Chapter 6 - The Man Behind the Ring
Roman raised his weapon.
“Don't move.”
The figure stopped.
Not Vittorio.
Marco.
Roman lowered the gun slightly.
Then saw the ring.
“Where did you get that?”
Marco looked at his own hand as though noticing it for the first time.
“From the man in your bedroom.”
Serena's blood went cold.
Roman ran.
The bedroom was empty.
Window closed.
Private elevator locked.
No visible exit.
Then Serena noticed the closet.
A panel stood open behind Roman's suits.
“A passage?”
Roman stared.
He had lived there twelve years.
He had never known.
Marco said, “Old service architecture. Building plans were altered before you bought the floor.”
“By whom?”
Marco's expression answered before he spoke.
“Vittorio.”
They entered the narrow passage.
It descended to the floor below.
At the end lay Roman's father's ring.
Marco had picked it up there before returning.
Vittorio had wanted Roman to see it.
A message.
He knew the truth had been uncovered.
And he wanted the final confrontation.
Roman's phone rang.
Vittorio.
Roman answered.
“Where are you?”
His uncle laughed.
“You sound like your father.”
“You killed him.”
“Your father killed himself the moment he decided morality mattered more than family.”
Roman's grip tightened.
Serena stood beside him.
Vittorio continued.
“And now you've handed our family records to prosecutors because your wife looked disappointed in you.”
“No.”
Roman's voice was calm.
“I did it because my father was right.”
Silence.
That landed.
Vittorio's voice changed.
“Bring me the original ledger.”
“Why?”
“Because Isabella isn't the only person I've taken.”
A video arrived.
Thomas.
Bound to a chair.
Serena gasped.
Vittorio said, “Midnight. Aurelia ballroom.”
Roman looked at the clock.
Forty minutes.
“The hotel?”
“Where this started.”
The call ended.
Serena grabbed her coat.
Roman said nothing.
She stopped.
“You aren't going to tell me to stay?”
“I was thinking it.”
“And?”
“I remembered I enjoy breathing.”
Despite everything, she almost smiled.
Then Roman became serious.
“But I am asking you to let me handle the exchange.”
“That's my father.”
“I know.”
“Then we're handling it together.”
Roman nodded.
“Together.”
The Aurelia ballroom was empty when they arrived.
Only half the chandeliers were lit.
The dance floor where Serena had watched happy couples less than twenty-four hours earlier now seemed enormous.
Thomas sat in a chair at the center.
Vittorio stood behind him.
Two armed men flanked the room.
Roman entered carrying the ledger.
Serena walked beside him.
Vittorio smiled.
“There she is. Gabriel's little girl.”
Serena stared at him.
“You killed my father.”
“I killed many fathers.”
Roman's jaw tightened.
Vittorio laughed.
“And that's why you never deserved this life, Roman. You feel too much.”
Roman looked at Serena.
“No.”
He took her hand.
Right there.
In the open.
In front of his enemy.
“I spent too long pretending I didn't.”
Vittorio's smile faded.
Serena's fingers tightened around Roman's.
Roman lifted the ledger.
“Let Thomas go.”
“Bring it.”
“Thomas first.”
Vittorio raised his gun.
Roman did not move.
Neither did Serena.
Then sirens sounded outside.
Vittorio's face changed.
“You brought police?”
Serena answered.
“I did.”
Vittorio turned toward her.
Roman had expected that.
So had Marco.
The ballroom doors burst open.
Federal agents entered.
Vittorio fired.
Roman shoved Serena behind a marble column.
Agents returned fire.
One of Vittorio's men surrendered.
The other ran.
Marco reached Thomas and cut him free.
Vittorio disappeared through the service corridor.
Roman followed.
“Roman!” Serena shouted.
He stopped.
For years, instinct would have won.
Enemy first.
Revenge first.
Control first.
He looked back at his wife.
Then at the corridor.
And made his choice.
He returned to Serena.
Vittorio escaped.
Serena stared at him.
“You let him go.”
“I chose you.”
“You could have caught him.”
“Maybe.”
“Your father's killer.”
Roman touched her face.
For the first time, he did not care who could see.
“My father spent his last night trying to end this. I'm not honoring him by becoming the next man who chooses revenge over his family.”
Serena's tears spilled.
Roman kissed her forehead.
Agents moved around them.
Cameras waited outside.
The city would know everything by morning.
For once, Roman didn't care.
Thomas was alive.
Isabella was protected.
Adrian had given his statement.
The ledger was in federal custody.
Vittorio was running out of places to hide.
They stepped outside together.
Reporters shouted.
“Mr. Duca!”
“Roman!”
“Is your wife connected to Gabriel Moretti?”
“Is Vittorio Duca wanted for murder?”
“Mrs. Duca, are you leaving your husband?”
That question stopped Serena.
Roman felt her hand tense.
He started to release it.
Old instinct.
Protect her from attention.
Serena looked down.
Roman realized what he was doing.
Then he tightened his grip instead.
Cameras flashed.
Hundreds of them.
Roman turned toward Serena.
“I'm sorry.”
She blinked.
“Here?”
“Especially here.”
Reporters shouted louder.
Roman ignored them.
“For six years, I made you feel like loving you was something I needed to hide.”
Serena's eyes filled.
“I can't erase that.”
“No.”
“But I can stop doing it.”
He lifted her hand.
Not theatrically.
Not possessively.
He simply held it where the entire city could see.
Serena whispered, “This doesn't mean everything is fixed.”
“I know.”
“We have work to do.”
“I know.”
“And I'm still angry.”
“I know.”
She almost smiled.
“You're getting irritatingly good at that.”
Roman smiled.
A real smile.
Photographers captured it.
The image was online within minutes.
Roman Duca holding his wife's hand.
The photograph became the most circulated image in the city by morning.
But one person saw something else.
Vittorio sat inside an abandoned office and enlarged the photograph.
Serena's burgundy sleeve had shifted.
A small bracelet was visible around her wrist.
Vittorio stared.
Then smiled.
He picked up his phone.
“She's wearing Gabriel's bracelet.”
The voice on the other end asked what that meant.
Vittorio opened an old photograph.
Gabriel Moretti wore the same bracelet.
Inside its clasp was a tiny key.
“The ledger was never the real evidence,” Vittorio whispered.
He stood.
“The daughter has been carrying it the entire time.”
Across the city, Serena entered the penthouse and removed the bracelet.
Something metallic clicked.
Roman looked down.
A hidden compartment had opened inside the clasp.
A tiny key fell onto the table.
Serena stared at it.
Then someone knocked three times on the penthouse door.
Marco checked the security monitor.
His face changed.
“Boss.”
Roman stepped beside him.
“Who is it?”
May you like
Marco stared at the screen.
“Vittorio.”
