Chapter 2 - She Thought Her Cruel Ex Had Simply Found Her by Accident—Until a Secret Payment Revealed Someone Had Been Watching Her Marriage for Eighteen MonthsBy midnight, Roman's home no longer felt like home.
It felt like a crime scene.
Sadi sat barefoot at the kitchen island while Arthur and four security specialists moved through the house.
Her knee was swollen.
Roman had insisted on having a doctor examine it.
She had insisted on walking downstairs afterward without help.
Marriage required compromise.
Apparently theirs consisted largely of Roman offering unnecessary assistance and Sadi refusing it.
“Your schedule was accessed at 9:14 this morning,” Arthur said.
“By whom?”
“We don't know.”
Roman stood near the window.
“Someone knows.”
Arthur ignored the threat hiding inside the sentence.
“The login originated from inside the residence.”
Sadi frowned.
“How many people have access?”
“Fourteen.”
Roman turned.
“Reduce it.”
“To how many?”
“Zero.”
Sadi sighed.
“Roman.”
He looked at her.
“You cannot solve every security problem by locking everything.”
“I can solve several.”
“That's not the point.”
“It frequently is.”
Arthur coughed into his fist to hide a smile.
Roman glared.
Arthur immediately became fascinated by his tablet.
Sadi looked at the list.
Housekeeper.
Cook.
Security.
Personal assistants.
Drivers.
Maintenance.
One name made her pause.
Mara Quinn.
Roman's executive assistant.
Mara had worked for him for nine years.
She had been one of the first people to treat Sadi with respect when she entered Roman's world.
“Not Mara.”
Roman followed her gaze.
“Everyone gets investigated.”
“You trust her.”
“I trusted everyone on that list yesterday.”
Sadi hated the logic.
The next morning, Trevor was released pending charges.
Chloe ended their engagement before lunch.
By afternoon, three newspapers had obtained video from the boutique.
Sadi watched herself fall to the floor on television.
She hated it.
Not because of embarrassment.
Because commentators kept calling her Roman Veyron's mysterious wife.
As if that were the most important thing about her.
Not her name.
Not the assault.
Not Trevor.
Roman turned off the television.
“Thank you.”
He sat across from her.
“North Meridian.”
Sadi's stomach tightened.
“What did you find?”
“Hale & Crowe handled corporate restructuring for them.”
“Trevor personally?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Thirty-one months.”
Three years.
Almost exactly how long ago Trevor had left her.
Sadi stared.
“Roman.”
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
She stood.
“Trevor left me three years ago.”
“Yes.”
“He stole six hundred dollars.”
Roman's expression darkened.
“We've discussed that.”
“That's not what matters.”
“What does?”
“He got hired by Hale & Crowe three weeks later.”
Roman became still.
“How do you know?”
“I stalked his LinkedIn page for six months after he left.”
Roman blinked.
“What?”
“I was heartbroken, not dignified.”
His mouth moved.
“Don't smile.”
“I'm not.”
“You are.”
“A little.”
She continued.
“Trevor had mediocre grades. No major connections. Hale & Crowe was completely out of his league.”
Roman stood.
“You think North Meridian arranged his job.”
“I think we should find out.”
They did.
Trevor's employment file contained a recommendation from an executive named Leonard Shaw.
Roman knew him.
Shaw had once served as financial controller for Veyron Maritime.
He disappeared after Roman's brother, Matteo, was killed.
Roman had believed Shaw fled to South America.
He hadn't.
He had changed his name.
And worked through North Meridian.
Sadi looked at Roman.
“Why would they care about Trevor?”
Roman stared at the photograph.
“Maybe they didn't.”
“Then?”
“They cared about you.”
The room became cold.
Sadi laughed uneasily.
“I was a waitress.”
“You were Matteo's bookkeeper.”
She stopped.
That part of her life felt ancient.
Before Trevor.
Before Roman.
At nineteen, Sadi had worked nights at a waterfront restaurant.
The owner had noticed she was good with numbers.
Eventually she helped reconcile accounts.
One regular customer, Matteo Veyron, sometimes brought her messy expense ledgers.
She had thought he owned a shipping company.
She had no idea who his brother was.
Then Matteo died.
Sadi lost the side job.
Life continued.
“Matteo trusted me with grocery receipts.”
Roman shook his head.
“No.”
“What?”
“He trusted you with something else.”
Roman disappeared into his study.
He returned carrying an old notebook.
Sadi recognized it immediately.
Matteo's.
Roman opened the final page.
There was her name.
SADI KELLER KNOWS WHERE THE ORIGINALS ARE. SHE DOESN'T KNOW THAT SHE KNOWS.
Sadi stared.
“What does that mean?”
“I've spent five years trying to understand.”
“You never showed me this.”
“I didn't want to drag you into Matteo's death.”
“Roman.”
“I know.”
“No.”
Her anger rose.
“You married me.”
“Yes.”
“You knew my connection to Matteo before we met?”
Roman didn't answer quickly enough.
Sadi stepped backward.
“How long?”
“Sadi.”
“How long?”
“Before our first date.”
The betrayal landed quietly.
Worse because of that.
“You investigated me.”
“Yes.”
“You approached me because of Matteo.”
“At first.”
Her face burned.
“At first?”
“I needed to know what you knew.”
“So our meeting wasn't accidental.”
“No.”
Sadi laughed once.
It hurt.
“All this time.”
“I fell in love with you.”
“That doesn't change how it started.”
“I know.”
“Did you ever plan to tell me?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
Roman had no answer.
Sadi picked up her bag.
He moved instinctively.
Then stopped himself.
“Where are you going?”
“My apartment.”
“You don't have one anymore.”
“I kept the lease on the studio above my old alteration shop.”
Roman stared.
“You told me you canceled it.”
“I told you I moved out.”
For once, she enjoyed surprising him.
“Sadi, someone accessed your schedule.”
“And someone manipulated my life before I even met my husband.”
His face tightened.
“That was me.”
“Yes.”
“I never lied about loving you.”
“No. You just lied about why you were standing in front of me when it started.”
He looked wounded.
She hated that she cared.
“Don't follow me.”
“Sadi—”
“No.”
Roman stopped.
The old Roman would have sent security.
Ordered a car.
Controlled the exits.
This Roman simply asked:
“Can Arthur follow at a distance?”
She considered.
“Yes.”
His shoulders lowered.
“Thank you.”
Sadi left.
The studio apartment smelled like dust and old fabric.
She sat on the floor.
For an hour, she cried.
Then she got angry.
Anger was more useful.
She opened boxes.
Matteo.
What had he meant?
She knows where the originals are.
Sadi remembered his habits.
He hated banks.
Loved riddles.
Once told her:
“If you ever want to hide something, put it somewhere everyone looks and nobody sees.”
Her eyes moved toward the old sewing machine.
Sadi froze.
Matteo had once given her a coat.
Ugly brown wool.
She had kept it because she couldn't afford another.
Years later, she had stored it.
She ripped open the closet.
There.
Brown wool.
She searched the lining.
Nothing.
Then she found an old repair.
Three stitches.
Different thread.
Sadi cut it open.
A brass key fell into her palm.
Attached was a tiny metal tag.
314.
Her phone rang.
Roman.
She ignored it.
Again.
Ignored.
Then Arthur called.
She answered.
“What?”
“Mrs. Veyron, get away from the window.”
Her blood froze.
“Why?”
“Now.”
Glass shattered.
Sadi dropped.
A bullet struck the wall.
Arthur burst through the door seconds later.
He dragged her into the hallway.
Another shot.
Then silence.
Roman arrived eleven minutes later.
He looked at the bullet hole.
Then at Sadi.
He crossed the room.
Stopped three feet away.
His hands were shaking.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Can I touch you?”
The question almost destroyed her.
She nodded.
Roman pulled her against him.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Sadi opened her hand.
The brass key lay in her palm.
“I found what Matteo wanted me to find.”
Roman stared.
Locker 314 belonged to an old private railway storage facility near the waterfront.
Police accompanied them.
Inside sat one metal case.
The contents changed everything.
Financial records.
Photographs.
Audio recordings.
Matteo had discovered that Leonard Shaw had stolen more than forty-eight million dollars from Veyron companies.
But the theft wasn't the worst part.
Shaw had financed violent takeovers of independent waterfront businesses.
Matteo intended to expose him.
Then Matteo died.
Roman had spent years believing a rival family ordered the murder.
He had retaliated.
Men went to prison.
Businesses collapsed.
Families were destroyed.
All based on a lie.
Matteo's final recording named the real person who had authorized Shaw.
Roman's father.
Alessandro Veyron.
The man Roman had worshiped.
The man who had supposedly died grieving his oldest son.
Sadi watched Roman listen.
His father's voice came through the recording.
Cold.
Clear.
Matteo is becoming sentimental. Handle it.
Roman stopped the audio.
He walked away.
Sadi followed.
“Roman.”
“My father killed my brother.”
“Yes.”
“And I punished innocent people.”
“You acted on false information.”
“I still acted.”
He looked at her.
“I became exactly what he wanted.”
“No.”
Roman laughed bitterly.
“You don't know what I've done.”
“Then tell the truth.”
He stared.
“To whom?”
“Everyone.”
That terrified him more than any enemy.
Before he could answer, Arthur entered.
“We have another problem.”
“What?”
“Trevor Hale is gone.”
Sadi frowned.
“Gone where?”
“We don't know.”
Arthur handed Roman a photograph.
Security footage showed Trevor leaving his apartment.
Beside him stood Mara Quinn.
Roman's trusted assistant.
Mara.
May you like
The person who had accessed Sadi's schedule.
And in Trevor's hand was a copy of the brass key.
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