Chapter 14 - Damian’s Impossible Choice
I wore black.
Roman could live with disappointment.
Damian looked at me when I stepped from the guest room.
“No red.”
“Apparently I have authority issues.”
“I had noticed.”
He was wearing the same style black suit he had worn the first night.
Only now I understood the man inside it differently.
The Harbor Crown ballroom had been closed for a “private corporate negotiation.”
No orchestra.
No politicians.
No five hundred guests.
Only a long table beneath the chandeliers.
Roman Cross waited at the far end.
He looked remarkably like Damian.
Same dark eyes.
Same controlled posture.
But his smile had none of Damian’s restraint.
Julian sat on one side.
Anthony on the other.
Mercer stood near the windows with two men.
That surprised Roman.
His smile faded.
“Samuel.”
Mercer looked almost bored.
“You’ve been using my routes.”
Roman shrugged.
“You benefited.”
“You blamed me for Michael.”
“Damian wanted someone to blame.”
Damian went perfectly still.
Roman smiled at him.
“There. The truth you’ve spent eight years chasing.”
“You killed him?”
“No.”
“Did you order it?”
Roman tilted his head.
“Michael gave me a choice.”
“What choice?”
“He wanted me to confess.”
“To the family?”
“To you.”
Damian’s expression remained calm.
“What happened?”
“He confronted me at Warehouse 17. He threatened to turn everything over to federal investigators.”
My heart tightened.
Roman continued.
“He should have walked away.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No.”
“Did you kill him?”
Roman’s smile disappeared.
“I left him there.”
Damian stopped breathing.
The exact language from the hidden message.
Who really left Michael Cross to die.
“He was alive?” I whispered.
Roman looked at me.
“Yes.”
Damian took one step forward.
I grabbed his hand.
He didn’t seem to feel it.
“You left my brother injured in a burning warehouse?”
“I didn’t start the fire.”
“You left him.”
“He chose you over me.”
The simplicity of Roman’s resentment was horrifying.
Not billions.
Not routes.
Not power.
At the center was jealousy.
Three boys.
Two brothers.
One cousin who believed he had been pushed aside.
Michael had discovered Roman had restarted Alexander Cross’s trafficking operation using Mercer’s network.
He confronted him.
They fought.
Michael was badly injured.
Roman walked away.
Someone else later started the warehouse fire to erase evidence.
Nicholas Arden, then working security at the port, found Michael outside but too late to save him.
Before dying, Michael gave him the key.
Damian’s voice was almost unrecognizable.
“You watched him suffer?”
Roman said nothing.
That was enough.
Damian moved.
Anthony stepped forward.
So did Mercer.
But I didn’t release Damian’s hand.
“Look at me.”
He didn’t.
“Damian.”
Finally, his eyes found mine.
“You said you wanted this to end differently.”
His breathing slowed.
Roman laughed.
“She’s made you weak.”
Damian looked at him.
“No.”
His voice became steady.
“She reminded me weakness and mercy aren’t the same thing.”
For the first time, Roman looked uncertain.
Julian placed a folder on the table.
“You’re finished.”
Roman smiled.
“You think paperwork stops me?”
“No.”
Julian tapped his phone.
“But Sophie’s statement, the kidnapping arrests, your financial records, Michael’s evidence, the ledger, and Samuel’s testimony might.”
Mercer raised an eyebrow.
Roman stared at him.
“You’d testify?”
“I dislike being framed.”
Sirens sounded outside.
Roman looked toward the windows.
Then laughed.
“You called the police?”
Damian answered.
“No.”
“Federal agents,” Julian said.
“Much worse.”
Roman’s smile vanished.
He reached beneath the table.
Luca moved instantly from behind a service entrance.
“Hands where I can see them.”
Roman froze.
Damian watched his cousin.
For eight years, he had dreamed of revenge.
I could see that history inside him.
Then Roman slowly raised his hands.
Damian said one sentence.
“You’re going to live long enough to explain every name in that ledger.”
Roman stared at him.
“You really have changed.”
Damian looked at me.
“Yes.”
Federal agents entered the ballroom.
Roman was taken into custody.
So were several of his associates.
Mercer surrendered documents through his attorney in exchange for whatever legal arrangement his very expensive lawyers had negotiated.
Anthony sat down, suddenly looking his age.
Julian closed his eyes.
And Damian stood beneath the chandelier where two nights earlier I had stopped him from taking a glass of champagne.
It should have felt finished.
It didn’t.
Because as federal agents escorted Roman through the door, he looked back.
“You still don’t know who started the fire.”
Damian’s eyes narrowed.
Roman smiled.
“That wasn’t me.”
Then he disappeared into the corridor.
And the question Michael had left behind changed one final time.
Roman had abandoned him.
But someone else had burned Warehouse 17.
May you like
Someone who had remained hidden even from Roman.
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