Chapter 19 - secrets beneath the floorboards
Within twenty minutes, Roman had moved them into his private study on the penthouse’s lower level. The room smelled of old leather and aged cedar. Across a broad mahogany table, dozens of financial ledgers and blueprinted diagrams of the Vance estate were spread out beneath the glow of green banker lamps.
Clara paced along the Persian rug, clutching a mug of tea she had barely touched. "If she survived the crash, why did she leave me? Why let Julian and his family strip away every asset my father built? I was seven years old, Roman. Seven."
"Because you were never the target, Clara," Roman said quietly, pulling open a locked metal drawer beneath the desk. He pulled out a thick, water-damaged manila folder labeled with the crest of the Chicago Maritime Registry. "Look at the cargo manifest from that flight in 1999."
Clara rushed over and leaned across the table. Her eyes scanned the faded typewritten columns. Listed beneath passenger names was an insurance bond valued at eighty million dollars, registered under a blind Swiss foundation. The co-signer of that foundation was not Clara’s father, but Gregory Vance.
"Gregory Vance didn't sabotage your family's empire from the outside," Roman explained, tapping a blunt fingernail against the registry seal. "He was invited in. The crash was an extraction, not a murder. But someone betrayed the arrangement halfway through. Two bodies washed ashore three weeks later—the pilot and Vance's original business partner."
"And my mother vanished into thin air," Clara breathed, horror twisting her stomach. "You think she helped him orchestrate the crash?"
"Or she discovered what Gregory was actually moving under your father’s shipping licenses, and faked her death to protect you from the crossfire," Roman replied grimly. "There is only one way to confirm the truth. The Lake Forest manor is scheduled for public foreclosure auction on Monday morning. Whoever sent that courier knows their time is running out."
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He retrieved a slim black case from the desk, flicking open the clasp. Inside lay two compact automatic pistols and an electronic bypass key for high-security digital gates.
"You don't have to go alone," Roman said, stepping into her space, his intense gaze unwavering. "Whatever waits inside those iron gates tonight, they will answer to me before they lay a single finger on you."
