Chapter 4 - The Beautiful Prison
“His name is Travis Cole.”
Sofia stood inside the resort’s security control center at two in the morning, wrapped in one of Adrian’s suit jackets because the room was freezing and she had refused to go upstairs.
Adrian had offered the jacket without comment.
That had somehow felt more intimate than it should have.
Daniel, the head of security, enlarged the reflection.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Where did you see him?”
“Staff coffee station. Around ten-thirty.”
Daniel typed.
“There are eleven employees named Travis.”
“Of course there are.”
“Cole narrows it.”
A profile appeared.
Travis Cole.
Thirty-seven.
Facilities subcontractor.
Temporary access.
Hired three months earlier.
Adrian leaned closer.
“Who approved him?”
Daniel searched.
His expression changed.
“Authorization came through executive operations.”
Dominic stood behind them.
“Whose authorization?”
Daniel hesitated.
“Victor Hale.”
Silence.
Victor Hale had been Adrian’s chief operating officer for nine years.
Friend for fifteen.
He was also Noah’s godfather.
Adrian straightened slowly.
“No.”
Daniel looked uncomfortable.
“The approval could be administrative.”
“It better be.”
Sofia watched Adrian.
He wasn't defending Victor emotionally.
He was doing something colder.
Refusing to make an accusation without evidence.
That impressed her.
She hated that too.
Around three, Daniel discovered Travis had left the resort eight hours earlier.
His apartment was empty.
His phone disconnected.
He had apparently never existed at the address listed in his employment documents.
By sunrise, Adrian changed everything.
Noah would stay home.
Tutoring suspended.
No outdoor activities.
No visitors.
No access to the resort floor.
Sofia listened in growing disbelief.
“No.”
Adrian looked at her.
They were back in the kitchen.
Again.
Apparently all major Romano family arguments occurred near expensive appliances.
“No?”
“You heard me.”
“There is a credible threat.”
“I know.”
“So Noah stays inside.”
“For how long?”
“Until we identify the source.”
“That could be weeks.”
“Then weeks.”
“No.”
Adrian stared.
“You seem very comfortable with that word.”
“You make it necessary.”
“Sofia.”
“Noah isn't a package you can lock in a vault.”
“He’s my son.”
“Exactly.”
“And I decide what keeps him safe.”
She folded her arms.
“He’ll hate this.”
“He’ll survive it.”
The words landed badly.
Adrian knew immediately.
Sofia’s expression changed.
“That is an incredibly low standard for childhood.”
He turned away.
She followed.
“You're doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Getting scared and turning his world smaller.”
“You saw the photograph.”
“Yes.”
“Then why are we arguing?”
“Because danger doesn't magically make every decision you make good.”
He faced her.
“What would you have me do?”
“Explain enough that he understands.”
“He’s eight.”
“Which is why you don’t tell him there’s a psychopath stalking him. Tell him there’s a temporary security problem.”
“And then?”
“Give him choices.”
“This isn't a democracy.”
“Congratulations. That attitude is working beautifully.”
He stepped closer.
“Do not question my parenting every time you disagree with me.”
Sofia's anger flashed.
“Then stop making your parenting decisions in security meetings.”
Silence.
Adrian’s face hardened.
“Leave.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“Go upstairs.”
“Adrian—”
“Now.”
She stared at him.
Then nodded.
“Fine.”
She left.
Ten minutes later, Noah found her aggressively folding laundry.
“You fold when you’re mad.”
She looked up.
“I fold when clothes need folding.”
“You made my socks into squares.”
She looked at the socks.
Damn.
Noah climbed onto the bed.
“Dad said I can't go to school.”
Sofia sat beside him.
“Temporary.”
“He said that about the pool last year.”
“How long was that?”
“Four months.”
“Oh.”
He looked at her.
“Is somebody trying to hurt me?”
Sofia’s chest tightened.
Children.
Always listening.
“Why would you ask that?”
“Because security people whisper louder when they think I can't hear.”
She sighed.
“There’s something your dad is worried about.”
“What?”
“We don't know yet.”
“Is that why he missed science night?”
Sofia hesitated.
“Yes.”
Noah looked down.
For once, that answer didn't comfort him.
“He could’ve told me.”
“I know.”
“I would’ve understood.”
“I know.”
“Everybody thinks because I’m eight, I’m stupid.”
“No. They think because you’re eight, you shouldn’t have to be scared.”
He considered that.
“I'm already scared.”
There it was.
Sofia put an arm around him.
Noah leaned into her.
“Will you leave?”
“What?”
“If Dad locks everything down.”
“No.”
“You promise?”
“Yes.”
The word came too quickly.
Promises.
Dangerous things in this family.
Sofia squeezed him.
“I promise.”
Three days passed.
Noah stopped complaining.
That worried Sofia more than complaining would have.
He attended remote school.
Played chess with Dominic.
Built half of Mars out of cardboard.
He even joked with security.
But he stopped asking when he could go outside.
Adrian noticed.
Sofia could tell.
On the fourth evening, he entered the penthouse living room holding two helmets.
Noah looked up.
“What are those?”
“Bicycle helmets.”
“I know.”
“Come downstairs.”
Noah blinked.
Sofia stared.
Adrian looked at her.
“Private ballroom.”
She understood.
The ballroom was closed for renovation.
Enormous.
Secure.
No exterior access.
Adrian had workers clear it.
Then someone brought bicycles.
Noah exploded off the sofa.
“Seriously?”
“Shoes.”
The boy disappeared.
Sofia looked at Adrian.
“You made an indoor bike track?”
“I made a secure area for physical activity.”
She smiled.
“Indoor bike track.”
He sighed.
“Fine.”
Ten minutes later, Noah raced around crystal chandeliers protected by construction wrap while Adrian attempted to keep up.
Sofia laughed until her stomach hurt.
The billionaire nearly crashed into a stack of banquet chairs.
Noah shouted, “You’re terrible!”
“I haven't ridden a bicycle in twenty years!”
“That’s obvious!”
It was ridiculous.
And wonderful.
Later, Noah sat drinking lemonade on the ballroom floor.
Adrian joined him.
Sofia watched from a distance.
The boy leaned against his father.
Adrian froze.
Then put an arm around him.
Sofia looked away.
That moment wasn't hers.
Near midnight, Adrian found her on the rooftop terrace.
Security had cleared it.
Naturally.
“Cold?”
“No.”
“You’re lying.”
“Yes.”
He handed her coffee.
She accepted.
They stood overlooking Las Vegas.
“You were right,” he said.
She nearly dropped the cup.
“Can you repeat that? I want a recording.”
“Don't ruin it.”
She smiled.
“Sorry.”
“The lockdown is hurting him.”
“He understands more than you think.”
“I know.”
Adrian stared across the city.
“I hate not knowing where the threat is coming from.”
“That’s the point.”
He looked at her.
“Whoever’s doing this knows you.”
She continued.
“They know how you react.”
His expression sharpened.
“They send you a threat. You add guards.”
“Yes.”
“Another threat. You lock down the penthouse.”
He said nothing.
“They aren't just frightening you.”
Sofia felt the idea form as she spoke.
“They’re controlling you.”
Adrian went still.
“Think about it.”
She turned toward him.
“Who benefits if you isolate Noah? If you become distracted? If you stop attending meetings? If the board starts thinking you’re unstable?”
Adrian’s face changed.
“Victor.”
She hated how quickly the name came.
“Maybe.”
Victor had been encouraging Adrian to step back from daily operations for months.
Sofia knew because Victor complained about it constantly during dinners.
He joked Adrian had become paranoid.
What if it wasn't a joke?
Adrian pulled out his phone.
Then stopped.
“No.”
“What?”
“If Victor is involved, I don't want him knowing we suspect him.”
“Good.”
Adrian looked at her.
“You think like a criminal.”
“My cousins were exhausting.”
He laughed.
Soft.
Real.
Sofia smiled.
Then silence returned.
Not awkward.
Something else.
Adrian’s gaze dropped briefly to her mouth.
She noticed.
He noticed that she noticed.
Bad.
Very bad.
Sofia looked away.
“Don't.”
His voice was quieter.
“Don't what?”
“Whatever that was.”
“I didn't do anything.”
“Exactly. Keep doing that.”
He stepped slightly closer.
“Sofia.”
Her heart behaved stupidly.
“This is complicated enough.”
“Yes.”
“You’re my employer.”
“Yes.”
“You’re Noah’s father.”
“I’m aware.”
“You're also incredibly annoying.”
“That seems unrelated.”
“It’s highly relevant.”
He smiled.
The elevator alarm sounded.
Both turned.
Daniel’s voice came through the terrace speaker.
“Mr. Romano.”
Adrian answered.
“Yes?”
“We found Travis.”
Sofia's relief was immediate.
“Where?”
Daniel hesitated.
“Dead.”
The warmth vanished.
Adrian’s face became stone.
“How?”
“Police are calling it an apparent overdose.”
Sofia looked at Adrian.
Neither believed it.
Daniel continued.
“There’s one more thing.”
“What?”
“Travis made seven calls before he died.”
“To who?”
Daniel was silent for a second too long.
Then:
“To a private number registered through Romano Holdings.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“Whose?”
May you like
“Victor Hale.”
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