Chapter 11 - A Letter From a Dead Woman
Vincent didn’t run alone.
Three financial officers vanished.
Two company servers were wiped.
A warehouse was emptied overnight.
And one of Roman’s own guards stopped answering his phone.
The betrayal was no longer theoretical.
It was inside the house.
Daniel wanted Roman and Lily moved to a federal safe location.
Roman said no.
Lily said yes.
Roman stared at her.
She folded her arms.
“Democracy.”
I coughed to hide a laugh.
Sophia pointed at Lily.
“I vote with her.”
Roman looked at me.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Immensely.”
We relocated for four days to a private federal facility outside Chicago.
Calling it a safe house was generous.
It had beige walls, uncomfortable beds and coffee that qualified as emotional punishment.
Roman lasted seven hours before attempting to reorganize the kitchen.
I slapped his hand away from my coffee maker.
“Touch it and die.”
“You don’t own it.”
“I have bonded with it.”
Lily laughed.
Normal moments became precious.
Between interviews and documents, Lily helped me test recipes.
Sophia played cards with federal agents and cheated shamelessly.
Roman answered questions for ten hours a day.
Some answers could cost him everything.
I knew that because Daniel told me.
“You understand he may face charges.”
I looked through the interview-room window.
Roman sat at a table.
No jacket.
No power.
Just a man making a choice.
“He understands.”
“Does Lily?”
“Not completely.”
Daniel nodded.
“Roman protected people. He also participated in things.”
“You don’t have to convince me.”
“You care about him.”
I looked at Daniel.
“Was that your prosecutor technique?”
“No.”
“Yes.”
He smiled faintly.
“I’m saying this because people sometimes rewrite someone’s past after seeing them do one good thing.”
“I won’t.”
That was important.
Roman did not become good because he loved Lily.
Love did not erase harm.
But change had to mean something too.
That evening Lily found another page folded inside Elena’s letter.
It had stuck beneath the envelope lining.
She brought it to us.
This part was only for Roman.
He tried to read privately.
Lily refused.
“She wrote it because she knew you’d hide.”
Roman looked annoyed.
I leaned toward him.
“She knows you.”
He read aloud.
Roman, if I’m gone, I know what you will do. You will blame yourself. You will become harder. You will tell yourself hardness is necessary because softness failed me. Please don’t.
Roman stopped.
His voice changed when he continued.
You were sixteen when Dad first taught you fear. You were twenty when you began protecting me from him. You were never supposed to become everybody’s shield.
Sophia looked down.
She knew that history.
I didn’t.
Lily doesn’t need a king. She needs an uncle. She needs bad jokes, school concerts, burnt pizza, embarrassing photographs and someone who lets her make mistakes.
Lily smiled through tears.
And if someday you meet someone who sees the man beneath the name, don’t punish her for it.
Roman stopped reading.
Sophia looked directly at me.
“Oh, don’t.”
She smiled.
“Elena was always perceptive.”
“This was written before he met me.”
“Details.”
Roman continued quickly.
Destroy what should have ended with Dad. Keep what can become honest. And remember that walking away from power is not weakness when power is costing you the people you love.
Roman folded the letter.
Nobody spoke.
Then Lily said, “So?”
Roman looked at her.
“So what?”
“Are you going to listen?”
He gave a humorless laugh.
“Your mother continues to be impossible.”
“That means yes?”
“Yes.”
Lily hugged him.
Roman closed his eyes.
Later that night I found him outside on the back steps.
“You were sixteen?”
He knew what I meant.
“When my father started bringing me to meetings.”
“That’s young.”
“I didn’t feel young.”
“Lily probably doesn’t either.”
“No.”
I sat beside him.
“What did you do at sixteen?”
He stared across the dark field.
“Learned how quickly adults become polite when they fear your last name.”
“And at thirty-four?”
“Learning how useless fear is when a sixteen-year-old refuses to eat.”
I smiled.
“That’s almost wisdom.”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
We sat quietly.
Then he said, “You should leave.”
My stomach tightened.
“I thought we stopped this.”
“When this is over.”
“Oh.”
“You should walk away from me.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because Daniel is right. Cooperation doesn’t erase my past.”
“I know.”
“I may lose businesses.”
“Okay.”
“My reputation.”
“Good.”
He almost smiled.
“I may face consequences.”
“You should if they’re deserved.”
He turned.
“You make terrible romantic speeches.”
“I didn’t realize this was one.”
Our eyes met.
The air changed.
Roman lifted one hand.
Stopped before touching my face.
Choice.
He was giving me one.
I closed the distance.
The kiss was brief.
Soft.
Nothing like the man’s reputation.
When we separated he rested his forehead against mine.
“This is a bad idea.”
“Probably.”
“You should go inside.”
“Probably.”
Neither of us moved.
Then the back door opened.
Lily stood there.
“Seriously?”
I laughed.
Roman looked toward the sky.
“We need another safe house.”
But the humor vanished the next morning.
One of the missing guards had been found.
Alive.
May you like
Terrified.
And ready to explain exactly how Vincent had known everything happening inside Roman’s home.
