Chapter 5 - The Betrayal in the Romano Family
Nicholas ended the call without answering Nathan.
Claire stared at him.
“Why did you hang up?”
“Because men like Nathan believe hearing their own voice is power.”
“And?”
“I dislike rewarding bad behavior.”
Under ordinary circumstances she might have smiled.
Nobody did.
Marco was already coordinating security.
The bank vault was secure, but not indefinitely useful.
Nicholas gathered every document.
Martin looked uneasy.
“If Daniel is with Nathan, we have a bigger problem.”
“My uncle has access to every Romano property.”
“Including the farmhouse?”
“Yes.”
“Vehicles?”
“Yes.”
“Security personnel?”
Nicholas looked at Marco.
“Some.”
Marco understood.
“Rotating everybody.”
Nicholas turned to Claire.
“You’re leaving Nashville.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You heard Nathan.”
“Yes.”
“He knows who you are.”
“He knew before last night.”
“He knows you’re with me.”
“That seems safer than being without you.”
The words stopped him.
Claire realized what she had said.
So did everyone else.
Martin suddenly became fascinated by the floor.
Marco walked away to take an unnecessary phone call.
Nicholas lowered his voice.
“You trust me?”
Claire looked at him.
“I trust that you had every opportunity to lie to me last night and didn’t.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No.”
She stepped closer.
“But it’s a start.”
Nicholas held her gaze.
Something passed between them.
Not romance exactly.
Not yet.
Something more fragile.
Permission.
He nodded.
“You stay.”
Claire exhaled.
“But beside me,” Nicholas added.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The control issue.”
“I’m working on it.”
“Slowly.”
“I’ve been busy.”
They left the bank using an armored vehicle owned by a private security contractor Nicholas trusted.
The documents were copied digitally and sent to three separate attorneys.
Nicholas also contacted a federal prosecutor his father had once known.
Not local police.
Not Bellmore security.
Nobody connected to Nashville business networks.
By noon, the evidence was being reviewed.
But it was not enough.
The old records tied Nathan to historical crimes.
They did not prove the current smuggling operation.
Claire’s audit did.
Unfortunately, Bellmore’s servers were already being wiped.
Her access had been terminated.
Martin’s too.
Eric Harlan had disappeared.
Nathan Bellmore issued a company memo claiming a “cybersecurity incident” had compromised financial records.
Claire read it twice.
“He’s destroying everything.”
Martin nodded.
“Unless we get the shipping manifests.”
Nicholas looked at him.
“Where?”
“Bellmore’s private logistics center.”
“Location?”
Martin hesitated.
“Lebanon.”
Nicholas knew it.
A warehouse thirty miles east of Nashville.
Romano Freight trucks passed through regularly.
Claire looked at the old documents.
“Antonio mentioned a terminal outside Lebanon.”
Martin nodded.
“Same property. Nathan bought it through a shell corporation.”
Nicholas stood.
“No.”
Claire frowned.
“No what?”
“You’re not going.”
“I didn’t say I was.”
“You were about to.”
“I was thinking it.”
“I could see it.”
“That is incredibly irritating.”
“The manifests are in a secured archive,” Martin said. “Claire knows the indexing system.”
Nicholas glared at him.
Martin shrugged.
“I’m old. Not suicidal. I’d rather tell the truth.”
Claire crossed her arms.
“I’m going.”
“No.”
“Nicholas.”
“No.”
“Protection without truth is control.”
He stared.
She used his own words deliberately.
Marco coughed into his fist to hide a laugh.
Nicholas looked at him.
“Something funny?”
“No, boss.”
Claire raised an eyebrow.
Nicholas exhaled.
“Fine.”
Her smile appeared.
“Under conditions.”
It vanished.
“Of course.”
They did not break into the warehouse.
Claire insisted on a legitimate approach.
Martin still possessed archived compliance credentials tied to a third-party regulatory contractor.
The credentials could trigger an official inspection request.
Once logged, deleting records would become legally dangerous.
The plan was simple.
Too simple.
Claire hated simple plans.
At 6:20 p.m., she and Martin entered through the front office dressed as compliance auditors.
Nicholas waited nearby with Marco.
Claire wore a microphone.
For fifteen minutes, everything worked.
Reception verified the inspection code.
A warehouse supervisor named Trent Lawson escorted them to a records terminal.
Claire entered the archived manifest system.
There.
Sixteen shipments.
Bellmore shell vendors.
Romano Freight vehicle IDs.
Authorization approval:
D. ROMANO.
Claire’s heart sank.
Daniel.
She copied the records to an encrypted government portal.
Thirty percent.
Forty-two.
Fifty-eight.
Then the screen locked.
ACCESS REVOKED.
Trent Lawson stepped away from the door.
His expression had changed.
“Problem?”
Claire smiled.
“Minor system issue.”
The door behind them opened.
Eric Harlan entered.
Claire’s blood went cold.
“Well,” Eric said. “You really don’t know when to stop.”
Martin stood.
Eric pointed to a chair.
“Sit.”
“No.”
Two security guards appeared.
Martin sat.
Claire remained standing.
Eric smiled.
“You were always difficult.”
“And you were always overpaid.”
His smile vanished.
“Where is Nicholas?”
“Probably somewhere expensive.”
“You think he cares what happens to you?”
Claire’s fear rose.
But she remembered Nicholas sitting awake all night watching a hotel door.
“Yes.”
Eric studied her.
That confidence bothered him.
Good.
“What did you upload?”
“Quarterly tax forms.”
“Claire.”
“Eric.”
He stepped closer.
“You don’t understand the people you’re dealing with.”
“I understand fake invoices.”
“This is bigger.”
“I gathered that when someone tried entering my hotel room.”
Eric’s eyes flickered.
Confirmation.
Claire caught it.
“You ordered that.”
He said nothing.
Her microphone transmitted everything.
Hopefully.
Eric moved toward a cabinet.
“We’re leaving.”
“Where?”
“To meet Mr. Bellmore.”
Claire’s mouth dried.
Then every light in the warehouse went out.
Darkness.
A shout.
Footsteps.
A crash.
Claire dropped immediately.
Nicholas had told her what to do.
Stay down.
Do not run toward noise.
Wait for his voice.
Five seconds later she heard it.
“Claire.”
She stood.
“Nicholas.”
He found her in the dark.
His hand closed around hers.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Martin?”
“Here.”
Emergency lights came on.
Marco had restrained one guard.
The other had fled.
Eric was gone.
Nicholas pulled Claire toward him.
For one second, he forgot everyone else existed.
His hand touched the back of her head.
Her forehead pressed against his chest.
He breathed once.
Hard.
Then released her.
“You scared me.”
Claire looked up.
“You came.”
His expression seemed almost offended.
“Of course I came.”
Martin cleared his throat.
“We should probably leave before romance becomes a tactical disadvantage.”
Claire stepped away quickly.
Nicholas glared.
Martin smiled.
They recovered partial records.
Enough to prove current fraud.
Not enough to tie Nathan personally.
Daniel’s authorization appeared repeatedly.
Nicholas said little during the drive.
Claire watched him.
“Talk to me.”
“My uncle signed them.”
“Yes.”
“He taught me to drive.”
She waited.
“He came to every birthday after my father died.”
Nicholas stared through the window.
“He told me Antonio’s death wasn’t my fault.”
Claire understood.
The betrayal was not corporate.
It was family.
When they reached the secure property, Nicholas went outside alone.
Claire followed ten minutes later.
He stood near a fence overlooking dark fields.
“You’re bad at following instructions,” he said.
“I know.”
“You should work on that.”
“You first.”
He almost smiled.
Claire stood beside him.
“My father left when I was twelve,” she said.
Nicholas looked at her.
“He didn’t die. He just decided another life was easier.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I spent years wondering what I had done.”
“You were a child.”
“I know that now.”
She looked toward the fields.
“But betrayal makes you rewrite every good memory.”
Nicholas remained silent.
“So don’t do that tonight.”
“What?”
“Don’t let Daniel steal every good thing your father gave you.”
Nicholas turned toward her.
The distance between them was small.
Claire’s breathing changed.
His did too.
He lifted one hand.
Stopped.
“May I?”
The question mattered more than the touch.
Claire nodded.
Nicholas brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
His fingers lingered.
Claire looked at his mouth.
Then his phone rang.
They both closed their eyes.
“Of course,” Claire whispered.
Nicholas answered.
Marco’s voice was urgent.
“Boss. We found Daniel.”
“Where?”
“Your Nashville office.”
Nicholas frowned.
“Doing what?”
“Waiting for you.”
They drove there immediately.
Daniel Romano sat alone in Nicholas’s private office.
Sixty-five.
Silver hair.
Expensive suit.
Tired eyes.
He stood when Nicholas entered.
“Nicky.”
“Don’t.”
Daniel looked at Claire.
“You must be the auditor.”
“She has a name.”
Daniel nodded.
“Claire.”
Nicholas placed the manifests on the desk.
“Your authorization.”
Daniel looked at them.
“Yes.”
Claire stared.
No denial.
Nicholas’s voice dropped.
“You helped Nathan.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Eight years.”
Nicholas looked devastated despite trying not to show it.
“Why?”
Daniel sat down.
“Because Nathan had something I needed.”
“What?”
“My son.”
Nicholas froze.
Claire knew Nicholas had a cousin named Luca who had supposedly died from an overdose eight years earlier.
Daniel continued.
“Luca didn’t overdose.”
Nicholas whispered, “What are you saying?”
“Nathan took him.”
“Luca is alive?”
Daniel looked at his nephew.
“I don’t know.”
Nicholas stepped closer.
“You helped that man use my company because he threatened Luca?”
“At first.”
“At first?”
Daniel’s face crumpled.
“Then I learned Luca had been working for him voluntarily.”
Nicholas recoiled.
Daniel continued.
“I was already trapped.”
“You could have told me.”
“I thought I could fix it.”
“You lied to me for eight years.”
“I know.”
Nicholas turned away.
Claire watched him struggle not to break.
Daniel reached into his jacket slowly.
Marco stepped forward.
“It’s paper.”
He placed an envelope on the desk.
“Nathan contacted me today. He thinks I’m still loyal.”
Nicholas didn’t move.
“He wants the evidence from Antonio’s box.”
“Where?”
“He gave me a meeting location.”
Nicholas looked down.
Inside the envelope was an address.
An abandoned riverfront terminal.
And a time.
Midnight.
May you like
On the bottom of the paper, Nathan Bellmore had added one handwritten sentence.
BRING CLAIRE BENNETT, OR SHE WON’T LIVE TO SEE MORNING.
