Chapter 8 - The Son Kincaid Wanted
At first, Roman thought Marcus was lying.
Naomi hoped he was.
Evelyn Hart didn't believe in hope.
She believed in questions.
"Which baby?" she asked.
Marcus sat handcuffed inside an interview room at the estate's security annex.
He smiled.
"Ask Grant."
Roman watched through one-way glass.
Naomi stood beside him.
Victor's eyebrow had been stitched.
He refused pain medication because it made him sleepy.
Naomi suspected he was simply stubborn.
"Why would Kincaid want a baby?" Naomi asked.
Victor shook his head.
"No idea."
Roman said nothing.
His face had changed.
Every threat until now had made sense within his world.
Money.
Territory.
Evidence.
Power.
But a child?
That reached somewhere beyond even his experience.
Evelyn repeated the question.
Marcus leaned back.
"I don't know."
"Then why mention it?"
"Because Grant mentioned it."
"When?"
"Before Elise died."
Roman's body went rigid.
Marcus continued.
"He said one of the boys mattered more than the others."
Naomi felt sick.
Triplets.
Same age.
Same parents.
Why would one matter?
Evelyn asked.
"Which one?"
Marcus smiled again.
"The firstborn."
Roman whispered, "Jude."
Naomi looked at him.
"How far apart?"
"Four minutes."
Victor frowned.
"Kincaid doesn't care about birth order."
Evelyn emerged ten minutes later.
"Marcus won't say more without a deal."
Roman's expression hardened.
"Give him nothing."
Evelyn raised an eyebrow.
"That's my decision."
Roman almost argued.
Then stopped.
Naomi noticed.
Change looked strange on him.
Evelyn continued.
"I've already requested Elise's medical records."
Roman frowned.
"What for?"
"Grant was involved in prenatal care?"
"Consulting physician."
Dr. Shah, standing nearby, looked disturbed.
"He had access to the babies before birth?"
Roman nodded.
"Elise had complications."
Evelyn asked, "Genetic testing?"
Roman's face changed.
"Yes."
Naomi felt the room shift.
Victor swore quietly.
Roman looked toward Evelyn.
"What?"
"Could Kincaid want Jude because of paternity?"
Roman stepped toward her.
"Careful."
"I'm asking."
"They're my sons."
"I didn't say they weren't."
Naomi put a hand on Roman's arm.
He stopped.
Evelyn continued.
"Sometimes genetic information has financial implications."
Victor frowned.
"Inheritance."
Roman looked at him.
The pieces began moving.
Dominic Vale, Roman's father, had built part of the family's wealth through a private holding company.
Naomi learned that Jude, as Roman's firstborn child, automatically became beneficiary of a trust created decades earlier.
Not simply money.
Voting control.
Vale Maritime shares.
Properties.
Several billion dollars in assets.
Roman laughed bitterly.
"My father wrote medieval inheritance rules."
Evelyn nodded.
"If Roman dies before Jude turns twenty-five, who controls Jude's trust?"
Victor went pale.
"The appointed corporate guardian."
"Who?"
Roman stared toward the floor.
"Family physician and legal trustee."
Naomi knew.
"Grant."
Roman closed his eyes.
Evelyn continued.
"And if Jude dies?"
"Leo becomes first beneficiary."
"And if all three children—"
Roman slammed his hand onto the table.
"Enough."
Everyone stopped.
Naomi understood.
Kincaid didn't need the babies alive forever.
He needed control.
Grant had legal authority in certain circumstances.
If Roman died.
If Roman became incapacitated.
If Jude was separated from him.
This wasn't simply a crime war.
It was corporate theft with newborn lives attached.
Naomi felt cold.
"Elise discovered it."
Victor nodded slowly.
"Probably."
Roman looked devastated.
"That's why she was leaving."
"Not just because of Kincaid's routes," Naomi said.
"She was protecting the boys."
Evelyn ordered immediate changes to the trust structure.
Lawyers arrived.
Documents moved.
Emergency court filings began.
Roman spent six hours signing papers.
Naomi watched from the nursery.
That evening he came in carrying three folders.
"Done."
"What?"
"Grant is removed from every trust."
"Can you do that?"
"I can when the alternate trustee is federal custody protection."
Naomi blinked.
"You moved billions of dollars because of a six-week-old baby?"
Roman looked at Jude.
"I would've burned billions yesterday."
Naomi believed him.
Jude yawned.
Roman smiled.
"Turns out paperwork is cheaper."
For the first time, Naomi saw something approaching peace.
Not safety.
Not yet.
But direction.
Roman was no longer reacting.
He was dismantling the mechanisms that had trapped him.
The next morning, Naomi's forty-eight hours ended.
She packed.
Roman found her near the front staircase.
"You were serious."
"About leaving?"
"Yes."
"I told you."
"The danger isn't over."
"It never will be around you."
The words hurt him.
Naomi saw it.
But she didn't withdraw them.
Roman nodded.
"Fair."
"I need my apartment."
"We can secure it."
"No."
"Naomi."
"I need something that's mine."
Roman looked toward her bag.
"The boys will miss you."
"They're six weeks old."
"They know your voice."
Naomi's throat tightened.
"Don't."
Roman understood.
He nodded.
"You said you didn't want to become necessary."
"Yes."
"What if you already are?"
Naomi looked at him.
"Then you help them learn I don't have to be."
That was difficult for him.
But Roman was learning.
He stepped back.
"I'll have a car take you."
"No convoy."
"One security vehicle."
"No."
"Naomi."
"One driver."
"Armed."
She rolled her eyes.
"Fine."
Before leaving, Naomi entered the nursery.
Miles was asleep.
Leo sucked determinedly on a bottle.
Jude watched the ceiling.
She picked him up.
His tiny fingers touched her chin.
Naomi's eyes filled.
"I'm not your mother," she whispered.
Roman stood quietly outside the doorway.
"You had one. Her name was Elise."
Jude blinked.
"She loved you more than anything."
Naomi kissed his forehead.
"And I'm going to make sure everybody tells you."
She placed him down.
Roman looked away.
Naomi walked past him.
At the front door, he spoke.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"Everything."
Naomi managed a smile.
"Learn how to use the bottle warmer."
"I own six."
"That wasn't the assignment."
He laughed.
Naomi left.
For the first time in days, she breathed freely.
The drive toward Baltimore felt unreal.
Ordinary cars.
Ordinary traffic.
People buying coffee.
A teenager walking a dog.
Naomi wanted to stop someone and tell them:
You have no idea how beautiful normal is.
Her apartment had been cleaned after the search.
The broken lock was replaced.
She stepped inside.
Silence.
Micah's photograph sat on the shelf.
Naomi touched it.
"I'm home."
She cried for twenty minutes.
Not because of Roman.
Not because of danger.
Because this apartment still contained the shape of a life that had ended.
Later, Naomi showered.
Made tea.
Opened her laptop.
Tried to work.
At nine fifteen, someone knocked.
Naomi froze.
Roman's driver had left hours ago.
She approached the door quietly.
"Who is it?"
A woman's voice answered.
"Tessa."
Naomi exhaled and opened it.
Her best friend stepped inside carrying wine and takeout.
Then stopped.
"What happened to you?"
Naomi laughed.
"How much time do you have?"
"All night."
Naomi told her almost everything.
Not the classified evidence.
But enough.
Tessa stared at her for thirty seconds afterward.
"So you breastfed a crime boss's triplets on a train."
"When you say it like that—"
"No, Naomi. There is no normal way to say it."
Naomi laughed until she cried.
It felt good.
Then Tessa's expression changed.
"What?"
Naomi asked.
Tessa held up her phone.
"This was posted ten minutes ago."
A gossip account had published a photograph.
Naomi on the train.
Roman beside her.
Jude in her arms.
Headline:
ROMAN VALE'S MYSTERY WOMAN—NEW LOVE DAYS AFTER WIFE'S FUNERAL?
Naomi's stomach dropped.
"No."
Comments multiplied by the second.
Gold digger.
Mistress.
Homewrecker.
Was she involved before Elise died?
Roman replaces wife fast.
Naomi felt sick.
Tessa took the phone.
"Don't read it."
Too late.
Then Naomi saw another post.
Her name.
Her occupation.
Her neighborhood.
Someone had identified her.
A third account published an old photograph of Micah.
Naomi stopped breathing.
"Turn it off."
Tessa immediately did.
Naomi covered her mouth.
They had touched Micah.
They had dragged her dead baby into strangers' entertainment.
Her phone rang.
Roman.
She ignored it.
Again.
Ignored.
Third time.
Tessa said, "Answer."
Naomi did.
"What?"
Roman's voice was cold with anger.
"I'm fixing it."
"You can't fix the internet."
"I can fix whoever leaked it."
"Don't threaten anybody."
"I'm not."
"Roman."
"I'm serious."
Naomi heard babies crying in the background.
Her anger weakened.
Roman continued.
"I'm sorry."
She closed her eyes.
"You didn't post it."
"My world did."
Silence.
Then Roman said, "Naomi, listen carefully."
Her eyes opened.
"What?"
"Don't leave your apartment."
Cold spread through her chest.
"Why?"
"Victor found the account that first posted your address."
"And?"
"It was created three hours before the train reached Washington."
Naomi gripped the phone.
"Meaning?"
"They planned this before the photo went public."
A sound came from the hallway outside her apartment.
Footsteps.
Naomi looked toward the door.
Roman's voice sharpened.
"What was that?"
"Tessa."
"No."
Another sound.
Metal.
Someone touching the lock.
Naomi whispered, "Roman."
"Move away from the door."
Tessa's face drained.
The knob turned slowly.
Roman shouted through the phone.
"Naomi, get out!"
She grabbed Tessa.
They ran toward the bedroom.
Behind them, the apartment door opened.
And Naomi realized the most dangerous thing she had done wasn't helping Roman's babies.
It was walking away from them.
Because Kincaid's people had decided Roman Vale had one more weakness now.
May you like
Her.
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