Chapter 12 - The False Funeral
I woke inside a room without windows.
My head hurt.
The last thing I remembered was returning to the estate.
Eleanor making tea.
Alexander arguing with Rebecca about needing rest.
Then nothing.
I sat up.
No ropes.
No locked restraints.
Just a bed.
A table.
Water.
A door.
I tried it.
Locked.
A camera blinked overhead.
“Sebastian.”
A speaker crackled.
“Good morning, Claire.”
His voice came from somewhere unseen.
“How did you get me out?”
“You trusted the wrong cup.”
Eleanor’s tea.
My stomach dropped.
“Eleanor?”
“She didn’t know.”
Of course.
Sebastian would never use the obvious person if he could manipulate someone innocent.
“What do you want?”
“You.”
“You already have me.”
“Not physically.”
The door opened.
Sebastian entered alone.
He looked less theatrical in person.
Older.
Tired.
Almost grandfatherly.
That frightened me more.
“Margaret was the smartest person who ever worked for Vittorio.”
“You killed her.”
“No.”
“Keller said—”
“I influenced nothing about her cancer.”
“Her records were altered.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To hide that Vittorio paid for her treatment.”
I stared.
“Why hide that?”
“Because Margaret hated receiving anything from the Romano family.”
That sounded believable.
Too believable.
“She found your theft.”
“She found part of it.”
“You threatened me.”
“I threatened everyone.”
He said it casually.
Like admitting he overcharged parking.
“You’re proud of that?”
“No.”
For a second, something like regret crossed his face.
Then vanished.
“I was efficient.”
“What do you want from me?”
“The trust credentials.”
“I don’t have them.”
“I believe you.”
That surprised me.
“Then why take me?”
“Because Alexander does.”
My skin went cold.
“You’re using me.”
“Yes.”
“At least you’re honest.”
“At my age, dishonesty becomes exhausting.”
I looked toward the camera.
“What are you making him do?”
“Die.”
My chest tightened.
Sebastian smiled faintly.
“Not literally. I need the world to believe Alexander Romano died overnight.”
“A false funeral.”
“Exactly.”
“Why?”
“Because the trust activates transitional control upon verified death.”
“But you said you need him alive.”
“I need him alive long enough to authorize transfer.”
“He never will.”
Sebastian’s expression remained calm.
“People sign extraordinary things when someone they love is in danger.”
I hated him for making the word love sound like a weapon.
Hours later, the television turned on.
Breaking news.
A black SUV arriving at Romano Estate.
Ambulances.
Reporters gathering behind gates.
Then the headline.
ALEXANDER ROMANO DEAD AT 34.
My breath stopped.
I knew it was fake.
I knew.
But seeing those words nearly broke me.
The report said Alexander had succumbed to complications from a sudden illness.
Julian released a statement requesting privacy.
Flowers appeared at the gates.
Business channels discussed succession.
Sebastian watched my face.
“Convincing.”
“You planned this together?”
“Alexander planned most of it.”
“What?”
Sebastian seemed amused by my surprise.
“I offered him your life in exchange for his public death.”
“And he agreed.”
“Immediately.”
Of course he did.
Idiot.
Beautiful, infuriating idiot.
“What happens now?”
“Tomorrow Alexander signs trust transfer documents.”
“He won’t.”
“He will.”
“You don’t understand him.”
Sebastian smiled.
“I raised his father.”
“And you still don’t understand him.”
His smile disappeared.
“You think love makes him stronger?”
“No.”
I looked directly at him.
“I think it makes him patient.”
Something flickered in Sebastian’s eyes.
I remembered Alexander at the hotel.
His suspicion of obvious answers.
His insistence on tricks.
He would never simply surrender.
The funeral was scheduled for the next afternoon.
Closed casket.
Naturally.
At noon, Sebastian moved me.
During transport I counted turns.
Right.
Long straight road.
Left.
Rough surface.
Then the smell of salt.
Near water.
Probably eastern Long Island.
I searched the vehicle with my eyes.
Nothing useful.
Except one thing.
A loose metal button beneath the seat.
I pocketed it.
At the new location, I was placed inside an upstairs room.
This one had a window.
Beyond it I saw a small private cemetery.
And men preparing a grave.
Not Alexander’s.
The headstone already carried another name.
SEBASTIAN VALE.
He had prepared his own grave.
I understood.
He intended to disappear again after obtaining control.
Then I saw another inscription.
The death date had already been engraved.
Tomorrow.
Sebastian planned to “die” again after Alexander’s funeral.
Two dead men.
One fortune disappearing.
Clever.
I scratched a message into the window frame with the metal button.
VALE GRAVE. WATER. EAST.
No idea whether anyone would ever see it.
Then I noticed something across the cemetery.
A maintenance worker.
Gray uniform.
Baseball cap.
He looked toward my window.
For half a second, he lifted his face.
Vincent.
I nearly cried.
He placed one finger against his lips.
Then walked away.
Alexander had found me.
But if Sebastian realized it, he would move me immediately.
So I did the hardest thing possible.
Nothing.
That evening Sebastian entered with documents.
“Tomorrow.”
I looked at him.
“He’ll never forgive you.”
“For what?”
“For teaching him what matters.”
Sebastian almost laughed.
“You think this is about love.”
“It is now.”
“No, Claire. This is about power.”
He leaned closer.
“Power always wins.”
After he left, I whispered into the empty room.
“No.”
Because for the first time since I entered Alexander Romano’s world, I understood something Sebastian never had.
Power could make people obey.
Fear could make them silent.
Money could make them disappear.
But none of those things had kept Alexander alive.
People had.
Eleanor.
Vincent.
Julian.
Gabriel.
Me.
Sebastian had spent decades collecting leverage.
Alexander had unknowingly collected loyalty.
May you like
And tomorrow, one of those two men was going to discover which was stronger.
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