Chapter 6 - The Fiancée Who Knew Too Much
Preston wanted to call police.
Roman stopped him.
“Charles has been ahead of law enforcement for months.”
“He has my fiancée.”
Alex looked at him.
The word hurt less than she expected.
Fiancée.
Three years erased by one noun.
Roman noticed her expression but said nothing.
“Where would he take her?” Alex asked.
Preston paced.
“I don’t know.”
“You know him.”
“I know the version he wanted me to know.”
Alex laughed bitterly.
“Welcome to the club.”
Preston flinched.
He deserved that.
But there was no time to enjoy it.
Sabrina’s photograph contained almost nothing.
Dark leather.
Car window.
Charles.
A reflected streetlight.
Alex enlarged the image.
Roman stood behind her.
“What?”
“The reflection.”
A red neon curve appeared in the window.
Daniel studied it.
“Could be anything.”
Alex rotated the photograph.
Letters became visible.
…ORIA
Preston suddenly stopped.
“The Astoria Boathouse.”
Roman looked at him.
“Why?”
“Charles owns an old warehouse near there through Kensington Development.”
Twenty minutes later, they were moving toward Queens.
Roman refused to let Alex come.
Alex ignored him.
“You’re staying in the vehicle.”
“No.”
“Alex.”
“Roman.”
Daniel muttered, “This is becoming predictable.”
The warehouse sat beside the river.
Dark.
Abandoned.
Roman’s men entered first.
They found Sabrina upstairs.
Alive.
Alone.
She sat tied to a chair beneath a hanging industrial light.
Alex rushed forward.
Sabrina recoiled when she saw her.
“You.”
Alex stopped.
“Yes. Unfortunately.”
Roman cut the restraints.
Sabrina immediately looked for Preston.
When she saw him, relief broke across her face.
Then shame.
“I’m sorry.”
Preston knelt.
“Did he hurt you?”
“No.”
“Where is your father?”
“Gone.”
Roman looked around.
“Too easy.”
Alex agreed.
Then Sabrina began laughing.
Everyone turned.
It wasn’t amusement.
It was shock.
“You still don’t understand.”
“Understand what?” Alex asked.
Sabrina looked directly at her.
“My father didn’t start this.”
Silence.
“He inherited it.”
“From whom?”
Sabrina’s gaze moved to Preston.
Preston went pale.
“No.”
Alex looked between them.
“What?”
Sabrina whispered:
“Your father.”
Preston stood.
“My father died nine years ago.”
“Yes.”
“After a heart attack.”
“No.”
Sabrina began crying.
“He was moving stolen antiquities before my father ever joined the scheme.”
Preston shook his head.
“You’re lying.”
“I found the ledgers.”
She looked at Alex.
“Your forged appraisals were based on old templates.”
“Whose?”
Sabrina swallowed.
“Your father’s.”
Alex froze.
Her father, Thomas Carter, had been an art historian.
He died when she was sixteen.
A car accident.
“He never worked for Kensington.”
“Not officially.”
Alex felt Roman’s hand near her back but not touching.
Giving her the choice.
Sabrina continued.
“Thomas Carter discovered the network. Preston’s father was running it. Your father gathered evidence.”
Alex could barely breathe.
“What happened?”
“He threatened to expose them.”
The room seemed to shrink.
Roman asked quietly:
“And then?”
Sabrina looked at Alex.
“His car went off a bridge.”
Alex stopped hearing anything.
For twenty years, she had believed rain caused the accident.
Police said the tires lost traction.
Her mother had never recovered.
Now—
“No.”
Roman finally touched her.
One hand around hers.
Solid.
Warm.
Sabrina whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Preston looked destroyed.
“My father killed hers?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you suspect it.”
“Yes.”
Preston walked away.
For the first time, Alex saw him without arrogance.
Just a son confronting the possibility that everything he admired had been rotten.
Roman asked Sabrina about the ledgers.
She told them Charles kept digital copies on a private server at his Manhattan office.
“The files prove everything. The original network. The new transfers. The murders they covered.”
“Murders?” Alex whispered.
“Arthur Levin wasn’t the only one.”
Roman’s expression darkened.
Sabrina looked at him.
“And neither was your father.”
Roman froze.
Alex turned.
“What?”
Roman said nothing.
Sabrina continued.
“Giovanni Costa didn’t die from an aneurysm.”
Roman released Alex’s hand.
His face became terrifyingly calm.
“My father died at his desk.”
“He was poisoned.”
Roman stared at her.
“How do you know?”
“Because my father ordered it.”
Nobody moved.
Sabrina’s next words changed everything.
“He discovered Giovanni Costa was secretly cooperating with federal investigators.”
Roman looked as though someone had struck him.
For years, Giovanni Costa had been remembered as the ruthless patriarch of a criminal dynasty.
But secretly?
He had been trying to dismantle it.
Alex understood why Roman’s companies had become increasingly legitimate after his father’s death.
Maybe Roman had been finishing something no one knew Giovanni had begun.
A sound came from downstairs.
Daniel touched his earpiece.
Then swore.
“Fire.”
Smoke began rising through the stairwell.
Roman grabbed Alex.
“Move!”
Flames erupted beneath them.
The warehouse had been rigged.
They ran toward the rear windows.
No exit.
River below.
Roman smashed the glass with a chair.
Cold December wind tore inside.
Alex stared three stories down.
“You cannot be serious.”
Roman looked at the burning doorway.
Then at the water.
“Do you trust me?”
She almost laughed.
“Still no.”
“Good.”
He wrapped one arm around her waist.
Alex realized what he intended.
“Roman—”
“Hold your breath.”
They jumped.
May you like
The East River swallowed them whole.
And beneath the black freezing water, Roman’s hand never let hers go.
