Chapter 4 - THE EMPIRE UNDER HIS FEET
Flight 409 landed in Omaha shortly after midnight.
Christmas morning.
Police removed the attacker in handcuffs.
Roman should have been arrested too.
He wasn’t.
Norah did not ask why.
Some habits of power survived even thirty thousand feet in the air.
They entered a private airline lounge while the airport struggled with hundreds of stranded passengers.
Roman carried Luca.
It had happened accidentally.
Norah needed both hands to reorganize the diaper bag, and Roman simply took him.
Now he refused to give him back.
“You’re holding him like a football.”
“I have never held a baby.”
“I noticed.”
Roman adjusted Luca awkwardly.
“Better?”
“Marginally.”
Luca yawned.
Roman stared at him as if he had performed magic.
Norah’s heart betrayed her with an unwanted ache.
This was the Roman she once believed existed beneath everything else.
The man who remembered how she took her coffee.
The man who once drove six hours because she casually mentioned missing a bakery from her hometown.
The man who could be impossibly gentle.
Then his phone rang.
And the softness vanished.
Carlo had discovered the truth.
Vincent had spent seven years building a second organization inside Roman’s.
Warehouses.
Offshore accounts.
Corrupt officers.
Politicians.
Roman’s own men.
The Denver shooting had been staged to lure Roman away from New York.
His lieutenant Matteo had not been attacked by an Irish crew.
Vincent’s men had shot him.
“Why?”
Norah asked.
Roman stared through the lounge windows.
“Because I was going legitimate.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“I started eighteen months ago.”
Before Norah disappeared, Roman had quietly begun selling criminal assets and converting the family’s holdings into legitimate logistics, construction, and real estate companies.
He had told almost nobody.
Not even Norah.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted to finish first.”
“Roman, that’s your problem.”
“What?”
“You always think love means presenting someone with a finished solution.”
He frowned.
“I don’t understand.”
“You never let me stand beside you while things were messy. You hid everything until you could say, ‘I fixed it.’”
“I was protecting you.”
“You were excluding me.”
Roman looked down at Luca.
For once, he had no argument.
Ward entered carrying coffee.
“Vincent’s moving.”
Roman stood.
Ward placed a tablet on the table.
News reports showed federal agents raiding several businesses publicly associated with Roman DeLuca.
Roman’s name filled television screens.
Authorities had received documents connecting him to narcotics shipments, bribery, and several murders.
Vincent was framing him.
“If they arrest you,” Ward said, “Vincent takes everything.”
Norah frowned.
“How?”
“Roman’s corporate succession documents.”
Roman looked at him.
Ward continued.
“If Roman becomes incapacitated or imprisoned, operational control transfers temporarily to his longest-serving executive officer.”
“Vincent.”
Roman’s voice was flat.
Ward nodded.
Roman picked up his phone.
Norah grabbed his wrist.
“No.”
His eyes met hers.
“No what?”
“No war.”
“This isn’t your decision.”
“The moment our children became targets, it became my decision.”
Roman stared at her.
“You’re going to call men. Vincent will call men. People will die. Then somebody’s brother retaliates. Somebody’s son wants revenge. Twenty years from now, Luca is holding a gun because you taught him that’s how DeLucas solve problems.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“You expect me to do nothing?”
“I expect you to do something different.”
The challenge hung between them.
Roman slowly lowered the phone.
“What?”
“Expose him.”
Ward laughed.
“Lady, Vincent owns cops.”
“Then go bigger.”
Norah pointed toward the television.
“He wants Roman blamed publicly? Fine. Fight publicly.”
Roman studied her.
She had changed.
The woman who once flinched whenever his men entered the penthouse now looked ready to dismantle one of them herself.
“What do you need?”
Roman asked.
Norah thought.
“Proof.”
Ward nodded slowly.
“There may be some.”
Claire had kept records.
Before her death, she had told Ward she possessed evidence about Vincent.
Norah stared.
“You knew Claire?”
“She hired me.”
Ward had not been protecting Norah for Vincent.
Not anymore.
Claire had discovered Vincent’s payments and secretly hired Ward to investigate.
The morning Claire died, she sent Ward one message.
If anything happens to me, the angel knows.
Norah frowned.
“The angel?”
Then her face changed.
Christmas.
Claire had given the twins a handmade wooden angel before she died.
Norah carried it everywhere.
She tore open the diaper bag.
Clothes.
Formula.
Diapers.
Blankets.
At the bottom lay the wooden angel.
Roman took it.
The base felt unusually heavy.
He twisted it.
A hidden compartment opened.
Inside was a microSD card.
Ward stared.
“That’s it.”
Norah began crying.
Claire had died protecting her.
Roman inserted the card into Ward’s laptop.
Folders appeared.
Bank transfers.
Shipping manifests.
Recorded conversations.
Photographs.
Everything.
Enough to destroy Vincent.
Then Roman opened the final video.
Claire appeared onscreen.
She looked exhausted.
“If you’re watching this, something happened to me.”
Norah covered her mouth.
Claire continued.
“Norah, I’m sorry. There’s one more thing you need to know.”
The video flickered.
“Vincent wasn’t the person who discovered your pregnancy first.”
Roman leaned closer.
Claire looked directly into the camera.
“Someone inside Roman’s home told him.”
The screen went black.
Roman and Norah stared at each other.
Only four people had known Norah took the pregnancy test.
Norah.
Claire.
May you like
Roman’s housekeeper.
And Roman’s mother.
