Chapter 6 - The Message Roman Never Explained
Roman did not sleep.
Serena knew because she did not sleep either.
At three in the morning she found him downstairs, alone in the kitchen.
Roman Duca, feared by half the city, was making coffee badly.
She leaned against the doorway.
“You put too much in.”
He looked at the machine.
“I followed the instructions.”
“You ignored the measurements.”
“I estimated.”
“That is why normal people use measurements.”
Roman stared at the overflowing coffee.
For some reason, Serena laughed.
It escaped before she could stop it.
Roman looked at her.
Then, impossibly, he laughed too.
Quietly.
It lasted only a second.
But for that second they were not Roman Duca and his unhappy wife.
They were simply two exhausted people standing in a kitchen at three in the morning while the coffee machine lost a war.
Serena approached.
“Move.”
He stepped aside.
She fixed it.
Roman watched.
“You’re still leaving.”
It was not a question.
Serena kept her attention on the coffee.
“I don’t know.”
“I saw the suitcase.”
“I was angry.”
“You had reasons.”
She glanced at him.
He seemed different tonight.
Not softer exactly.
Less armored.
“Tell me about Adrian Vale.”
Roman’s face closed slightly.
Serena saw it happen.
“There. That.”
“What?”
“That door.”
He frowned.
“The second I ask something difficult, you disappear behind it.”
Roman considered arguing.
Then stopped.
“Adrian’s father worked with mine.”
“Doing what?”
“Managing transportation.”
“Legal transportation?”
“Sometimes.”
Serena poured two coffees.
Roman continued.
“My father accused him of stealing.”
“Was he?”
“I don’t know.”
“And what happened?”
“He disappeared.”
Serena froze.
“Roman.”
“I was twenty-one.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“I know.”
Roman looked at his coffee.
“My father told everyone Vincent Vale had taken money and fled the country.”
“And you believed him?”
“At the time.”
“But now?”
“Years later I found records suggesting Vincent had been set up.”
Serena’s stomach tightened.
“By your father?”
“Probably.”
“And Adrian blamed your family.”
“He blamed me too.”
“Why?”
“Because I inherited everything.”
Roman walked toward the large windows overlooking the garden.
“At twenty-four, Adrian tried to destroy several Duca businesses. At twenty-six, he disappeared after a warehouse fire overseas.”
“You thought he died.”
“Yes.”
“Did you cause the fire?”
Roman looked back.
“No.”
She believed him.
Maybe that was foolish.
Maybe six years of marriage gave her more certainty than logic did.
“What does he want?”
“Revenge.”
“Against you.”
“Yes.”
“And now me.”
Roman’s silence answered.
Serena wrapped both hands around her mug.
“Is that why you’ve always been so careful in public?”
“Partly.”
“Partly?”
Roman sighed.
“There have been threats before.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
“That means a lot.”
“Yes.”
“Against me?”
“Several.”
Serena nearly dropped the cup.
“You never told me?”
“They were intercepted.”
“That is not the point.”
“They never got close.”
“Roman.”
His eyes hardened with old instinct.
“What would telling you have changed?”
“My ability to make decisions about my own life.”
That silenced him.
Serena stepped closer.
“You keep calling secrecy protection. But every time you hide something from me, you decide that you are smarter, stronger, and more entitled to control my life than I am.”
“I never thought you were weak.”
“Then stop treating me like weakness.”
Roman looked at her for a long moment.
“All right.”
Again, that unexpected answer.
Serena studied him.
“You keep agreeing with me tonight. It’s suspicious.”
“I’m experimenting with marriage.”
Despite everything, she almost smiled.
Then Roman’s phone vibrated.
He checked it.
Marcus.
Roman answered.
“What?”
He listened.
His face changed.
“Where?”
A pause.
“Don’t approach him. I’m coming.”
He hung up.
Serena put down her mug.
“What happened?”
“Possible sighting.”
“Adrian?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Roman hesitated.
She raised one eyebrow.
He corrected himself.
“St. Matthew’s Church.”
Serena stared.
“Why there?”
Roman’s expression became unreadable.
“My father is buried behind it.”
Within minutes, Roman was preparing to leave.
Serena followed him into the foyer.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
She laughed.
He caught himself.
“I would rather you stay.”
“And I would rather know what is happening.”
“It could be dangerous.”
“So could sitting beside a window, apparently.”
Roman had no response.
Marcus entered.
“Cars are ready.”
Roman looked between Serena and Marcus.
Marcus shrugged.
“I’m not entering this.”
Coward, Serena thought.
Roman finally said, “You stay in the armored vehicle.”
“We negotiate.”
“You stay in the vehicle unless I tell you otherwise.”
“Roman.”
“Serena.”
They stared at each other.
She sighed.
“Fine.”
Twenty-five minutes later, their convoy reached St. Matthew’s.
The church sat on the oldest hill in the city, surrounded by stone walls and centuries-old trees.
Roman exited first.
Serena remained inside.
For approximately forty seconds.
Then she opened the door.
Marcus groaned.
“Mrs. Duca.”
“I renegotiated.”
“Roman will murder me.”
“He apparently doesn’t do that anymore.”
“That is not as reassuring as you think.”
Serena walked toward the cemetery.
Roman stood beside his father’s grave.
No Adrian.
Only an envelope resting against the headstone.
Roman opened it.
Inside was another photograph.
This one showed Serena.
Not recently.
Six years earlier.
On her wedding day.
Roman went white.
Serena moved beside him.
“What?”
He handed it to her.
On the back were two dates.
Their wedding date.
And tomorrow’s date.
Beneath them:
You had six years with her. That is more than my father had with us.
Serena looked at Roman.
The fear she saw in his face was not controlled anymore.
It was raw.
For six years, Roman had believed loving her quietly could keep her safe.
May you like
Adrian Vale had just proved he had been watching from the beginning.
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