Chapter 2 - The Brother in the Grave
Vincent did not answer.
For several seconds, he simply stood beside his desk with the receiver pressed against his ear while rain streaked the windows behind him.
Harper watched every trace of warmth disappear from his face.
“Say something,” the voice on the phone said.
Vincent’s grip tightened.
“You’re dead.”
A quiet laugh came through the receiver.
“That’s not much of a greeting.”
Harper could hear enough to understand.
Her stomach twisted.
Vincent’s brother Roman had been twenty-nine when his car supposedly went over an embankment north of the city.
Vincent had never discussed the details.
Harper knew only that the body had been badly burned and identification had been made through dental records and a family ring.
“You died eight years ago,” Vincent said.
“No. You were told I died eight years ago.”
“Where are you?”
“Close.”
Vincent looked toward the office door.
Harper did too.
“What do you want?”
Roman paused.
“Tonight? I want you alive.”
Vincent’s expression hardened.
“That supposed to reassure me?”
“No. But you’ve always been difficult to reassure.”
“Why are Gideon’s people inside my building?”
“Because Gideon thinks tonight is his last chance.”
“For what?”
“To stop your secretary.”
Roman’s tone changed.
“Harper found something she was never supposed to find.”
Vincent looked at her.
Harper felt her pulse quicken.
Roman knew her name.
“What did I find?” she asked loudly enough for the phone to catch it.
Roman laughed softly.
“So that’s Harper Hayes.”
Vincent’s eyes narrowed.
“Don’t say her name.”
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“You sound like Father.”
Something dangerous passed across Vincent’s face.
“Our father is dead.”
“Yes. That one really is true.”
Harper moved closer to Vincent.
She pointed at the flash drive.
Ask him about RMR.
Vincent understood.
“What is RMR Holdings?”
Silence.
Then Roman exhaled.
“So she found everything.”
“Not everything,” Harper said.
“No,” Roman replied. “If you had found everything, you wouldn’t still be standing in that office.”
Vincent’s patience broke.
“Stop speaking in riddles.”
“Fine. Gideon has been stealing from Romano businesses for six years. Not thousands. Not millions. Tens of millions.”
Vincent glanced at Harper.
She nodded.
Her own estimates had reached nearly forty-three million.
Roman continued.
“When you began restructuring the family companies, Gideon realized eventually you would uncover it. He needed another way to survive.”
“What does that have to do with you?”
“I financed part of it.”
Vincent stared at the phone.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“You shouldn’t.”
“Then why tell me?”
“Because guilt has an expiration date.”
Vincent’s expression changed.
Harper realized something.
Roman wasn’t threatening them.
He sounded tired.
“Eight years ago,” Roman continued, “I discovered Father was preparing to remove Gideon’s father from the business.”
Vincent stiffened.
“Uncle Carlo?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“Skimming money. Using company routes for deals Father hadn’t approved. Creating debts with people who expected the Romano name to cover them.”
Vincent paced once across the dark office.
“Father never said anything.”
“He was trying to protect the family.”
“That excuse again.”
“Yes. That excuse destroyed us.”
Roman’s voice carried bitterness.
“I confronted Carlo. He threatened me. Gideon overheard part of it. A week later somebody sabotaged my car.”
Vincent stopped moving.
“That crash was real?”
“Yes.”
“But you survived.”
“Barely.”
“Why fake your death?”
“Because someone arrived at the hospital before Father did and offered the doctor fifty thousand dollars to make sure I didn’t wake up.”
Harper’s skin went cold.
“Gideon?”
“I believed it was Carlo.”
“You believed?”
“I never proved it.”
Vincent’s voice dropped.
“So you disappeared.”
“I had help.”
“From whom?”
“Your mother.”
Vincent sat down.
Harper had never seen him lose physical balance before.
His mother, Elena Romano, had died five years earlier after a long illness.
Roman continued.
“She convinced your father I was dead because she believed whoever wanted me gone would come after you next if they thought I survived.”
Vincent’s eyes closed.
“She knew?”
“Yes.”
“For three years?”
“Yes.”
“And never told me.”
“She wanted to.”
“Don’t defend her.”
“I’m not. I’m explaining.”
Vincent looked wounded in a way Harper had never witnessed.
His brother alive.
His mother’s secret.
His father’s silence.
Eight years of grief suddenly rearranged into betrayal.
Harper wanted to touch him.
She didn’t.
Not yet.
“Why come back now?” she asked.
Roman hesitated.
“Because Gideon stopped stealing from the family.”
Vincent frowned.
“That should be good news.”
“He started selling it.”
The rain seemed louder.
Roman continued.
“Warehouse contracts. Shipping access. Internal financial systems. Private schedules. Security rotations.”
Harper understood first.
“He’s selling access.”
“Yes.”
“To whom?”
“A consortium that has been trying to force Romano Logistics into acquisition for two years.”
Vincent’s face darkened.
“Kessler North.”
Harper looked at him.
Kessler North Capital was a private equity firm whose acquisition offers Vincent had rejected three times.
Roman continued.
“Gideon promised them control from inside. They promised him the CEO chair once you were gone.”
Vincent’s expression turned cold.
“Gone how?”
“That depends which plan he chooses.”
Harper stepped closer to the phone.
“Why did Gideon pay the overnight security supervisor?”
“To clear the floor.”
“For who?”
Roman went silent.
Vincent stood.
“Roman.”
“People who were supposed to make tonight look like Vincent disappeared voluntarily.”
Harper’s breathing slowed.
“Why tonight?”
“Because tomorrow morning the Romano Logistics board votes on the Kessler proposal.”
Vincent stared at Harper.
He had planned to reject it publicly.
Roman continued.
“If Vincent doesn’t appear, Gideon holds his voting proxy under the emergency succession clause.”
Harper’s face went pale.
“I drafted that clause.”
“Yes.”
“I wrote it after Vincent’s father died.”
“I know.”
“And Gideon intends to use it.”
“Yes.”
She turned toward Vincent.
“This is my fault.”
“No,” Vincent said immediately.
“You signed what I drafted.”
“Because it was good law.”
“It gives Gideon temporary authority if you disappear.”
“You couldn’t predict this.”
Roman interrupted.
“You two can discuss guilt later. You have approximately seven minutes.”
Vincent looked at the clock.
“Until what?”
“Until the building’s fire system initiates an evacuation.”
Harper frowned.
“There’s no fire.”
“There will be an alarm.”
Vincent understood.
“They want everyone outside.”
“Yes.”
“And they’ll isolate me during evacuation.”
“Exactly.”
Vincent went to the window.
Forty-two floors below, rain-washed streets glowed.
“Why warn me?”
Roman’s answer came quietly.
“Because I’ve spent eight years pretending you weren’t my brother.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“And?”
“And tonight I decided I’m tired of pretending.”
The phone disconnected.
Harper and Vincent stood in silence.
Then she spoke.
“Do you trust him?”
“No.”
“Do you believe him?”
Vincent looked at the dead phone.
“Yes.”
That distinction told Harper everything.
“We need to get you out.”
“No.”
“Vincent—”
“If I leave, Gideon wins.”
“If you stay, you may walk directly into his trap.”
“Then we change the trap.”
Harper stared at him.
The old Vincent was returning.
Focused.
Strategic.
Controlled.
She knew that expression.
It had saved companies.
Destroyed negotiations.
Broken arrogant men who underestimated him.
“What do you need?” she asked.
“You.”
Her heart stopped for half a beat.
Vincent seemed to realize what he had said.
His gaze held hers.
Then the office lights began flashing.
A calm automated voice announced:
“Attention. A fire emergency has been reported. Please proceed to the nearest designated stairwell.”
Harper looked toward the door.
Vincent removed the brass key.
“This time,” he said, “I’m unlocking it.”
He opened the deadbolt.
Harper caught his arm.
“Wait.”
He turned.
“If Gideon expects you to leave by the main stairwell, don’t.”
“I know.”
“No. I mean don’t leave this floor at all.”
Vincent studied her.
Harper’s mind was moving quickly now.
“Gideon needs witnesses to believe you disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“So give him witnesses.”
“You want me to fake my own evacuation?”
“I want him to think you walked into his plan.”
A slow smile appeared on Vincent’s face.
“Four years with me has made you dangerous.”
“Four years with you made me tired.”
“Still leaving?”
Her expression changed.
“Survive the night first.”
They moved quickly.
Harper used a spare charcoal overcoat from Vincent’s closet, placed it over the shoulders of a maintenance mannequin stored in the service corridor, and positioned it inside an empty executive elevator.
Vincent stared.
“You have strange ideas under pressure.”
“You hired me.”
“Best decision I ever made.”
The words landed too deeply.
She ignored them.
When the fire alarm triggered elevator recall, Harper overrode one system for seventeen seconds—long enough for the elevator containing the mannequin to descend several floors before freezing.
Security cameras still functioning in lower levels captured what looked, from a distance, like Vincent entering the elevator.
Then Harper and Vincent remained hidden behind the office’s internal wall.
They heard footsteps.
Voices.
The office door opened.
Someone entered.
Gideon.
Harper recognized his voice immediately.
“Vincent?”
Silence.
Another man answered.
“Elevator showed movement.”
“Track it.”
Footsteps crossed the office.
Gideon stopped beside the desk.
Harper held her breath.
Then paper rustled.
Her resignation envelope.
She had forgotten Vincent had pushed it into her coat earlier.
So what was Gideon touching?
Another envelope.
Vincent’s expression shifted.
They listened.
Gideon muttered:
“He signed it.”
The men left.
Several seconds passed.
Harper turned toward Vincent.
“Signed what?”
“I have no idea.”
They waited another minute.
Then stepped out.
On Vincent’s desk sat a new document.
Harper picked it up.
Her eyes widened.
“What?”
She handed it to Vincent.
It was a transfer agreement.
Romano Logistics.
Controlling voting interest.
Signed by Vincent Romano.
The signature was nearly perfect.
Harper studied the date.
Tomorrow.
“They forged your signature.”
Vincent looked almost amused.
“Badly.”
“It looks identical.”
“To you.”
She stared at him.
He pointed toward the final letter.
“My signature always finishes upward.”
Harper examined it.
The forged signature sloped slightly down.
One tiny mistake.
Maybe enough.
Maybe not.
Her phone suddenly regained network service.
Dozens of notifications appeared.
Then an email opened automatically.
No sender.
No subject.
One attachment.
A photograph.
Harper tapped it.
Her breath left her.
The image showed her younger sister, Emma, leaving her apartment earlier that evening.
Beside the photograph was one sentence:
Harper leaves Romano tonight, or Emma learns what happens when you choose the wrong family.
Vincent saw it.
Every muscle in his body went still.
Harper whispered, “That’s why I resigned.”
He looked at her.
“What?”
She could barely breathe.
“I received the first photograph three days ago.”
“You told me nobody threatened you.”
“I lied.”
Vincent’s eyes burned.
“Why?”
“Because they said if you found out, Emma would pay for it.”
His face became dangerously calm.
“How many messages?”
“Six.”
“Show me.”
She opened them.
Photographs of Emma’s building.
Her car.
Her workplace.
Her grocery store.
One image taken through a café window.
Vincent read every message.
Then he looked at Harper.
“You resigned to protect your sister.”
“And you.”
“Me?”
“The final message said if I stayed, they would expose financial records connecting you to crimes committed before you took control.”
Vincent frowned.
“What records?”
“I don’t know.”
Her phone vibrated again.
Another message.
This time there was no photograph.
Just six words.
You should have left when warned.
Then a live video appeared.
Emma’s apartment.
The front door standing open.
Lights on.
No one inside.
Harper’s hand began shaking.
“Emma.”
Vincent caught the phone before she dropped it.
Harper looked at him.
“They have her.”
Vincent checked the timestamp.
Then froze.
“No.”
“What?”
“Look.”
He enlarged the image.
On the kitchen counter sat a red ceramic mug.
Harper stared.
Emma hated coffee.
Vincent zoomed farther.
Beside the mug was a newspaper.
The headline was three weeks old.
“This isn’t live,” Vincent said.
Harper’s fear shifted into confusion.
“They want you to think Emma is missing.”
“Why?”
Vincent turned toward the office.
“Because they want us to go somewhere.”
Harper’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
A woman whispered:
“Harper?”
Harper’s knees nearly gave out.
“Emma?”
“Why are two men sitting outside my building?”
Harper closed her eyes in relief.
“You’re home?”
“Yes.”
“Lock everything. Don’t go outside.”
“What’s happening?”
“Just trust me.”
Vincent was already typing a message to his most trusted private driver.
Harper whispered, “Emma, someone is coming to get you.”
Then Emma said something that changed everything.
“Harper, there’s already someone here.”
Harper stopped breathing.
“Who?”
A man’s voice came through the phone.
“Hello, Harper.”
Vincent’s face changed instantly.
Harper recognized the voice too.
Roman Romano.
And before the call ended, Roman said five words that made Vincent turn toward the elevator.
May you like
“Gideon knows where we are.”
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