Chapter 16 - When Everything Fell Apart Again
The fire destroyed almost nothing important.
That was the first piece of good news.
Northline's employees had gone home.
Records were backed up.
The building's sprinkler system contained most of the flames to one floor.
The second piece of good news came from police.
Security footage showed a hooded man entering through a service door shortly before smoke appeared.
The bad news was everything else.
Marcus Vale had been released pending trial after his attorneys successfully argued he wasn't a flight risk.
Twenty-four hours later, Roman's office burned.
Coincidence did not feel convincing.
Roman returned to his old self for exactly twelve hours.
Calls.
Security teams.
Orders.
Private investigators.
His voice became clipped.
His face cold.
By morning, two black SUVs were parked outside my mother's house.
I opened the door and stared at them.
Then called him.
"Remove them."
"No."
One word.
Old Roman.
My chest tightened.
"Excuse me?"
"Savannah, this is different."
"Remove them."
"Marcus knows where you live."
"And you promised you wouldn't send security without asking."
"I made that promise before someone set my office on fire."
"Then call and ask."
Silence.
"What?"
"Call me and say, 'Savannah, I am afraid Marcus may target you or Evelyn. Would you be willing to have security outside?'"
"This is ridiculous."
"Then the answer is no."
His breathing changed.
I hated that we were here again.
"Savannah—"
"Do it."
Silence.
Then the line went dead.
Roman had hung up.
I stared at the phone.
Anger flooded me.
Ten minutes later, the SUVs remained.
I called Elena.
Before she answered, Roman called back.
I almost rejected it.
Then picked up.
"What?"
His voice was controlled.
"I'm sorry."
I said nothing.
"I panicked."
"Yes."
"May I start again?"
My anger eased one degree.
"Go ahead."
"Savannah, I believe there is a credible risk because Marcus knows your address and the fire may have been deliberate."
I waited.
"I am afraid something could happen to you or Evelyn."
His voice cracked slightly.
"Would you please allow a security team to remain outside temporarily? They will not enter the property, track you, or follow you unless you agree."
I closed my eyes.
"Yes."
Roman exhaled.
"Thank you."
"And next time?"
"I ask."
"Even if you're scared."
"Especially if I'm scared."
Good.
This was change.
Not never falling into old patterns.
Catching them.
Repairing them.
Roman came over that afternoon.
He looked exhausted.
I made coffee.
We sat while Evelyn played.
"I hated you for ten minutes," I said.
"Only ten?"
"Maybe eleven."
"Progress."
I smiled reluctantly.
"You scared me."
"I scared myself."
"Why?"
"Because it felt good."
I frowned.
"Controlling the situation."
His shame was visible.
"For a few minutes, I knew exactly what to do. Order security. Call everyone. Lock everything down."
"And?"
"It felt safe."
"But wasn't."
"No."
He watched Evelyn.
"I understand how easy it would be to become that man again whenever life scares me."
I touched his hand.
"Then keep noticing."
"That sounds exhausting."
"It is."
"Great."
The investigation moved quickly.
The arsonist was arrested two days later.
He wasn't Marcus.
He was a former subcontractor paid through a cryptocurrency transfer.
Agents traced the money.
Not to Marcus directly.
To an account controlled by his cousin.
Close enough for prosecutors to act.
Marcus was arrested again.
This time, bail was revoked.
When Roman heard, he didn't celebrate.
He sat in silence.
"I loved him like a brother," he said.
"I know."
"I told him everything."
"I know."
"He watched me destroy my marriage and used it."
"Yes."
Roman looked at me.
"Part of me wants to ruin him."
"I believe you."
"I could."
"Probably."
"Make sure he never works again. Buy his debts. Drag the trial through every newspaper."
"Would that help?"
"No."
That answer made me proud.
Roman testified months later.
Facts only.
No theatrics.
Marcus eventually pleaded guilty to fraud, embezzlement, identity theft, and conspiracy related to the fire.
He received prison time.
The chapter closed.
But the bigger test came before sentencing.
In early December, Carter Holdings faced a hostile takeover offer.
A giant New York firm offered shareholders a huge premium.
Julia wanted to resist.
The board split.
Roman still held significant shares.
So did I.
Together, our votes could decide the outcome.
Everyone expected Roman to fight.
Carter Holdings bore his name.
His father's name.
His identity.
He came to my house carrying documents.
I smiled.
"Corporate homework?"
"Unfortunately."
We spread papers across the kitchen table.
He explained both options.
Sell.
Or remain independent.
"What do you want?" I asked.
He looked tired.
"Two years ago?"
"Fight."
"Until?"
"Everyone else surrendered."
"And now?"
Roman stared at the company logo.
"I think Julia can build something better without the Carter family controlling it."
I blinked.
"You want to sell?"
"My personal shares, yes."
"What about mine?"
"Your choice."
I laughed.
"You really learned."
"Painfully."
I reviewed everything with Elena.
Then voted to remain independent.
Roman voted to sell.
For the first time, we were on opposite sides of a major decision.
And nothing happened.
He didn't pressure me.
I didn't interpret disagreement as rejection.
The final vote narrowly favored remaining independent.
Roman lost.
At dinner that night, he toasted Julia.
I watched him.
"You okay?"
"Yes."
"You lost."
"I noticed."
"And?"
He shrugged.
"The world continues."
I smiled.
Arthur Carter would have hated him.
That might have been the greatest compliment possible.
A week later, Roman asked me to dinner.
Not co-parenting dinner.
Not coffee.
A date.
He stood on my porch looking more nervous than he had at our wedding.
"Are you asking because Christmas is coming?"
"No."
"Because we kissed?"
"Partially."
"Because you're lonely?"
"No."
"How do you know?"
"Therapy."
I laughed.
"Where?"
"Somewhere you choose."
I considered.
"Pizza."
Roman blinked.
"Pizza."
"Normal-person pizza."
"I eat pizza."
"You use a fork."
"That's civilized."
"Exactly the problem."
He sighed.
"Fine."
We went to a crowded neighborhood restaurant.
No private room.
No driver.
No expensive bottle.
Roman ate pizza with his hands.
I took a photograph.
"Delete that."
"Never."
We talked for three hours.
Not about Claire.
Not the divorce.
Not Arthur.
We talked about movies.
Evelyn.
My foundation.
Northline.
A vacation neither of us had taken.
I remembered why I had fallen in love with him before money, marriage, and fear made everything heavy.
At the end, Roman walked me to my car.
"Can I kiss you?"
"Yes."
He did.
Then stopped.
"What?" I asked.
"I want to ask you something."
My heart jumped.
"If you propose in a parking lot, I'll run."
He laughed.
"No."
"Good."
His expression became serious.
"Christmas Eve is in ten days."
I stiffened slightly.
"I know."
"I don't want to pretend it isn't hard."
"Me either."
"I want to spend it with Evelyn."
"Of course."
"And you."
I looked at him.
"As what?"
"I don't know."
That answer was perfect.
He continued.
"Whatever we're becoming."
My eyes filled.
"Okay."
Roman smiled.
Then his phone rang.
He checked the screen.
Marianne.
He answered.
His face changed immediately.
"Mom?"
I had never heard him call her that.
He listened.
Then looked at me.
"What happened?" I whispered.
Roman lowered the phone.
"She's in Chicago."
"Why?"
"She says she has something that belonged to my mother—my grandmother, I mean."
He looked stunned.
"Something my father kept from me."
"What?"
Roman swallowed.
"A deed."
My stomach sank.
"To what?"
He stared at me.
"Your mother's house."
May you like
And suddenly the one place I believed Arthur Carter had never touched was connected to him too.
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