Chapter 8 - THE PRICE OF A MOTHER
Everyone expected me to sign.
The lawyers.
The security team.
Even Gregory, when investigators allowed him to speak with me.
“It’s land,” he said. “Mom is Mom.”
I stared at him through the glass partition.
“Funny.”
“What?”
“You didn’t think family mattered when Hale threatened me.”
He closed his eyes.
“I deserve that.”
“Yes.”
But he was also right about one thing.
Forty million dollars of land was nothing compared with a human life.
Even my mother’s.
Even after everything.
I returned to Roman’s estate.
The transfer documents waited on the library table.
Roman stood at the window.
“You think I shouldn’t do it.”
“I think Hale won’t release her.”
“Why?”
“Because Cynthia can testify about Anthony.”
My stomach dropped.
“So signing changes nothing.”
“It gives Hale what he wants and removes his reason to keep her alive.”
I sat down.
“What am I supposed to do?”
Roman approached.
“We make him believe you’re signing.”
The plan was dangerous.
Which was precisely why Hale believed it.
At eleven thirty, I arrived at an unfinished waterfront tower with Roman’s attorney and the trust documents.
Roman was nowhere visible.
That was deliberate.
Victor Hale waited on the twenty-second floor.
He was nothing like I imagined.
No tattoos.
No giant bodyguards.
No theatrical cruelty.
He looked like someone’s wealthy grandfather.
Gray hair.
Cashmere coat.
Polished shoes.
My mother sat in a chair nearby, wrists bound.
Her eyes filled when she saw me.
“Sadie, no.”
Hale smiled.
“Families become very loving when property is involved.”
I placed the documents on a construction table.
“Let her go.”
“Sign first.”
“You’ll kill her afterward.”
His smile widened.
“Roman has taught you suspicion.”
“No. My father did.”
Something flashed in Hale’s eyes.
I opened the folder.
“Where is Thomas?”
“Far away.”
“You helped him escape.”
“Thomas has always been useful.”
“You mean easy to control.”
Hale chuckled.
“You really are Anthony’s daughter.”
My heart twisted.
“You knew him?”
“Very well.”
“Did Thomas kill him?”
Mom started crying.
Hale looked toward her.
Then back at me.
“Thomas loosened the lift mechanism.”
My hand tightened around the pen.
“On your orders?”
“No.”
That surprised me.
Hale stepped closer.
“Your father discovered Thomas was stealing. Thomas panicked.”
“Then why did you cover it up?”
“Because Thomas owed me afterward.”
I understood.
Hale had turned murder into leverage.
For twenty-four years.
“You’re disgusting.”
“I’m practical.”
“So was Thomas.”
Hale’s smile disappeared.
I signed the first page.
Then the second.
My mother shook her head.
“Don’t.”
Hale leaned closer.
“Third page.”
I signed.
“Now let her go.”
“Finish.”
“I want proof my brother’s kidnapping records and the Harbor North accounts are destroyed.”
“They already are.”
“Then you won’t mind saying exactly what they contained.”
His eyes narrowed.
I needed him talking.
Roman needed time.
A tiny transmitter was hidden beneath my collar.
Hale looked at the documents.
Then at me.
“You’re stalling.”
My heartbeat jumped.
He reached toward my neck.
I stepped back.
Too late.
He ripped the transmitter free.
Everything exploded.
Hale grabbed me.
My mother screamed.
A gun pressed against my ribs.
“Tell Costa to come out!”
Silence.
Hale dragged me toward the open concrete edge of the unfinished floor.
Wind tore through the building.
Twenty-two stories below, black water reflected city lights.
“Roman!”
A shadow moved.
Roman stepped from behind a support column.
His hands were empty.
“Let her go.”
Hale laughed.
“The great Roman Costa.”
Roman’s eyes never left mine.
“You okay, Sadie?”
I nodded.
Hale shoved the gun harder against me.
“You should be asking whether you’re okay.”
Roman ignored him.
“Sadie.”
His voice was calm.
“Remember what I told you.”
I knew.
Choice.
Always choice.
I looked at Roman’s left hand.
Two fingers moved.
Now.
I dropped.
Gunfire cracked.
Roman lunged.
Security poured from both stairwells.
Hale fired wildly.
Roman tackled him.
The gun slid across the concrete.
I crawled toward Mom.
Then Hale produced a second weapon.
“Roman!”
Roman turned.
A shot exploded.
He jerked backward.
My scream tore through the building.
Security fired.
Hale collapsed.
I ran to Roman.
Blood spread across his shirt.
“No. No, no, no.”
He looked at me.
“Sadie.”
“Don’t talk.”
His hand found mine.
“I’m okay.”
“You’ve been shot!”
“I’ve had worse dates.”
I started laughing and sobbing simultaneously.
“Idiot.”
His eyes fluttered.
“Roman.”
Paramedics rushed onto the floor.
They pulled me away.
For the second time in my life, I watched somebody carrying Costa blood disappear from me because of Thomas Miller’s choices.
Only this time I refused to stand helplessly.
I climbed into the ambulance.
At the hospital, surgeons worked for three hours.
Mom sat beside me.
Neither of us spoke.
At 4:18 a.m., a surgeon entered.
“Ms. Miller?”
I stood.
“Costa,” I whispered.
He looked confused.
“My name is Sadie Costa.”
The doctor nodded.
“Mr. Costa is alive.”
My knees nearly gave out.
“The bullet missed his heart by less than an inch.”
I covered my mouth.
“He’s stable.”
Mom started crying.
I closed my eyes.
For the first time in days, the tears that came were relief.
Then three federal agents entered the waiting room.
One approached me.
“Ms. Costa?”
“Yes?”
“We found Thomas Miller.”
My eyes opened.
“Where?”
The agent’s expression was grim.
“At the airport.”
“Trying to leave?”
“No.”
He handed me a photograph.
My father had been found near a private terminal.
He had a passport.
Cash.
And a one-way ticket.
May you like
But the name on the ticket wasn’t his.
It was mine.
