Chapter 1
Roman did not immediately ask where his money had gone.
He looked at his daughter.
Sophie was buried inside his jacket, both tiny hands locked around his shirt as if loosening even one finger might make him disappear again.
Her body was too light.
That was the first thing he noticed.
The second was the smell of shoe polish on her hands.
Roman lowered himself slowly until they were eye level.
Sophie stared at him.
She touched his cheek.
Then his jaw.
Then his chest.
Her breathing came in short, frightened bursts.
“You’re warm.”
Roman’s throat tightened.
He covered her hand with his.
“I’m here.”
Behind them, nobody moved.
Helena had recovered enough to stand beside the overturned registration table.
One pearl earring was missing.
Her face burned red where Roman had struck her.
But arrogance had already begun returning to her posture.
Veronica stood several feet away.
She was pale.
Still.
Watching Roman instead of Sophie.
Roman noticed.
“Maria.”
A housekeeper appeared from the ballroom doors.
Her eyes were wet.
“Take Sophie upstairs. Food first. Doctor second.”
Sophie’s grip tightened.
“No.”
Roman looked down.
She shook her head violently.
“You’ll die again.”
Silence rolled across the entrance hall.
Roman closed his eyes for one second.
Then opened them.
“No one is taking me anywhere.”
Only then did Sophie release him.
Maria carried her upstairs.
Roman watched until she disappeared.
Then he turned.
The warmth left his face.
Helena lifted her chin.
“You’ve made enough of a scene.”
Roman stared at her.
His breath slowed.
“You told my daughter I was dead.”
“You disappeared for seven weeks.”
“I was in Sicily.”
“You were unreachable.”
“My security detail checked in every day.”
Helena’s fingers tightened around her rings.
“Not with me.”
Roman looked toward Adrian.
Adrian had pulled himself upright beneath the coats.
His breathing was heavy.
His lower lip was split.
Roman stepped toward him.
Adrian did not retreat.
“Who told the household I died?”
Nobody answered.
Roman waited.
He had built half his reputation on what happened when he stopped speaking.
Helena finally broke the silence.
“We received confirmation.”
“From who?”
She said nothing.
Roman’s eyes shifted toward Veronica.
His fiancée’s right hand was gripping her engagement ring so tightly her knuckles had gone white.
Roman noticed.
“What confirmation?”
Veronica swallowed.
Helena snapped:
“Enough.”
Roman turned back toward her.
That interruption answered more than Helena intended.
Roman walked to the registration desk debris.
Among the scattered guest cards was an envelope bearing the seal of his own legal office.
He picked it up.
Inside was a death notification bearing his attorney’s signature.
Roman read the bottom line.
Then looked toward Helena.
His voice became nearly inaudible.
“My attorney never signed this.”
Helena’s expression changed.
Roman looked again at the paper.
The signature was not merely forged.
The document also contained the number of an offshore account only three people knew existed.
Roman.
May you like
His attorney.
And Veronica.
