Chapter 8 - THE LAST VALENTE PROMISE
Clare screamed.
Roman caught Theodore before he fell to the floor.
The bullet had struck his shoulder, narrowly missing his chest. Gabriel shouted for the security team while Roman dragged the wheelchair behind a stone pillar.
Mia buried her face against her mother's neck.
"Don't look," Clare whispered. "Look at me, baby. Just look at me."
Roman checked Theodore's pulse.
"He's alive."
Theodore grimaced.
"Unfortunately."
Even then, he managed a weak smile.
Roman pressed a folded cloth against the wound.
"Who fired?"
"Vincent's men," Theodore said. "They've been watching this place for years."
"Why didn't you come to me?"
Theodore looked at him with tired eyes.
"Because I helped your father hide the truth."
The admission silenced Roman.
Theodore explained that Alessandro had discovered a scheme involving falsified shipping manifests, stolen port funds, and payments to officials who were supposed to investigate the Valente organization.
Vincent had arranged the financial transfers.
But Alessandro had signed the original authorization documents.
He had allowed the scheme to continue because it kept the family's empire afloat during a period of financial collapse.
When he tried to end it, Vincent threatened to expose everything.
The warehouse explosion was meant to destroy the records and silence Alessandro.
Theodore had helped his brother escape, then staged his own death after realizing Vincent would eventually come after him.
"I thought staying away would protect you," Theodore admitted.
Roman's expression hardened.
"Another man deciding what everyone else deserves to know."
"I know."
"No, you don't. You left me to bury my father while you watched from a distance."
Theodore lowered his eyes.
"I was a coward."
Roman had no answer.
For years, he had imagined confronting the people responsible for his father's death. He had pictured revenge as a moment of perfect clarity, the kind that would settle every debt and finally bring peace.
Instead, every answer opened another wound.
Gabriel returned.
"The road is blocked. We can get out through the rear service tunnel, but we need to move now."
Roman helped Theodore stand.
Clare carried Mia, refusing to let the child walk near the windows.
They escaped through a narrow passage beneath the lighthouse and reached the convoy just as another vehicle appeared on the coastal road.
Roman ordered the drivers to split up.
One car carried Theodore to a private medical facility. Another took Gabriel toward New Orleans to secure the evidence.
Roman remained with Clare and Mia.
For the first time since the kidnapping, he could not think of a single strategic advantage to protect himself with.
He simply wanted Mia to sleep safely in her own bed.
At the mansion, Henry had prepared the child's room with warm blankets and a fresh cup of cocoa.
Mia refused to let go of Roman's hand.
"Will you stay until I fall asleep?"
He looked at Clare.
She nodded.
Roman sat beside the bed while Mia tucked Bunny under her chin.
"Are you angry with Uncle Teddy?"
"Yes."
"Are you angry with me?"
Roman felt something tighten in his chest.
"No."
"Even though I went with him?"
"Even then."
Mia thought about it.
"Sometimes I do things before I think."
"I've noticed."
She giggled.
Then her expression became serious.
"Mr. Roman, when you were little, did somebody keep you safe?"
The question left him speechless.
He remembered his father lifting him onto a horse. His mother's perfume. The sound of laughter in a house that had not yet become a fortress.
Then he remembered the funeral, the threats, and the years he spent learning that affection was a weakness people could exploit.
"My mother tried," he finally said.
"Was she nice?"
"Very."
"Then you should remember that."
Mia closed her eyes.
Within minutes, she was asleep.
Roman remained beside her until Clare gently touched his shoulder.
"She trusts you," Clare whispered.
"She shouldn't have to."
"That isn't what I meant."
He looked at her.
Clare sat beside him.
"You can't change what happened to you. But you can decide what kind of man she grows up knowing."
Roman glanced at the sleeping child.
"I don't know how to be that man."
"Neither did I know how to be a mother when Mia was born. I learned because she needed me."
She paused.
"You can learn, too."
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then Roman took Clare's hand.
It was a small gesture, almost hesitant.
But she didn't pull away.
Their faces moved closer, and for the first time, the silence between them felt peaceful.
A knock interrupted them.
Gabriel entered carrying a laptop.
"We recovered the original ledger," he said. "And we found the missing section of Alessandro's letter."
Roman stood.
"What does it say?"
Gabriel placed the document on the desk.
The missing paragraph contained a name.
Not Vincent Hale.
Not Theodore.
Not Julian Cross.
The name belonged to Roman's mother, Isabella.
Beneath it, Alessandro had written:
If Isabella has kept the child hidden, then she knows why the explosion happened. Do not trust the story I told you about her death.
Roman stared at the words.
His mother had died when he was twenty-four.
He had watched her coffin lowered into the ground.
May you like
But there had never been a public autopsy.
And suddenly, twelve years of carefully accepted memories began to unravel.
