I want copies of every provenance certificate tied to these works.”
The man laughed.
“You think this is a museum dispute?”
“No.”
Sadi stepped closer.
“I think your people fabricated an asset trail using counterfeit paintings, then attached those assets to loans you designed to fail.”
His smile disappeared.
“You should be careful.”
Roman moved.
Sadi looked at him.
“Don’t.”
Roman stopped again.
Sadi returned her gaze to the man.
“Threatening me in a ballroom with forty witnesses and six cameras seems like poor financial planning.”
The representative walked away.
Roman watched him go.
Then he looked at Sadi.
“That was reckless.”
She stared.
“You are not allowed to call anyone reckless.”
“Fair.”
She handed him the document.
“I need access to your records about my father.”
Roman’s face tightened.
“All of them.”
“Yes.”
“No redactions.”
“Sadi—”
“All. Of. Them.”
Roman held her gaze.
Then nodded.
“Fine.”
She had expected resistance.
The immediate agreement unsettled her.
That evening, after the wedding ended, Sadi returned to the Rossi estate for one reason only.
Files.
Roman led her into his study.
He unlocked a cabinet.
Inside was a thin folder labeled MARTIN MILLER.
Sadi’s hands shook.
The first document was a copy of her father’s meeting request.
The second was his summary of suspicious insurance claims.
The third was a handwritten note from Roman.
NOT OUR FIGHT.
Sadi stared.
Roman stood several feet away.
She looked up.
“You wrote this?”
“Yes.”
“Two words.”
“Yes.”
“My father asked for help and you reduced him to two words.”
Roman looked sick.
She had never seen that expression on him.
“Back then, I believed avoiding someone else’s war kept my people safe.”
“And did it?”
“No.”
Sadi turned another page.
A photograph slid out.
Her father standing beside someone she recognized.
Derek.
Much younger.
Maybe twenty-two.
Sadi’s breath stopped.
“That’s impossible.”
Roman moved closer.
“What?”
“Derek never met my father.”
The date stamp said otherwise.
Two years before Sadi and Derek started dating.
Sadi stared at the man she had once loved.
A new possibility formed.
“What if Derek didn’t meet me by accident?”
Roman’s face hardened.
Before he could answer, Sadi’s phone rang.
Amanda.
Sadi picked up.
Amanda was crying.
“Sadi?”
“What happened?”
“I broke up with Derek.”
Sadi closed her eyes.
“Are you safe?”
“Yes.”
A pause.
“But I found something in his apartment.”
“What?”
“A box.”
Amanda’s voice shook.
“It has pictures of you.”
Sadi went cold.
“How old?”
“I don’t know. Years.”
Roman’s gaze sharpened.
May you like
Amanda whispered the final sentence.
“There are pictures from before you ever met him.”
