Chapter 2 - The Man Behind Valerius
The emergency lights flickered red.
Penny backed into the elevator wall.
One of Roman’s guards moved in front of her while the other reached beneath his jacket.
“Stay behind me.”
The elevator doors separated by three inches.
A hand appeared in the gap.
Penny stopped breathing.
Then a familiar voice came from the other side.
“Mr. Valerius sent me.”
The guards did not relax.
“Name.”
“Luca.”
The first guard exchanged a glance with the second.
Only then did he lower his hand.
The doors opened.
A broad-shouldered man in a black coat stood in the service corridor.
“Building system was overridden,” Luca said. “Somebody tried stopping the car remotely.”
Penny looked at him.
“Bradley?”
“We don’t know.”
That answer frightened her more.
They moved through the service corridor and down a concrete staircase.
Three minutes later, Penny emerged into an underground garage.
A black SUV waited.
The rear door opened.
Roman Valerius stepped out.
Penny recognized him immediately from the image her mind had formed from his voice, though reality was more intimidating.
Silver-gray hair swept back.
White shirt open at the throat.
Charcoal vest.
Dark tattoos extending beneath his sleeves.
His face did not look surprised.
His eyes did.
They moved over Penny once, quickly, checking for injuries.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Did Bradley touch you?”
“No.”
Roman nodded.
Only then did Penny notice the second vehicle.
More men.
More black suits.
“This is your security?”
“Some of it.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“I wasn’t trying to reassure you.”
At least he was honest.
Penny held up the duffel.
“I have your stolen money in here.”
One corner of Roman’s mouth almost moved.
“The laptop?”
“Yes.”
“And the drive?”
Penny touched her pocket.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Now tell me why Bradley had your private number.”
Roman looked toward his men.
“Car.”
Penny stayed where she was.
“No.”
The guards became very still.
Roman turned back.
“No?”
“I just left one controlling man. I’m not getting into another man’s car because he says one word like I’m supposed to obey.”
For several seconds Roman simply looked at her.
Then he opened the rear door himself.
“Fair.”
Penny blinked.
“I’m asking you to get in because whoever remotely stopped that elevator knows you left Bradley’s apartment with evidence. We can argue somewhere with bullet-resistant windows.”
Penny looked at the SUV.
Then at Roman.
“Bullet-resistant?”
“Yes.”
“That was supposed to help?”
“No.”
She got in.
Roman sat opposite her.
The SUV moved.
Penny kept the duffel on her lap.
“Who are you?”
“Roman Valerius.”
“I established that.”
“I run Valerius Holdings.”
“And?”
“And several businesses that people prefer not to discuss at dinner.”
Penny stared at him.
“You’re Mafia.”
Roman’s expression did not change.
“That word covers a great many things.”
“That is the most Mafia answer you could possibly give.”
Luca coughed from the front seat.
It sounded suspiciously like suppressed laughter.
Roman ignored him.
“My family had criminal interests. Some still exist. I’ve spent years moving legitimate businesses away from them.”
“Moving away?”
“Yes.”
“Not exactly denying it.”
“No.”
Penny looked out the window.
She should have been terrified.
She was.
But oddly, Roman had done something Bradley almost never did.
He answered the question she asked.
Not perfectly.
But without making her feel stupid for asking.
Roman nodded toward the bag.
“May I see the laptop?”
“May you?”
“Yes.”
Penny studied him.
“You actually asked.”
His brow furrowed.
“Was I not supposed to?”
Something painful moved through her chest.
She handed him the laptop.
Roman placed it between them and opened it.
Penny entered the password she had seen Bradley type dozens of times.
The spreadsheet appeared.
Roman’s face hardened.
Penny leaned forward.
“These transfers originate from consulting entities. Each amount stays below internal escalation thresholds. Then the funds are divided across vendors.”
“Can you trace them?”
“Some.”
“How?”
“It’s my job.”
Roman glanced at her.
Penny pointed.
“See this? Mercer Strategic Consulting receives a payment from a legitimate subsidiary. Twenty-four hours later, the money is split. Most goes through fake vendor invoices. But this portion gets assigned to individuals.”
She scrolled.
“Here.”
P. GALLAGHER.
Roman stared at the screen.
“That’s you.”
“My name. My old address. My Social Security information.”
“You never authorized it?”
“No.”
“Did Bradley have access?”
Penny laughed without humor.
“We were applying for an apartment last year. He said he needed documents.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“How much?”
“Under my identity? At least $680,000.”
Luca looked back.
Roman said nothing.
Penny continued scrolling.
“There are others.”
“How many?”
“Twenty-three identities in this sheet.”
Roman leaned closer.
“Employees?”
“Maybe.”
“Victims?”
“Probably.”
Penny opened another tab.
“And this is where it gets strange.”
A list of dates appeared.
Roman’s eyes changed.
Penny noticed.
“You recognize them.”
“Yes.”
“What are they?”
Roman looked at her.
“Shipments.”
“Of what?”
“Luxury goods. Art. Wine. Legal imports.”
“Only legal?”
Roman held her gaze.
“Today?”
“Yes.”
“In the past?”
“No.”
Penny appreciated the distinction even though it frightened her.
She pointed to one column.
“The money is being attached to shipment identification numbers. Somebody is using legitimate cargo to create fake financial events.”
Roman’s phone rang.
He answered.
“Talk.”
A voice spoke too quietly for Penny to hear.
Roman’s expression became colder.
“When?”
Another pause.
“Who knew?”
He looked directly at Penny.
“No. Bring him in.”
Roman ended the call.
“What happened?” Penny asked.
“One of my accountants disappeared tonight.”
Penny felt sick.
“Because of this?”
“Possibly.”
“Roman, I need the police.”
“You need evidence first.”
“I have evidence.”
“You have a spreadsheet stolen from your boyfriend’s laptop.”
“Copied.”
“And your name appears on fraudulent transfers. Bradley can say you created them.”
Penny went quiet.
She knew he was right.
That was what terrified her.
Roman continued.
“If this reaches the wrong investigator before we understand it, you could become a suspect.”
“You’re telling me not to go to police?”
“I’m telling you that whoever built this scheme designed it to survive an investigation.”
Penny looked down.
“And I’m the disposable part.”
Roman did not soften the truth.
“Yes.”
The SUV entered a private garage beneath another high-rise.
Roman took Penny upstairs.
The penthouse was modern and severe, all dark wood and glass.
Two men stood near the windows.
Penny recognized them from the image: the same silent security men she had imagined when Roman spoke on the phone.
Roman gestured toward a table.
“You can work there.”
“I’m not working for you.”
“No.”
“Good.”
“You’re working for yourself.”
Penny put the laptop down.
For the next hour, she did what she knew.
Numbers were safer than people.
Numbers did not tell you your dress made you look wide.
Numbers did not order your dinner.
Numbers did not kiss your forehead after humiliating you and call it concern.
Numbers lied only when people made them.
And Penny knew how to find the lie.
At 2:13 a.m., she found one.
“Roman.”
He came over.
“This payment.”
She pointed.
“Four hundred thousand from Valerius Imports to Northstar Advisory.”
“Yes.”
“Northstar then sends three hundred ninety-two thousand to another company.”
“Which?”
Penny opened the record.
“Briarwood Capital.”
Roman stopped moving.
“You know it.”
“Yes.”
“Whose company?”
He did not answer.
Penny turned toward him.
“Roman.”
“My brother’s.”
She stared.
“You have a brother?”
“Had.”
The word hung between them.
“What happened?”
“He died six years ago.”
Penny looked back at the screen.
“Then someone is moving money through a dead man’s company.”
Roman leaned closer.
A second transaction appeared beneath it.
Same amount.
Same route.
Yesterday’s date.
Penny clicked the attached authorization record.
A digital signature opened.
Roman Valerius.
She looked at him.
“Did you approve this?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
His gaze hardened.
“I know where I was yesterday.”
Penny enlarged the metadata.
The authorization had been made from an internal Valerius terminal.
Not Bradley’s.
Not an external account.
Inside Roman’s company.
“There’s someone in your organization,” she whispered.
Roman’s phone buzzed.
He checked it.
For the first time that night, Penny saw genuine shock cross his face.
“What?”
Roman turned the phone toward her.
A security photograph filled the screen.
A man was entering the Valerius building at 11:42 p.m.
The timestamp was from twenty minutes ago.
Penny looked at Roman.
“Who is that?”
Roman did not answer immediately.
He enlarged the face.
Then he said quietly:
“My brother.”
Penny stared at him.
“You said your brother was dead.”
“He is.”
The elevator behind them chimed.
Roman turned.
May you like
The penthouse doors began opening.
And a man with Roman’s eyes stepped out.
