Chapter 6 - THE MAN ROMAN CALLED UNCLEDeLuca House looked peaceful when Roman returned.
That was the disturbing part.
Snow covered the grounds in flawless white.
Christmas lights glowed around the columns.
Smoke rose from the chimneys.
Inside, stranded guests were eating breakfast as though nobody had nearly died.
Roman entered through the west service door with Claire, Gabriel, and Maria.
“Stay here,” he told Claire.
“No.”
“Claire.”
“My father died because of this.”
“And I’m not adding you to the list.”
“I spent two years taking orders in this house.”
She looked directly at him.
“I’m done.”
Roman almost argued.
Then stopped.
Maybe that was why Claire affected him.
She was frightened constantly and somehow moved forward anyway.
“Stay behind Gabriel.”
“That’s more reasonable.”
They descended into the cellar.
Broken glass covered the floor.
One Bellamy Reserve bottle had been smashed against the stone wall.
Empty.
No ledger.
Roman crouched.
“Wrong bottle.”
Gabriel examined the rack.
“There were four from 1990.”
Three remained.
Roman removed each carefully.
Nothing.
Claire looked around.
“Dad said behind the bottle he bragged about most.”
Roman stared at the rack.
“My father didn’t brag about one bottle.”
“What?”
“He bragged about the collection.”
Claire examined the carved wood behind the rack.
“Then maybe it’s literally behind the bottles.”
Gabriel moved the cabinet.
It resisted.
Roman noticed scratches along the stone floor.
“Again.”
They pulled.
The entire rack shifted away from the wall.
Behind it was a narrow recess.
Empty.
Except for dust marks where something rectangular had rested for years.
“They found it,” Claire whispered.
Roman looked down.
Fresh shoe prints led toward the old service tunnel.
“Gabriel.”
They followed.
The tunnel connected the cellar to a maintenance building near the south gardens.
Halfway through, they found Harold Howard.
Alive.
Barely conscious.
His wrists were bound.
There was dried blood at his temple.
Claire immediately knelt beside him.
Roman cut the restraints.
Howard opened his eyes.
“Mr. DeLuca…”
“Who did this?”
Howard coughed.
“Salvatore.”
Roman closed his eyes briefly.
Even with everything he knew, hearing the name hurt.
“Was he in the carriage house last night?”
Howard nodded.
Claire went still.
“He locked me out?”
Howard looked at her.
His face filled with shame.
“I turned off the camera.”
“Why?”
“My son.”
Howard began crying.
His adult son had been arrested six months earlier on serious narcotics charges.
Charles Mercer offered to make the case disappear.
In return Howard occasionally manipulated security.
“Last night they told me to disable the carriage-house camera.”
“Who is they?” Roman asked.
“Salvatore.”
Not Vivian.
Not Charles.
Salvatore.
“What did he tell you?”
“That Claire was stealing.”
Howard looked at her.
“I swear I didn’t know they were going to hurt you.”
“Then why did Vivian say she wouldn’t come back?”
Howard shook his head.
“I never saw that message. They were using my phone remotely.”
Gabriel frowned.
“Possible if the device was cloned.”
Howard struggled to continue.
“I saw Salvatore go into the carriage house before Claire left.”
Roman’s stomach turned.
“What happened?”
“I followed him.”
Claire stared.
“He had a snowmobile.”
Howard nodded.
“And cable.”
The cable used to jam the door.
“I confronted him.”
Howard’s voice cracked.
“He said Claire knew where Bennett’s ledger was.”
“And?”
“He told me to go back to the house.”
“You did?”
“I started to.”
Howard looked at Claire.
“Then I saw you crossing the lawn.”
He began crying again.
“I tried to call security. My phone was dead. Salvatore had disabled it.”
“What did Salvatore do?”
“He waited.”
Claire’s face lost color.
“Inside?”
“Yes.”
Roman’s fists clenched.
Howard continued.
“When you reached the door, he held it shut.”
Claire stopped breathing.
The memory came back.
The handle moving.
The light.
A shadow.
Someone had been standing inches away.
Watching her freeze.
“Why didn’t he just kill me?”
Howard answered:
“He wanted it to look like exposure.”
Roman’s rage became terrifyingly quiet.
“And when she collapsed?”
“Salvatore went out the rear entrance.”
“Why didn’t he check whether she was dead?”
“Because you came outside.”
Roman remembered.
He had gone looking for Claire only because Mrs. Patel mentioned she had not returned.
A two-minute difference.
Maybe less.
Had Roman finished his conversation with a senator—
Had Mrs. Patel remained silent—
Claire would have died.
Roman stood.
“Where did Salvatore take the ledger?”
Howard whispered:
“Boathouse.”
Gabriel immediately called his men.
No response from south perimeter security.
Roman knew why.
Salvatore had planned this.
They emerged from the tunnel.
Maria grabbed Roman’s arm.
“Don’t go after him.”
“He tried to murder Claire.”
“He’s my husband.”
Roman stared.
Maria’s eyes filled.
“That doesn’t mean I’m protecting him.”
“Then what?”
“You don’t know what Charles has.”
“What?”
“Evidence.”
“Of what?”
Maria lowered her voice.
“Your father.”
Roman froze.
Maria explained that Vincent DeLuca had not merely ignored Mercer’s theft.
He had participated.
The DeLuca and Mercer empires had been built partly on illegal labor contracts, bribed inspectors, manipulated port agreements, and extortion.
The original ledger exposed Vincent too.
“If it becomes public,” Maria said, “your father’s name is destroyed.”
Roman laughed without humor.
“He’s dead.”
“Your family isn’t.”
“I’m supposed to let Salvatore murder people because my father might look bad?”
“No.”
Maria shook her head.
“I’m warning you that Salvatore believes you will.”
Roman stared at her.
His uncle still believed family reputation mattered more to him than truth.
Maybe once it would have.
Before Claire.
Before the snow.
Before watching forty wealthy people celebrate while an employee froze outside.
Roman looked at Gabriel.
“Call federal investigators.”
Gabriel raised an eyebrow.
“All of it?”
“All of it.”
Maria stared.
“Roman—”
“Every account. Every ledger. Every company.”
“You could lose half your organization.”
“Then I lose it.”
Claire watched him differently.
Roman noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That wasn’t nothing.”
She looked away.
“I thought men like you protected the family name at any cost.”
“So did Salvatore.”
Roman walked toward the south doors.
“He made a mistake.”
They crossed through deep snow toward the boathouse.
The wind had weakened.
A black SUV sat nearby.
Engine running.
Gabriel raised a hand.
Everyone stopped.
The boathouse door opened.
Charles Mercer emerged carrying a leather ledger.
Salvatore followed.
And beside him—
Vivian.
Roman stared.
Vivian had escaped the guest wing.
Charles smiled.
“There he is.”
Roman stepped forward.
“It’s over.”
Charles laughed.
“Men like us don’t end because someone finds paperwork.”
Roman’s eyes moved to Salvatore.
His uncle looked almost sad.
“You should have stayed inside, Roman.”
“You should have left Claire alone.”
Salvatore’s expression hardened.
“She is staff.”
Claire flinched.
Roman’s voice dropped.
“She is a person.”
Salvatore laughed.
“Your father would be ashamed of what you’ve become.”
Roman stopped.
Then something unexpected happened.
He smiled.
“Good.”
Salvatore’s face changed.
Roman continued.
“He should be.”
Sirens sounded beyond the gates.
Charles looked toward the road.
“You called police?”
“Federal investigators.”
Charles’s confidence disappeared.
Salvatore stared at Roman.
“You would burn your own family?”
“No.”
Roman looked at the ledger.
“I’m stopping you from burning everyone else to keep it warm.”
Then Vivian suddenly grabbed the ledger from her father.
Charles shouted.
“What are you doing?”
Vivian ran toward Roman.
Salvatore moved.
A gun appeared in his hand.
Claire screamed.
Roman stepped in front of her.
May you like
The shot exploded across the snow.
And Vivian Mercer collapsed.
Related Stories
