Chapter 6 - THE MAN WHO SAVED JULIAN
Victor chose the meeting place.
Serafina chose whether to attend.
That distinction caused Roman visible pain.
“I can meet him without you.”
“No.”
“Serafina.”
“Try again.”
Roman stood in the hotel suite with both hands braced against a table.
“I would strongly prefer that you not sit across from Victor Cade.”
“Better.”
“You’re still going.”
“Yes.”
He exhaled through his nose.
“I hate this.”
“I know.”
The meeting took place in a private dining room at a hotel neither man controlled.
Victor arrived alone.
So did Roman.
Serafina sat between them by choice.
Victor Cade was not what she expected.
No theatrical gold ring.
No oversized entourage.
Dark blue suit.
Silver at the temples.
Tired eyes.
He looked almost ordinary.
That was worse.
His gaze went immediately to the pendant.
“There you are.”
Serafina covered it.
“You mean the necklace.”
Victor smiled faintly.
“No. I mean you.”
Roman’s chair moved half an inch.
Victor noticed.
“So the rumors are true.”
“What rumors?” Serafina asked.
“That Roman Valenti has developed an interest in something he cannot put on a balance sheet.”
Roman’s voice went cold.
“Careful.”
Serafina looked at him.
He stopped.
Victor smiled.
“Interesting.”
She leaned forward.
“You changed the warehouse evacuation.”
His smile disappeared.
“Yes.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“Why?”
Victor looked at him.
“Because Julian was going to remove the records before the fire.”
“Then you knew he was inside.”
“I knew he intended to go back.”
“You moved evacuation to two-thirty.”
“I needed twenty minutes.”
“For what?”
“To find him.”
Roman almost stood.
Serafina touched his sleeve.
Not to control him.
To remind him.
Evidence first.
Victor continued.
“Enzo wanted the records destroyed after the building was empty. Julian intended to move them before the burn.”
“So you trapped him,” Serafina said.
“I locked the west loading door.”
Roman’s hands curled.
Victor looked directly at him.
“I thought Julian would give me the red book once he realized he could not leave.”
“But the fire spread.”
“Yes.”
“Your plan went wrong.”
“Yes.”
“You almost killed him.”
“Yes.”
No excuse.
That surprised Serafina.
Victor rubbed his thumb over one knuckle.
“When smoke filled the office, I went back.”
Roman stared.
“You rescued him.”
“I carried him out.”
“Then took him to Miriam.”
“Yes.”
“Why not a hospital?”
“Because Enzo’s men were already searching.”
“For Julian?”
“For the records.”
Victor’s face hardened.
“Your father did not know Julian was still inside when the fire started.”
Roman sat back.
Victor continued.
“I spent forty-eight hours trying to find a surgeon who would operate without reporting the gunshot wound Julian also had.”
Serafina blinked.
“Gunshot?”
Roman went still.
“No one mentioned a gunshot.”
Victor looked at him.
“Because that happened before the fire.”
“Who shot him?”
Victor’s silence answered differently than words.
“Who?” Roman repeated.
“Julian.”
Roman stared.
Victor leaned back.
“He fired accidentally while we fought over the book.”
“You expect me to believe Julian shot himself?”
“The weapon discharged between us.”
Victor looked down.
“I was holding his wrist.”
That was not innocence.
It was not deliberate murder either.
“I caused the injury.”
His voice became quieter.
“I caused the delay. I caused most of what happened that night.”
“Then why build a debt empire afterward?” Serafina asked.
Victor looked at her.
“Because I learned what desperation does.”
“So you manufactured more of it?”
“I controlled it.”
“That is not better.”
“It was to me.”
He did not pretend otherwise.
Victor had watched Enzo lose a son, watched Roman nearly become a defendant, watched dozens of employees panic as the family organization splintered.
He became convinced chaos was the enemy.
Contracts created predictability.
Debt created compliance.
People who owed him did not disappear.
“People who owe you cannot leave,” Serafina said.
“Exactly.”
The honesty chilled her.
“And you think that is help?”
“I think banks do not loan twelve thousand dollars to dancers at two in the morning when their mothers need treatment.”
“Aurelia gave grants.”
“Aurelia ran out of money.”
“Because you took it.”
“Because Enzo took nine million for Roman’s hotel.”
Roman’s face hardened.
Victor looked at him.
“And because families stopped donating after Julian died.”
“So you charged women four times what you gave them.”
“I kept Saint Violet alive.”
“You kept yourself powerful.”
Victor’s mouth tightened.
There.
Serafina had found the wound.
He leaned toward her.
“Give me the pendant and red book.”
“No.”
“I erase every Saint Violet balance.”
Roman looked at Serafina.
He said nothing.
Her choice.
Victor noticed that too.
“Every woman?” Serafina asked.
“Yes.”
“Because they owe you?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Victor frowned.
“They don’t owe you anything.”
His eyes cooled.
“That argument will take years.”
“Then I’ll spend years making it.”
Victor studied her.
Then smiled sadly.
“You really are Miriam’s daughter.”
He stood.
“There is something she has not told you.”
Serafina’s stomach tightened.
“What?”
“When her heart began failing six months ago, she came to me.”
Roman’s eyes sharpened.
Victor continued.
“She asked me for help.”
Serafina shook her head.
“No.”
“She knew exactly who owned Saint Violet.”
“You’re lying.”
“I offered to cover every medical expense.”
“In exchange for what?”
His gaze dropped to the pendant.
“That.”
Serafina went cold.
“She refused.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did I end up owing you twelve thousand dollars?”
May you like
Victor’s expression became unreadable.
“Ask Miriam why she recognized my company name on your contract and said nothing.”
