Chapter 5 - Roman Cancels Christmas
Roman DeLuca did not celebrate Christmas that year.
He declared war instead.
Not with guns.
Not with bodies.
Not with the kind of violence people whispered his family was capable of.
Roman's war began with phones.
Lawyers.
Bank investigators.
Accountants.
Private servers.
And one sentence delivered to Howard Mercer at eight-thirty Christmas night.
“The engagement is over.”
I wasn't in the room when he said it.
Mrs. Patel was.
She told me later that Vivian stared at Roman for nearly ten seconds as if she honestly believed she had misunderstood English.
Howard didn't.
He stood immediately.
“This is emotional.”
Roman remained seated.
“No.”
“Something unfortunate happened to an employee and you're allowing fear to—”
“Your man was waiting outside for her.”
“You don't know that.”
“Daniel Voss's vehicle contained photographs of Claire and her sister.”
Howard's jaw tightened.
“That proves nothing.”
Roman placed the forged asset-transfer documents on the table.
“This does.”
Vivian went pale.
Howard barely glanced down.
“Those aren't mine.”
“They were hidden on my property.”
“Then perhaps you should question your employees.”
“I did.”
Roman looked toward Vivian.
“One of them nearly died.”
Vivian finally spoke.
“You think I wanted Claire dead?”
Roman's voice changed.
“I think you wanted her outside.”
“I wanted wine.”
“Stop saying that.”
She flinched.
Roman rarely raised his voice.
He didn't then.
Which somehow made it worse.
“You knew the Bellamy was already inside,” he continued. “You attended the tasting. You approved the menu.”
Vivian stared at him.
“You're choosing a maid over your future wife.”
Roman stood.
“No. I'm choosing the truth over someone who lied to my face.”
Upstairs, I knew none of that yet.
I was speaking to Lily.
She had been moved temporarily to a DeLuca-owned apartment with security.
She hated every second.
“This is insane.”
“I know.”
“There are two enormous men outside my door.”
“They're security.”
“One of them inspected my cereal box.”
I almost laughed.
“Let him.”
“Claire.”
Her voice changed.
“You're scared.”
I looked toward the window.
“I'm okay.”
“That's not what I said.”
Little sisters are dangerous because they remember who you were before you learned how to lie politely.
“Yes,” I said. “I'm scared.”
“What aren't you telling me?”
Everything, I thought.
Dad.
Mercer.
The notebook.
The photograph.
“Dad may have known the Mercer family.”
Silence.
“What?”
“I found some old records.”
“What kind?”
“Business.”
“Dad didn't have a business.”
“Apparently he did.”
Lily went quiet.
Then she said something that stopped me.
“I saw that name once.”
“What name?”
“Mercer.”
I stood.
“Where?”
“In Dad's hospital room.”
“What?”
The day before he died, Lily had visited him.
She was sixteen then.
I had been working.
A man came to see Dad.
Tall.
Gray coat.
Dad became angry.
Lily heard them arguing before a nurse asked her to wait outside.
“One of them said Mercer,” she told me.
“One of who?”
“The man. He said, ‘Mr. Mercer isn't asking twice.’”
My stomach dropped.
“Why didn't you ever tell me?”
“I thought it was about the loan.”
Maybe it was.
Maybe it wasn't.
“Did you see his face?”
“Yes.”
“Would you recognize him?”
“I think so.”
I immediately called Roman.
He came upstairs less than five minutes later.
When I told him, he put Lily on speaker.
Marco brought up photographs of known Mercer employees from eight years earlier.
Lily rejected six.
Seven.
Eight.
Then she stopped.
“That one.”
Marco enlarged it.
A younger Daniel Voss.
The same man from the carriage house.
Roman looked at me.
Daniel hadn't merely started following us recently.
He had visited my father before his death.
“What exactly did he say?” Roman asked.
Lily repeated it.
Roman's expression tightened.
Then he asked the question none of us wanted to ask.
“What did your father say back?”
Lily hesitated.
“He said… ‘Tell Howard the girl doesn't know anything.’”
I felt the floor disappear beneath me.
“What girl?”
“I thought he meant me.”
I couldn't breathe.
Roman moved closer.
“Claire.”
But Lily continued.
“There was something else.”
I forced myself to focus.
“What?”
“Dad said, ‘If you touch either of my daughters, everything goes public.’”
The room became silent.
Roman took the phone from me.
“Lily, listen carefully. Do not leave that apartment.”
“Okay.”
“Don't open the door for anyone except Marco's people.”
“Okay.”
“I mean anyone.”
“I understand.”
He ended the call.
I stared at him.
“Dad knew they were threatening us.”
“Yes.”
“And he didn't tell me.”
“He was trying to protect you.”
“He died trying to protect me.”
Roman didn't answer.
A knock interrupted us.
Marco entered carrying a laptop.
“You need to see this.”
His investigators had checked every digital access point used during the Christmas Eve party.
At 9:14 p.m., someone had entered the house's internal network.
At 9:16, that person opened Claire Bennett's personnel file.
At 9:18, they accessed the south-lawn security camera system.
At 9:21—
Three cameras went offline.
Exactly seven minutes before Vivian sent me outside.
“Who disabled them?” Roman asked.
Marco hesitated.
“That is the problem.”
“Who?”
“The command came from inside your private office.”
Roman stared at him.
“My office was locked.”
“Someone had access.”
“Who?”
Marco turned the laptop.
The electronic lock recorded every authorized entry.
Only four people had permission.
Roman.
Marco.
Mrs. Patel.
And Roman's younger cousin and chief financial officer—
Adrian DeLuca.
Roman's oldest friend.
The man responsible for managing the same companies Howard Mercer was attempting to steal.
May you like
For the first time, the threat was no longer standing outside DeLuca House. It was already inside Roman's family.
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