Chapter 7 - The King of Crown Street Comes Apart
Assistant note: The story continues below without restarting or changing the original plot.
By noon, there were federal agents inside Roman Vale's house.
Naomi would never have believed that sentence when she boarded the Acela.
Two days ago, her greatest concern had been whether the freelance manuscript waiting on her laptop could be edited before Monday.
Now she sat in a secure dining room while a federal prosecutor named Evelyn Hart reviewed evidence collected by a dead woman who had apparently hidden a flash drive in Naomi's parenting book.
Life had become completely unreasonable.
Evelyn was in her early forties, calm, sharp, and noticeably unimpressed by Roman.
Naomi liked her immediately.
"You understand," Evelyn said, "that turning over evidence about Kincaid may also expose your own organization."
Roman leaned back.
"I understand."
"Businesses."
"Yes."
"Employees."
"Yes."
"Potential criminal conduct."
Victor glanced toward Roman.
Roman didn't.
"Yes."
Evelyn studied him.
"Then why now?"
Roman looked toward the nursery.
Naomi knew the answer before he said it.
"My sons."
"That's not enough for me."
Roman's gaze returned.
"My wife asked me to stop."
"Before she died?"
"Yes."
"And you didn't."
Roman's expression tightened.
"No."
"Then why should I believe you now?"
Naomi expected Roman to become angry.
Instead, he answered quietly.
"Because she's dead."
Evelyn waited.
"And because yesterday someone came through my nursery window."
Something changed in the prosecutor's face.
Roman continued.
"I spent most of my life believing power meant nobody could reach what mattered to me."
He looked at his wedding ring.
"I was wrong."
Evelyn closed the file.
"I don't offer absolution."
"I didn't ask."
"I don't make promises."
"Good."
"If your hands aren't clean—"
"They aren't."
Naomi looked at Roman.
He had never admitted that so directly.
Evelyn did too.
"How dirty?"
Roman stared at her.
"Enough that you'll stay interested."
Victor shifted.
Roman continued.
"But I never trafficked children. Never dealt narcotics through schools. Never ordered civilians hurt."
"That's a low moral bar."
"I know."
Again, no defense.
Naomi understood why Evelyn remained cautious.
Men like Roman could reinvent themselves through expensive language.
Philanthropist.
Entrepreneur.
Community leader.
Roman had lawyers trained to turn mud into silk.
But something about him was stripped down now.
Maybe fatherhood.
Maybe Elise's death.
Maybe Jude's gray face on the train.
Evelyn opened a new notebook.
"Start talking."
Roman did.
For four hours.
Names.
Companies.
Routes.
Payoffs.
Deals.
Threats.
Naomi didn't stay for all of it.
She didn't want details.
She went upstairs.
The babies needed feeding.
That world she understood.
Leo was beginning to accept a bottle more consistently.
Miles treated every nipple like a personal insult.
Jude simply wanted to be held.
Naomi sat in the rocking chair with him against her chest.
"Your father is downstairs destroying his empire," she whispered.
Jude yawned.
"Not impressed?"
Another yawn.
"Reasonable."
A voice came from the doorway.
"He has high standards."
Naomi turned.
Roman.
His face looked gray.
"You finished?"
"Break."
"How bad?"
Roman leaned against the frame.
"Bad."
Naomi didn't ask more.
"You hungry?"
He stared.
"What?"
"When did you eat?"
"I don't know."
"Yesterday?"
"Probably."
Naomi pointed toward the hall.
"Kitchen."
Roman looked amused.
"You're ordering me around again."
"Yes."
"Comfortable now?"
"No. You're just terrible at basic survival."
He followed her.
The kitchen was enormous.
Naomi opened the refrigerator.
It contained carefully labeled meals.
Roman stared at them.
"Elise organized everything."
Naomi paused.
There were labels in handwriting.
MONDAY.
TUESDAY.
FREEZE THIS.
ROMAN, DON'T EAT THIS ONE.
Naomi's chest tightened.
Roman looked away.
"Staff hasn't changed them."
"Maybe they don't know whether they're allowed."
"They're not."
Naomi understood.
She took out eggs instead.
"You cook?"
Roman asked.
"Barely."
"You criticized my parenting and now you're going to poison me."
"You own a private jet. Order takeout if you're scared."
Roman smiled.
They made scrambled eggs.
Terrible scrambled eggs.
Roman ate them anyway.
Afterward they sat at the kitchen island.
For several minutes neither spoke.
Then Roman said, "I was fifteen the first time I saw someone killed."
Naomi's hand stopped.
"I don't need—"
"You asked how bad I was."
She remembered.
Roman continued.
"My father ran Crown Street before me."
Naomi knew that name too.
Dominic Vale.
Dead when Roman was twenty-four.
"He believed fear was inheritance."
Roman stared at the countertop.
"If a man feared you, his son should fear your son."
Naomi felt cold.
"That's horrible."
"Yes."
"Did you believe him?"
"When I was young."
"And later?"
Roman looked toward the nursery monitor.
"Elise made belief difficult."
Naomi smiled faintly.
"She laughed at you."
"Constantly."
He took a breath.
"I told myself I was different from my father because I turned the organization legitimate."
"But not completely."
"No."
"Why?"
Roman's answer was immediate.
"Power."
At least he was honest.
"You liked it."
"Yes."
Naomi appreciated the absence of excuses.
Roman rubbed his hands together.
"And fear."
"You were afraid?"
"Always."
She studied him.
"Of what?"
"Being weak."
Naomi almost laughed.
"You realize yesterday I watched you nearly cry because a baby wouldn't drink a bottle."
"I did cry."
"True."
Roman smiled sadly.
"Maybe weakness isn't what I thought."
Naomi nodded.
"Babies are good at destroying illusions."
Roman looked at her.
"So is grief."
That landed.
Later, Naomi walked through the estate gardens.
Roman followed at a distance.
Security remained everywhere.
Yet he seemed quieter.
Less like a boss.
More like a widower trying to remember how to exist.
Naomi stopped near a bench.
"I still need to leave tomorrow."
Roman's face tightened.
"You don't feel safe?"
"That's part of it."
"And the other part?"
She looked toward the house.
"I can't become necessary to them."
"The boys?"
"Yes."
"They already like you."
"That's exactly the problem."
Roman sat beside her.
Naomi continued.
"They lost their mother."
"They won't remember Elise."
"You will."
Roman looked down.
Naomi said carefully, "You can't make me the answer to that absence."
His eyes lifted sharply.
"I wasn't."
"Maybe not consciously."
Silence.
She continued.
"And I can't use them to fill Micah's."
Roman's expression softened.
"Is that what you think you're doing?"
"I don't know."
"You're helping babies eat."
"It's more complicated."
Roman nodded.
"Everything is."
Naomi watched leaves move in the wind.
"I held Jude yesterday and smelled Micah."
Roman didn't speak.
"I knew it wasn't him."
Her eyes filled.
"But for half a second..."
She covered her mouth.
Roman remained beside her.
He did not touch her.
Naomi appreciated that.
"I wanted the lie," she whispered.
Roman answered, "I wake up reaching for Elise."
Naomi looked at him.
"Every morning."
His voice was quiet.
"For maybe two seconds, I don't remember."
Naomi nodded.
"Then you do."
"Then I do."
They sat together.
Two people mourning different worlds.
That evening, Evelyn Hart called Roman downstairs.
Naomi remained near the nursery.
After an hour Roman returned.
His face was unreadable.
"What happened?"
"Evelyn verified two accounts from Elise's drive."
"Kincaid?"
"Yes."
"And Grant?"
"Connected."
Naomi waited.
Roman continued.
"She also found payments from Kincaid to someone inside my company."
"Who?"
He looked toward the hallway.
"Marcus Deane."
Naomi remembered.
Chief of security.
A man standing close to Roman.
"Is he here?"
Roman nodded.
"Where?"
"Security control room."
Naomi's stomach dropped.
"He controls the cameras?"
"Yes."
"The nursery?"
"Yes."
"The window yesterday?"
Roman's expression hardened.
"Yes."
Naomi stood.
"Get the babies out."
Roman already had his phone.
"Victor."
No answer.
He called again.
Nothing.
Roman's face changed.
He ran.
Naomi followed.
They reached the nursery.
Empty.
All three cribs.
Empty.
Naomi's blood went cold.
"Roman."
He stared.
Then a speaker built into the room crackled.
Marcus Deane's voice filled the nursery.
"Don't do anything stupid, boss."
Roman's hands curled into fists.
"Where are my sons?"
"Safe."
"Marcus."
"Your wife should've minded her own business."
Roman closed his eyes.
Naomi saw violence rise inside him like fire.
Marcus continued.
"Come to the south garage alone."
Naomi grabbed Roman's arm.
"No."
He looked at her.
"My sons."
"He wants you angry."
"I am angry."
"Exactly."
The speaker crackled.
"Five minutes, Roman."
Then silence.
Roman turned.
Naomi stepped in front of him.
"Elise said don't start a war."
"He has my children."
"Then don't give him the father he expects."
Roman stared at her.
"What do you suggest?"
Naomi's mind raced.
Marcus controlled cameras.
Security.
Doors.
But maybe not everything.
She looked at the nursery monitor system.
"Who designed this house?"
"Elise."
Naomi turned.
"What?"
"Renovations. She hated the old security layout."
"Did she have emergency plans?"
Roman's eyes widened.
"Safe room."
"Where?"
"Basement."
"Would Marcus know?"
"Security chief."
Naomi shook her head.
"If Elise didn't trust people around you, maybe she created something he didn't know."
Roman stared at her.
Then moved toward a bookcase.
He pulled one book.
Nothing.
Another.
A panel opened.
Behind it was a small keypad.
Roman breathed, "Elise."
He entered their anniversary.
Red light.
Naomi said, "Normal breakfast."
Roman typed.
Green.
The bookcase slid aside.
A narrow staircase descended.
Roman ran down.
Naomi followed.
At the bottom was a hidden safe room.
Victor sat inside, bleeding from a cut near his eyebrow but conscious.
Beside him—
Three babies.
Safe.
Alive.
Jude crying.
Leo screaming.
Miles furious.
Roman nearly collapsed.
He grabbed all three carriers at once.
Victor looked at Naomi.
"Marcus tried to take them through the service hall."
"What happened?"
"Elise built a panic lock."
Roman stared.
Victor continued.
"When nursery alarms trigger, the interior elevator defaults here if someone enters the emergency code."
Roman looked around.
His dead wife had protected their sons from beyond the grave.
Naomi's eyes filled.
Victor stood painfully.
"Marcus thinks I have the boys."
Roman's expression became cold.
"Good."
Naomi watched him.
"What are you going to do?"
Roman looked at his sons.
Then at Victor.
"Nothing violent."
Victor seemed surprised.
"That's new."
Roman gave a grim smile.
"Call Evelyn."
Federal agents arrested Marcus Deane in the south garage twelve minutes later.
He never saw them coming.
Roman didn't touch him.
Didn't threaten him.
Didn't even go downstairs.
Instead, he sat in the hidden safe room holding Jude while Naomi held Leo and Victor rocked Miles badly.
For once, Roman Vale defeated an enemy by refusing to become the man his enemy expected.
But before Marcus was taken away, he said something to Evelyn Hart that would change everything.
"Kincaid doesn't want Roman dead."
Evelyn asked why.
Marcus smiled.
"He wants one of the babies."
May you like
And suddenly the danger surrounding Jude, Leo, and Miles became much darker than anyone had imagined.
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