Chapter 7 - THE CHRISTMAS TRAP
My first instinct was to run.
Roman physically blocked the hotel suite door.
“Move.”
“No.”
“He has Margaret.”
“I know.”
“She helped me leave.”
“I know.”
“If he hurts her—”
“He wants us emotional.”
“He has a gun to her head!”
“And he sent the photograph to your phone because he knew exactly what it would do.”
I hated him for being right.
Detective Harris had officers moving toward the estate.
Federal agents were coordinating.
Roman’s security team had already surrounded the outer property.
But no one knew how many men Malcolm had inside.
Or where.
Or whether Margaret was the only hostage.
Then my phone rang.
Margaret’s number.
Roman and I stared at each other.
“Answer.”
I did.
“Margaret?”
A man laughed softly.
“Mrs. Carter.”
I had met Malcolm Grayson dozens of times.
He had attended our wedding.
He had given us a silver picture frame.
He once brought me flowers after I miscarried our first pregnancy two years earlier.
Hearing his voice now made my skin crawl.
“Where is Margaret?”
“Safe.”
“Let me speak to her.”
“In time.”
Roman held out his hand.
I shook my head.
Malcolm chuckled.
“Roman there?”
“Yes.”
“Of course he is.”
“What do you want?”
“Your husband knows.”
“I want to hear it from you.”
Silence.
Then, “Eighty-four million dollars.”
“That belongs to the company.”
“It belongs to me.”
“No.”
His voice sharpened.
“I built that company.”
“So did Roman.”
“He inherited everything. I earned everything.”
Roman’s face went cold.
I understood then.
This had never been only about money.
It was resentment fermented over decades.
Malcolm continued.
“I want Roman to access the account and transfer the funds to information I will provide.”
“You framed him.”
“He’ll survive.”
“You tried to destroy our family.”
A pause.
“That part was easier than expected.”
The cruelty hit.
Roman looked away.
Malcolm knew exactly where to cut.
I forced my voice steady.
“Claire told us everything.”
“Claire always did talk too much.”
“You used her.”
“Everyone uses everyone, Savannah. Your husband should have taught you that.”
“No. That is something men like you tell yourselves so you can sleep.”
Roman looked at me.
Malcolm went quiet.
Then he laughed.
“You’ve changed.”
“Yes.”
“Pregnancy does that?”
“Leaving Roman did.”
Roman’s mouth twitched despite the situation.
Malcolm continued.
“Come to the estate.”
“No.”
“Savannah,” Roman whispered.
I raised a hand.
Malcolm’s voice hardened.
“Then Margaret dies.”
My entire body turned to ice.
“You kill her and you lose the only leverage you have.”
Another silence.
Roman’s eyes sharpened.
Good.
Make him think.
I continued.
“You don’t need me. You need Roman.”
“I need Roman cooperative.”
“And you think threatening me makes him cooperative?”
“It always has.”
“No. It makes him unpredictable.”
Roman almost looked offended.
I kept going.
“If you want the money, let Margaret walk out.”
“No.”
“Then let me speak to her.”
Several seconds passed.
Then Margaret’s voice came through.
“Savannah?”
Relief nearly dropped me to my knees.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Are you alone?”
A pause.
“No.”
“Margaret, listen to me. Police are coming.”
Malcolm grabbed the phone.
“Enough.”
“Then what?”
“You and Roman enter through the west gate. No police within half a mile.”
“That isn’t happening.”
“You have twenty minutes.”
He ended the call.
Detective Harris, listening through Roman’s second phone, immediately spoke.
“You are not entering that house.”
Roman said, “He will kill her.”
“We don’t know that.”
“I do.”
I looked at Roman.
“What would your father have done?”
His expression changed.
“To someone he believed betrayed him?”
“Yes.”
Roman did not answer.
He did not need to.
I walked to Grace’s crib.
She slept peacefully, unaware that an entire world of violence and betrayal existed around her.
I touched her cheek.
“No.”
Roman stood behind me.
I turned.
“We end this tonight.”
“Savannah—”
“We do not take Grace.”
“Obviously.”
“She stays with Evelyn.”
“Yes.”
“And we follow the police plan.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“You’re agreeing with Harris?”
“I’m not stupid.”
“I never said—”
“You frequently implied.”
“This feels like a strange time to revisit marital grievances.”
“It helps with stress.”
For the first time in days, Roman laughed.
One short sound.
Then he became serious.
“I don’t want you anywhere near Malcolm.”
“I’m the reason he expects you to cooperate.”
“That is exactly why.”
“Roman.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“You signed divorce papers because you said you understood you could not control me.”
His jaw hardened.
“Using my personal growth against me is cruel.”
“Useful though.”
He stared at me.
Then he sighed.
“Stay behind me.”
“No promises.”
“Savannah.”
“Fine.”
Police built the plan around Malcolm’s expectations.
We would approach through the west gate in Roman’s SUV.
We would appear alone.
Officers would remain out of sight beyond the property perimeter.
Roman wore a wire.
So did I.
No weapons.
That part nearly caused a war between Roman and Detective Harris.
Eventually Roman surrendered his gun.
“You lose this,” he told Harris, “I’m billing the city.”
Harris stared at him.
“It’s evidence.”
“It was custom.”
I almost smiled.
The drive to the estate felt endless.
Snow from Christmas Eve still covered the lawns.
The Christmas lights remained on.
As we approached, I remembered driving away in Margaret’s old truck.
A lifetime had passed since then.
Roman stopped near the western gate.
It opened automatically.
“He controls the system,” Roman said.
The driveway wound through bare trees.
The house appeared ahead.
Beautiful.
Illuminated.
Terrible.
We entered through the kitchen door.
Malcolm stood near the island.
Margaret sat in a chair several feet away.
Her hands were tied.
A man I did not recognize stood behind her.
Another was near the hallway.
Roman looked at Malcolm.
“Let her go.”
Malcolm smiled.
“Still giving orders.”
“You have me.”
“I had you for twenty years. It was never enough.”
Roman entered farther.
I stayed beside him.
Malcolm’s eyes moved to me.
“Savannah. Congratulations on the baby.”
“Thank you.”
“Shame about the marriage.”
“Your concern is touching.”
He smiled.
“I always liked you.”
“I’m devastated the feeling isn’t mutual.”
Margaret nearly smiled.
Malcolm motioned toward Roman.
“Laptop.”
Roman placed it on the island.
“Account access requires verification.”
“I know.”
“Then you know moving that much money triggers reporting.”
“That’s your problem.”
“No. It becomes yours when federal agents freeze it.”
Malcolm’s expression hardened.
“Transfer it.”
Roman opened the laptop.
He typed.
Slowly.
Too slowly.
Malcolm noticed.
“Do not play games.”
Roman looked up.
“You know what your mistake was?”
“Roman,” I warned.
He ignored me.
“You thought I cared most about the company.”
Malcolm smiled.
“You do.”
“No.”
“You always have.”
Roman looked at me.
Then Margaret.
Then back at Malcolm.
“I used to.”
Something shifted in Malcolm’s face.
Roman continued.
“You could have taken the money six months ago and disappeared.”
“You would have hunted me.”
“Yes.”
“But now?”
“Now I would have let the FBI do it.”
Malcolm laughed.
“You expect me to believe Roman Carter suddenly trusts institutions?”
“No.”
Roman closed the laptop.
“But I trust them more than I trust myself angry.”
That was when Malcolm realized something was wrong.
His eyes moved over Roman’s shirt.
Searching.
“Take off your jacket.”
Roman did.
“Shirt.”
Roman froze.
Malcolm raised the gun.
“Now.”
My pulse thundered.
Roman began unbuttoning his shirt.
The wire would be visible.
Everything happened at once.
Margaret kicked backward.
Her chair crashed into the man behind her.
I lunged toward the kitchen lights and hit the switch.
Darkness swallowed the room.
A gunshot exploded.
I screamed.
Someone tackled me.
Glass shattered.
Roman shouted my name.
Another gunshot.
Then men were everywhere.
Police.
Security.
Voices.
Commands.
I curled against the floor.
A heavy body hit the tiles beside me.
The lights came back.
Roman was three feet away.
Blood covered his white shirt.
Everything inside me stopped.
“Roman!”
I crawled toward him.
He looked down, confused.
Then touched his side.
Blood coated his hand.
“No.”
I pressed both hands against the wound.
“Stay with me.”
His face went pale.
“Savannah.”
“You do not get to die.”
A strange smile touched his mouth.
“You’re still bossy.”
“Shut up.”
Police pinned Malcolm against the floor nearby.
Margaret was crying but alive.
None of it mattered.
Only Roman.
His hand covered mine.
“Grace?”
“She’s safe.”
“Good.”
His eyes fluttered.
“Roman.”
“I’m tired.”
“No.”
“Savannah—”
“You checked your watch.”
His eyes opened.
“What?”
“Christmas Eve. I asked you to stay and you checked your watch.”
Pain crossed his face.
“I know.”
“If you die now, that cannot be the last version of you I remember.”
His fingers tightened around mine.
“It won’t be.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
The paramedics pulled me away.
Roman disappeared beneath bright medical lights and urgent voices.
As they carried him toward the ambulance, he turned his head.
Our eyes met.
May you like
For the first time in our marriage, Roman Carter had absolutely no control over what happened next.
And neither did I.
