Chapter 4 - THE KEY HIDDEN IN PLAIN SIGHT
Harper did not sleep that night.
She sat at the kitchen island in Roman's penthouse, drinking coffee that tasted suspiciously like it had been prepared by someone who considered caffeine a military operation.
Roman had retreated to his study after admitting that he had watched Harper's mother bury something in Boston eleven years earlier.
He had not explained why.
Harper intended to make him explain everything.
At 7:30 a.m., she walked into his study without knocking.
Roman was standing before a wall of security monitors, speaking to a man whose face appeared on a video call.
“Find the source of the leak,” Roman said. “And don't contact anyone connected to Sloane until I authorize it.”
He ended the call when he saw her.
“You need to rest.”
“You need a dictionary. Specifically, the definition of honesty.”
“Harper—”
“Did my mother bury something in Boston?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“A key.”
“To what?”
“I don't know.”
She folded her arms.
“You watched her bury a key and never investigated what it opened?”
“I investigated. The location was searched. Nothing was found.”
“Then either you searched the wrong place or someone got there first.”
Roman looked at her with an expression that suggested he was beginning to regret hiring a woman who could think.
“Your mother chose a location near an old church in Beacon Hill. I went there three days after she disappeared.”
“And?”
“The grave had been disturbed.”
Harper went still.
“You thought she was buried there?”
“I thought she'd hidden the key in a place no one would look. The ground had been dug up, but there was nothing left.”
“Did you ever tell the police?”
“No.”
“Of course not.”
“Harper, my father controlled the people who were supposed to investigate him. Going to the police would have gotten more people killed.”
“And keeping quiet protected whom?”
He didn't answer.
She turned away before her anger could turn into tears.
At nine, Harper demanded her purse, her laptop, and permission to leave the penthouse.
Roman refused.
At nine fifteen, she informed him that he could either let her leave voluntarily or explain to his security team why they were physically restraining a woman in pajamas.
At nine twenty, Roman handed her a coat.
“I'm coming with you.”
“That's not what I asked.”
May you like
“It's what you're getting.”
They drove to Harper's apartment under heavy security. The hallway smelled of plaster dust and wet concrete. Her front
