Chapter 6 - The Truth Roman Didn't Tell Her
By Monday morning, the case was much larger than Sadi.
Westbridge Capital had used fraudulent guarantees in at least nine business loans.
Some signatures belonged to spouses.
Others to adult children.
Two belonged to people who had been dead when the documents were supposedly signed.
Sadi should have felt relieved.
Instead she felt sick.
Because the larger the case became, the clearer one thing was.
Dominic Caruso had not targeted her family by accident.
He had built a system around desperate people.
The detective asked Sadi to come downtown with her attorney.
Roman drove her.
He did not enter the interview room.
He waited outside.
That detail mattered.
For three hours, Sadi answered questions.
She described her mother’s confession.
Ethan’s role.
The loan.
The forged signature.
Laura Mendel sat beside her and interrupted whenever the questions became vague.
When the interview ended, Sadi stepped into the hallway exhausted.
Roman stood near the windows.
He had two coffees.
He handed her one.
Too much cinnamon.
Exactly how she liked it.
Sadi took it.
“You remembered.”
“I remember most things you tell me.”
That should have felt romantic.
Instead a new thought came.
“Do you remember when I first started working for you?”
Roman’s expression shifted.
“Yes.”
“Who hired me?”
“Mrs. Calder.”
His former house manager.
“Did you approve it?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know who my father was then?”
Roman was silent.
Sadi’s stomach dropped.
“Roman.”
“Yes.”
The hallway became too bright.
“You knew.”
“I knew your surname.”
“How much?”
“Enough to know your father owned Haddad Construction.”
“And Haddad Construction owed money connected to Caruso.”
“Not then.”
“When did you find out?”
Roman looked at the coffee in her hand.
“Six months ago.”
Sadi went still.
“You knew for six months that my family had financial connections to Caruso?”
“I knew Westbridge was buying the debt. I did not know your name had been used.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because the debt was your father’s business.”
“That is not an answer.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“I did not want to involve you in my conflict with Caruso.”
Sadi stared at him.
The words sounded familiar.
Too familiar.
I thought I was protecting you.
Her mother.
Ethan.
Now Roman.
She set the coffee on the windowsill.
“You decided for me.”
His face changed.
“I did.”
At least he did not deny it.
That made it worse in a different way.
Sadi stepped back.
“You knew something about my family that could have mattered to me, and you chose silence.”
“I had no evidence you were personally affected.”
“You had enough evidence to monitor the debt.”
“Yes.”
“Did you monitor me?”
Roman’s answer came immediately.
“No.”
She searched his face.
“Not once?”
“No surveillance. No reports. No one followed you before the rehearsal dinner.”
“Why did you agree so fast to be my boyfriend?”
He looked away for the first time.
Sadi’s heart sank.
“Roman.”
“The alibi was useful.”
“I know that.”
“And I wanted to go with you.”
“That part I know too.”
He looked back.
“But there was another reason.”
Of course there was.
Sadi’s chest hurt.
“What?”
“I wanted Caruso to believe I had no interest in the Westbridge meeting that night.”
Sadi laughed bitterly.
“So I was not just an alibi. I was theater.”
“At first.”
“Stop saying at first like the ending erases the beginning.”
Roman went silent.
The detective’s office door opened behind them.
People passed.
Phones rang.
A copier hummed.
The ordinary world continued while Sadi felt something precious crack.
Roman stepped toward her.
She lifted a hand.
He stopped.
Good.
“You keep telling me you respect my choices.”
“I do.”
“Only after you have decided what information I get to have.”
The words struck him.
She saw it.
Roman did not defend himself.
Sadi grabbed her purse.
“I need space.”
“I can take you home.”
“No.”
“Sadi.”
“I am not asking.”
He went still.
She hated the hurt in his face.
Part of her wanted to fix it.
That was the old instinct.
Make everyone comfortable.
Make yourself smaller.
No.
Roman nodded once.
“Matteo will drive you.”
“No.”
“He is outside for security, not control. You can tell him where to go.”
Sadi almost argued.
Then she remembered Caruso.
She accepted because safety was not surrender.
“Fine.”
Roman stepped aside.
Sadi walked away.
She did not look back.
She stayed with Bianca for three nights.
Roman did not call.
He sent one message.
I am sorry. I will not contact you again unless you ask.
That was all.
No flowers.
No gifts.
No dramatic appearance.
No pressure.
The silence hurt.
But unlike her family’s silence, this one had been requested.
Sadi began to understand the difference.
On the fourth morning, Ethan called.
She almost ignored it.
Then she answered.
“What?”
“I found something.”
His voice sounded exhausted.
“What?”
“When I witnessed your guarantee, there was another document attached.”
Sadi sat up.
“What document?”
“A consulting agreement.”
“With who?”
“Rossi Development.”
Sadi’s blood ran cold.
“What?”
“I thought it was unrelated. Your mother said Roman’s company had been considered as a buyer if your father defaulted.”
Sadi closed her eyes.
Roman’s company.
Her father’s debt.
Caruso.
The whole thing connected again.
“Send it to Laura.”
“I already did.”
“Thank you.”
“Sadi?”
“Yes?”
“I know you don't want anything from me.”
She waited.
“But be careful.”
Sadi’s voice became hard.
“With Roman?”
“With everyone.”
The call ended.
Ten minutes later, Laura sent the agreement.
Sadi read it twice.
Rossi Development had indeed considered purchasing a portion of Haddad Construction’s assets.
The document was six months old.
The same time Roman admitted learning about the debt.
Sadi felt betrayed all over again.
Then she noticed something.
Roman had not signed it.
The proposal had been rejected.
A handwritten note appeared on the last page.
NO TRANSACTION WHILE HADDAD EMPLOYEE REMAINS IN MY HOUSE. CONFLICT.
R.R.
Sadi stared.
Roman had known.
And rather than exploit the debt, he had refused the opportunity because she worked for him.
The truth was more complicated than betrayal.
That did not make his silence right.
But it changed the shape of it.
Laura called.
“Did you see the note?”
“Yes.”
“There’s more. Rossi Development’s legal team preserved correspondence showing Caruso tried to sell them the debt. Rossi declined.”
Sadi looked at the date.
Two days after Roman learned Westbridge was involved.
“Why?”
“According to the email, Rossi wrote, quote, ‘I will not use an employee’s family crisis as leverage.’”
Sadi closed her eyes.
That sounded like him.
Frustrating.
Controlled.
Almost decent in a world where decency had strange edges.
Laura continued.
“This evidence is useful. It supports the argument that Westbridge was shopping distressed debt to parties who might pressure borrowers.”
“Does Roman know you have it?”
“Yes. His lawyer sent it this morning after I requested records.”
Sadi looked at Roman’s last message.
I am sorry.
No explanation.
No attempt to prove he was secretly better than she thought.
He had let the evidence speak when asked.
For once, he had not decided what she should feel.
That afternoon, Sadi went back to the mansion.
Not to return to work.
Not to move in.
To talk.
Roman was in the winter garden alone.
He looked up when she entered.
For a man feared across Chicago, he looked surprisingly uncertain.
“Sadi.”
“I saw the rejected agreement.”
He nodded.
“You should have told me.”
“Yes.”
“I am still angry.”
“I know.”
“You do not get points for refusing to profit from my family’s disaster.”
“I agree.”
She stared at him.
“You are making it very hard to argue.”
“I can disagree if that helps.”
She almost smiled.
Then she became serious.
“I will not be protected through ignorance.”
Roman’s gaze held hers.
“Understood.”
“If something concerns me, you tell me.”
“Yes.”
“Even if you think it will frighten me.”
“Yes.”
“Even if you think I will leave.”
A pause.
“Yes.”
Sadi took a breath.
“And if I come back into your life, I do not come back as an employee.”
“No.”
“As someone you can order.”
“No.”
“As leverage.”
His face hardened.
“Never.”
Sadi nodded.
“Then we can have dinner.”
Roman blinked.
“Dinner?”
“One dinner.”
His mouth curved slowly.
“A real one?”
“Yes.”
“Should I make a reservation?”
Sadi shook her head.
“No private rooms. No armed men at the next table. No restaurants where people stop breathing when you walk in.”
Roman considered this.
“I know a place.”
“Do they know who you are?”
“Everyone knows who I am.”
“Roman.”
“I am working on it.”
She laughed.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
This time he did not hide it.
He handed it to her.
A message from Matteo.
CARUSO ARRESTED. FINANCIAL CRIMES WARRANTS EXECUTED AT WESTBRIDGE. MORE TO COME.
Sadi read it.
Then looked at Roman.
“You knew this was happening?”
“No.”
She studied him.
He lifted both hands.
“Full disclosure.”
Sadi handed back the phone.
“Good answer.”
The first week at Olive & Ember nearly destroyed Sadi’s confidence.
The florist delivered the wrong shade of roses.
A client changed the guest count four times.
The printer misspelled a bride’s name on one hundred menus.
On Thursday, a pipe under the studio sink burst.
Sadi sat on the floor surrounded by towels and stared at the water.
“This was a terrible idea.”
Bianca, holding a bucket, said, “You have said that about Roman, the studio, bangs in ninth grade, and learning to drive.”
“The bangs were a terrible idea.”
“True.”
The plumber arrived forty minutes later.
Not Roman’s plumber.
Sadi had chosen him herself.
That detail made her absurdly proud.
That evening Roman stopped by with dinner.
He looked at the damp floor.
“What happened?”
“Character.”
He stared.
“The floor is wet.”
“It has more character now.”
Roman put down the food.
“Do you need anything?”
The old version of him would have called six people before she answered.
The new version asked.
Sadi smiled.
“Help me move that table.”
Roman removed his jacket.
Together they carried the table away from the damp wall.
No bodyguards entered.
No contractors suddenly appeared.
Just Roman, sleeves rolled up, following her instructions.
When the table was moved, Sadi looked at him.
“You are improving.”
“At carrying furniture?”
“At asking.”
Roman’s expression softened.
“I practice.”
“With whom?”
“Matteo.”
Sadi laughed.
“I need to hear that conversation.”
“No.”
“Roman.”
“Never.”
They ate takeout sitting on the studio floor.
Sadi told him about the misspelled menus.
Roman listened as though a missing letter were a matter of national importance.
Then he said, “You handled it.”
“I cried in the supply closet.”
“That is not mutually exclusive.”
She looked at him.
“Who taught you that?”
“You.”
The answer caught her off guard.
Roman leaned back against the wall.
“You think strength means never needing help because that is what your family taught you.”
Sadi frowned.
“And you think strength means controlling every variable because that is what your life taught you.”
“Yes.”
“So we are both exhausting.”
“Yes.”
She laughed.
Roman reached for her hand.
Outside, cars moved past the storefront windows.
Inside, the studio smelled faintly of wet plaster and basil from their dinner.
It was not glamorous.
It was hers.
Sadi squeezed his fingers.
May you like
For the first time, she understood that independence did not mean doing everything alone.
It meant choosing who was allowed to stand beside her while she did it.
