Chapter 12 - The Night Baltimore Turned Against Roman
Victoria Calder had been declared dead eighteen years earlier.
Roman was getting tired of funerals that lied.
She descended the staircase.
“I can explain.”
Roman laughed once.
“No.”
Victoria stopped.
Sarah recognized her.
“You.”
Nora looked between them.
Victoria’s expression hardened.
“You were supposed to disappear.”
Sarah stepped forward.
“So were you.”
Roman took the necklace.
A small gold star.
His mother had worn it every day.
“How did you get this?”
Victoria’s eyes filled.
“Isabella gave it to me.”
“Before or after you sold her location?”
“I didn’t.”
“Dominic?”
Dominic looked uncertain.
“My father only said someone from the family.”
Victoria shook her head.
“It was Vincent’s brother, Anthony.”
Roman frowned.
Anthony had died before Roman was born.
“That’s impossible.”
“He didn’t die.”
Roman nearly laughed.
“Of course.”
Victoria explained.
Anthony Calder had created the trafficking network with Charles.
Vincent discovered it too late.
Isabella threatened to expose both men.
Anthony sold her location.
Charles ordered the massacre.
Vincent’s reckless command gave them cover.
“Where is Anthony?”
Victoria looked at Sarah.
“Ask her.”
Sarah closed her eyes.
“I killed him.”
Nora stared at her mother.
Sarah’s voice remained steady.
“Eleven years ago. The night I supposedly died.”
Anthony found her.
He tried to kill Caleb.
Sarah fought back.
Anthony fell down a staircase.
Mercer helped Sarah disappear because Charles would retaliate.
Nora struggled to absorb it.
“You left because you killed someone?”
“I left because Charles knew I had.”
“You could have taken us.”
“He would have followed.”
“He followed anyway!”
Sarah had no defense.
Nora walked away.
Roman followed her outside.
The first light of morning touched the estate.
For once, neither spoke about danger.
Nora sat on the steps.
Roman sat beside her.
“I don’t know how to forgive her.”
“You don’t have to today.”
“I wanted her alive for eleven years.”
“I know.”
“Now she is, and I’m angry.”
“You’re allowed.”
Nora looked at him.
“Are you?”
“What?”
“Allowed to be angry.”
Roman thought.
“I’ve been angry most of my life.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He understood.
Anger as armor was easy.
Anger as grief was not.
“No,” he admitted. “I don’t think I ever was.”
Nora touched his hand.
Roman looked down.
Their fingers slowly intertwined.
No declaration.
No kiss.
Not yet.
Inside, Caleb watched through the window.
Evelyn stood beside him.
“Are they going to kiss?”
Caleb whispered.
Evelyn nearly laughed.
“Probably not.”
“That’s disappointing.”
For several days, the danger seemed to retreat.
Charles remained in federal custody.
His network unraveled.
But Roman’s own empire came under scrutiny.
News outlets called him everything from crime lord to informant.
Former allies considered him a traitor.
Enemies saw weakness.
Baltimore turned on Roman Calder from every direction.
He did not run.
He gave testimony.
He surrendered illegal holdings.
He established legal ownership structures for the docks.
Dominic asked, “What will be left?”
Roman looked toward the kitchen, where Nora and Caleb argued over pancake shapes.
“Enough.”
Then someone bombed one of his warehouses.
No casualties.
A warning.
On the wall across from the blast someone painted:
CALDERS DON’T CONFESS.
Roman knew the message was not from Charles.
Another faction had risen.
Anthony’s old network.
And someone was leading it.
That evening, Victoria disappeared.
Roman found her room empty.
On the bed lay Isabella’s necklace.
Beneath it:
I’M SORRY.
Nora entered.
“Roman.”
He handed her the note.
“She ran.”
“Or someone took her.”
Security footage showed Victoria leaving voluntarily.
She entered a black car.
The driver’s face appeared for two seconds.
Dominic froze the frame.
Sarah gasped.
Nora stared.
Roman whispered, “That’s impossible.”
The driver was Vincent Calder.
Roman’s father.
May you like
Dead for fourteen years.
The car disappeared toward Pier Nine.
