Chapter 6 - What Roman Chose Instead of Revenge
The photograph showed Harper asleep.
Not at Roman’s house.
In her own apartment.
The timestamp was from three months earlier.
Harper stared at it until her stomach turned.
“Somebody was inside my bedroom.”
Roman stood across the study.
“Yes.”
“While I was sleeping.”
“Yes.”
She looked at him.
“And you still think I’m safe here?”
Roman did not answer immediately.
That frightened her.
“What?”
“We have a leak.”
Harper’s blood ran cold.
“Here?”
“Possibly.”
Roman called his security chiefs.
The estate locked down.
Nobody entered.
Nobody left.
For the next twelve hours, every guard, employee, driver and contractor was questioned.
Harper remained with Beatrice and Evelyn.
Roman disappeared into the machinery of his world.
When Harper finally saw him again, it was almost dawn.
He looked exhausted.
“Anything?”
“One guard lied about his whereabouts.”
“Who?”
“Martin Keller.”
Harper recognized him.
He had driven Beatrice to medical appointments for years.
Roman’s expression was grim.
“He disappeared twenty minutes before lockdown.”
Harper looked toward Beatrice.
“Does she know?”
“No.”
“You have to tell her.”
“I know.”
They found Keller’s abandoned vehicle near the Brooklyn waterfront.
Inside was a burner phone.
Messages connected him to Vittorio DeLuca.
The betrayal went deeper than surveillance.
Keller had been feeding DeLuca information about Beatrice for years.
Her routines.
Her doctors.
Her charities.
And recently, Harper.
Roman read the messages in silence.
Harper watched his face harden.
“He used your mother.”
“Yes.”
“You trusted him.”
“Yes.”
Roman’s voice was flat.
Harper understood that this betrayal was personal.
She touched his arm.
He looked at her hand.
Then at her.
“I’m sorry.”
Roman gave a bitter laugh.
“You’re apologizing to me?”
“Being powerful doesn’t make betrayal hurt less.”
Something broke through his expression.
He covered her hand with his.
“Harper.”
The way he said her name changed the air.
She should have moved.
She didn’t.
Roman stepped closer.
“You should hate me.”
“I tried.”
“Try harder.”
“That sounds like terrible romantic advice.”
His mouth curved.
Then Harper kissed him.
She surprised herself.
Roman froze for half a second.
Then his hand moved carefully to her cheek.
There was nothing rough about the kiss.
Nothing possessive.
For a man whose entire reputation depended on taking control, Roman kissed her like he was asking permission.
Harper answered by moving closer.
When they separated, both were breathing differently.
“This is a terrible idea,” Harper whispered.
“Probably.”
“My life was normal four days ago.”
“You worked fourteen-hour shifts for a manager who threatened to throw people into rivers.”
“Normal is relative.”
Roman laughed softly.
Then the study door opened.
Beatrice stood there.
Harper jumped backward.
Beatrice looked from Harper to Roman.
Then smiled.
Roman signed awkwardly:
Go away.
Beatrice laughed.
Harper covered her face.
“This is humiliating.”
Roman looked almost pleased.
“It gets worse.”
“How?”
“My mother will tell yours.”
He was right.
By breakfast, Evelyn knew.
Harper refused to look at either woman.
For several precious hours, the Moretti house almost felt safe.
Then Harper received a text.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
A photograph appeared.
Evelyn.
Sitting in the garden.
Taken moments earlier.
Harper stood so fast her chair fell.
Another message arrived.
YOU FOUND THE VIDEO.
A third.
BRING THE LAPTOP TO PIER 19.
ALONE.
OR YOUR MOTHER DOESN’T SEE TOMORROW.
Harper looked toward the windows.
Evelyn was still in the garden.
Alive.
A guard stood nearby.
But somebody had taken the picture from inside the property.
The leak was still there.
Harper did the worst possible thing.
She told no one.
She knew Roman would never let her go.
She also knew Vittorio expected that.
Harper retrieved Leo’s laptop from the study.
She slipped through the service corridor.
An old delivery entrance led toward the rear gate.
Harper used an employee badge she had seen hanging near the kitchen.
Twenty minutes later, she was in a cab.
Her phone rang.
Roman.
She ignored it.
Again.
Again.
Then a message.
ROMAN: Come back.
HARPER: I can’t.
ROMAN: Whatever he threatened, we handle it together.
Her eyes filled.
HARPER: He has eyes inside your house.
ROMAN: I know.
Harper froze.
HARPER: What?
ROMAN: The photograph was bait.
Her heart stopped.
The cab turned toward the river.
ROMAN: Harper, DO NOT GO TO PIER 19.
She looked at the driver.
“Stop the car.”
The locks clicked.
Harper’s stomach dropped.
The driver looked at her through the mirror.
He was smiling.
“Too late.”
Harper reached for the handle.
Locked.
The cab accelerated.
She grabbed her phone.
The driver slammed on the brakes.
Her phone flew forward.
He reached back and seized it.
Harper screamed.
The car continued toward the industrial waterfront.
At Pier 19, the driver dragged her from the vehicle.
Harper kicked him hard enough to break free for three seconds.
Then another man caught her.
“Get off me!”
She was pulled into a warehouse.
Vittorio DeLuca waited inside.
He was in his sixties.
Elegant.
Silver-haired.
He looked more like a retired banker than the man who might have ordered the death of a seventeen-year-old boy.
His eyes moved to the laptop.
“Leo was smarter than I gave him credit for.”
Harper stopped fighting.
“You killed him.”
Vittorio smiled faintly.
“I corrected a problem.”
Harper’s eyes filled.
“He was a child.”
“He was a witness.”
The words destroyed the last fragment of uncertainty.
“You poisoned him.”
Vittorio tilted his head.
“Carlo arranged it. Something subtle enough to exploit the heart problem.”
Harper could barely breathe.
Seven years.
Seven years of believing Leo’s heart had betrayed him.
It hadn’t.
People had.
“You’re going to pay.”
Vittorio smiled.
“Roman Moretti has spent his life believing fear is power. Tonight he’ll discover fear is simply leverage.”
He took the laptop.
Then Harper noticed something.
A tiny green light.
The webcam.
She remembered the storage unit.
Someone had remotely accessed it.
But Roman’s security team had installed tracking software afterward.
Vittorio had just taken the device.
Which meant Roman knew exactly where she was.
Harper looked at Vittorio.
She smiled.
He frowned.
“What?”
“You made a mistake.”
His expression hardened.
“What mistake?”
“You took the laptop.”
Outside, tires screamed against pavement.
Vittorio’s men turned.
Harper heard doors slam.
Then Roman’s voice echoed through the warehouse.
“Vittorio!”
Harper closed her eyes.
Vittorio grabbed her.
Something cold pressed against her side.
Roman entered.
His men spread behind him.
His face was terrifyingly calm.
Vittorio held Harper tighter.
Roman’s eyes locked on hers.
“Let her go.”
Vittorio smiled.
“You sound like your father.”
Roman took one step forward.
Harper saw murder in his expression.
And she also saw something else.
Fear.
For her.
May you like
Vittorio whispered beside her ear.
“Watch what love does to dangerous men.”
