Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Refused Roman Caldwell Became The Only Person He Trusted With His Biggest Secret
By the end of the second week, Roman had become a ridiculous fixture at my salvage yard.
He still arrived in expensive cars.
Still brought armed guards.
Still terrified almost everyone who saw him.
But by noon, he would be wearing steel-toed boots.
He owned three pairs now.
Because I refused to let him work in dress shoes.
He learned how to weld.
Badly.
He learned how to sand old iron.
Acceptably.
He learned how to rebuild hinges.
Surprisingly well.
But he was terrible at sorting glass.
Every time he picked up a fragile piece, he handled it like a weapon.
"You're going to break that."
"I've got it."
"You don't."
"I do."
The stained-glass panel fell apart in his hands.
I stared.
He stared at the pieces.
Then at me.
"That wasn't my fault."
I laughed.
"You just dropped a window."
"It was already damaged."
"That's not how accountability works."
He smiled.
I hated how much I liked that smile.
One rainy afternoon, he came into my office carrying a folder.
"What's that?"
He set it down.
"Your father's debt records."
I froze.
"Why?"
"Because I found something."
He opened the file.
My father's debt wasn't three hundred thousand.
It was one hundred eighty thousand.
The additional amount had been fabricated.
Interest had been inflated.
Fees duplicated.
Payments erased.
Someone had manipulated the ledger.
I stared.
"Who?"
"Your father's accountant."
"He's dead."
"I know."
"Then who changed the numbers?"
Roman looked at me.
"Someone who wanted you trapped."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
He slid another document toward me.
A payment receipt.
The original amount had been paid.
In full.
Three months before my father died.
My father's signature was at the bottom.
I stared at it.
"My father paid?"
"Yes."
"Then why was I still being chased?"
"That's the question."
A strange fear moved through me.
My father had been irresponsible.
Cruel.
Reckless.
But he hadn't been stupid.
If he'd paid the debt, why had someone continued collecting?
Roman studied me.
"Tell me everything you remember about the last month before he died."
I hesitated.
"He argued with someone."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"What did he say?"
"Something about being watched."
Roman's eyes narrowed.
"Anything else?"
"He told me if anyone came looking for a blue ledger, I should never tell them where it was."
Roman went still.
"What blue ledger?"
"I don't know."
He stood.
"Mave."
"What?"
"What else?"
"Nothing."
"Think."
I closed my eyes.
A memory surfaced.
My father in the kitchen.
Rain on the windows.
His hands shaking.
A blue notebook.
He'd hidden it beneath the floorboards.
I opened my eyes.
"The floor."
Roman stared.
"What floor?"
"The office."
We tore apart my office.
Under the old rug, we found a loose plank.
Beneath it was a narrow metal box.
The key was taped to the underside of my desk.
Inside was a blue ledger.
Roman opened it.
Pages of names.
Transactions.
Addresses.
Numbers.
Some were familiar.
Others weren't.
Then I saw one name.
Roman Caldwell.
But beside his name was not a payment.
It was a note.
DO NOT TRUST HIM.
Roman read it.
His expression didn't change.
I looked at him.
"Well."
"Well."
"That's awkward."
He closed the ledger.
"Very."
"You want to explain?"
"No."
"That's encouraging."
He sat down.
"My father knew yours."
I stared.
"What?"
"Our fathers were partners once."
I hadn't known.
"Then why did my father hate you?"
"He didn't."
"He called your family thieves."
Roman looked away.
"My father betrayed yours."
"How?"
"They were building something together."
"A business?"
"More complicated."
"What kind of business?"
Roman looked at the ledger.
"Something they couldn't sell legally."
"That's not ominous at all."
He finally met my eyes.
"My father died because of it."
I waited.
Roman continued.
"He left behind a list of names."
"The same names in this ledger?"
"Some."
"And my father had it?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because your father was trying to expose them."
I felt cold.
"You've been after my shop because of this?"
"No."
"Then why?"
"Because my people thought the ledger was here."
"But you didn't know."
"Not until now."
"Then why marry me?"
Roman looked at me.
"Because I thought the safest way to keep you alive was to put you under my protection."
My anger flared.
"You should have told me."
"You would have refused."
"I did refuse."
"Exactly."
I stared at him.
Then I realized something.
"You still haven't answered the important question."
"What?"
"Why did you really stop when I said no?"
He looked down at his hands.
For the first time, he looked uncomfortable.
"Because my mother raised me to believe that a person who can say no to me without calculating the consequences is either brave..."
He paused.
"Or honest."
"And?"
"I wanted to know which."
I smiled.
"Still testing me?"
"No."
He looked at me.
"I'm done testing you."
The statement settled between us.
Then footsteps sounded outside.
Garrett appeared in the doorway.
"Boss."
Roman straightened.
"Talk."
"We've got trouble."
"What kind?"
"Someone broke into the old Caldwell warehouse."
Roman's eyes darkened.
"What did they take?"
"Nothing."
"Then what did they leave?"
Garrett looked at me.
"A message."
He handed Roman a photograph.
It showed me sleeping in my truck.
Taken two nights earlier.
On the back, four words.
WE KNOW WHAT SHE HAS.
Roman's entire face changed.
He looked at me.
"From now on, you don't go anywhere alone."
I crossed my arms.
"Try asking."
He sighed.
"Will you please not go anywhere alone?"
I almost smiled.
"Better."
Roman nodded.
"Good."
Then Garrett's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression went pale.
He handed it to Roman.
"Your mansion."
Roman listened.
May you like
Then looked at me.
"They've taken my mother."
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