Chapter 4 - THE NIGHT THE MARINO EMPIRE BURNED
The explosion happened at 11:08 p.m.
Brooklyn.
A freight warehouse near the river.
By midnight, two trucks had been burned in Queens, a gambling room in the Bronx was raided by masked men, and Roman’s senior accountant had been taken from his home.
Bellandi was not attacking randomly.
He was using a map.
Sabrina’s map.
Roman stood near Elena’s hospital window listening to reports.
Every instinct told him to leave.
Command.
Retaliate.
Kill.
Elena watched him.
“Sit down.”
He turned.
“What?”
“Sit.”
“Elena—”
“If you go out there angry, Bellandi gets exactly what he wants.”
Roman stared.
“You’re in a hospital bed.”
“And still thinking more clearly than you.”
He almost laughed.
Almost.
Marco arrived carrying maps and account summaries.
The three of them spread everything across Elena’s over-bed table.
A nurse entered, saw it, and said:
“This is not a conference room.”
Elena replied:
“I know. They’re poorly decorated.”
The nurse did not laugh.
After she left, Elena studied the attack locations.
“Bellandi isn’t destroying them.”
Roman frowned.
“He blew up a warehouse.”
“An empty warehouse.”
Marco looked closer.
She was right.
The Brooklyn property was undergoing renovation.
Few records.
No inventory.
The trucks were old.
The gambling room held cash, but only about four hundred thousand.
“He’s making noise,” Elena said.
“To pull men away from somewhere else.”
Roman looked at her.
“Where?”
She traced the map.
“Emergency reserves.”
Marco froze.
Roman’s eyes hardened.
During war, Marino captains moved cash, client records, account books, and route documents to hardened locations.
Bellandi knew that.
“He wants the books.”
Elena nodded.
“He doesn’t want to kill your organization.”
She looked at Roman.
“He wants to replace you.”
Silence.
Roman asked:
“What doesn’t he know?”
Elena hesitated.
Then looked at Marco.
Marco looked surprised.
“You’re telling him?”
“We’re out of time.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“What?”
Elena reached into her hospital bag and removed a handwritten card.
Numbers.
Symbols.
A name Roman recognized.
Vale-Mercer Trust.
“My father had no money,” Elena said.
“This isn’t my father.”
She looked at Roman.
“It’s yours.”
Roman stared.
“Vittorio?”
Before his death, Roman’s father had hidden emergency funds.
Roman knew some.
Not this.
“Elena.”
“Your father knew eventually someone would come after the family accounts. He created a legitimate trust through my mother’s law firm.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
Marco laughed softly.
Elena looked at him.
“What?”
“One hundred eighty million when Vittorio died.”
Roman stopped.
“What?”
“Probably more now.”
Roman stared at his wife.
“You knew about this?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Seven years.”
“You never told me?”
“Your father made me promise.”
Roman almost became angry.
Then stopped.
Because apparently secret money Elena had hidden from him was one more thing she had protected better than he had.
“Where are the documents?”
Elena looked uncomfortable.
“What?”
“Where?”
She sighed.
“My wedding dress.”
Roman stared.
“What?”
“The originals are sewn into the lining.”
Marco laughed.
Roman looked at him.
“Stop enjoying this.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you aren’t.”
The wedding dress was at Ashwood.
The estate.
The house Sabrina had just abandoned.
Or appeared to abandon.
Roman understood first.
“She knows.”
“Maybe.”
Elena shook her head.
“She searched my room before.”
“How do you know?”
“Things moved.”
“You never told me.”
“Add it to the list.”
Fair.
They needed the documents.
But walking into Ashwood would be stupid.
So Elena created a better plan.
Leak false information that Roman was moving the emergency reserve from the estate at dawn.
Bellandi would attack whatever convoy appeared.
Meanwhile, a smaller team would enter through the north service road and retrieve the dress.
Roman stared at her.
“When did you become better at this than me?”
“Nine years of listening to men talk too loudly.”
At 4:30 a.m., the false convoy left Ashwood.
Bellandi men appeared twelve minutes later.
Police were not involved.
Yet.
Roman still had too many illegal operations to invite them into everything.
Marco’s loyal team entered the estate.
They found the wedding dress.
The lining had been cut.
Documents gone.
Roman’s phone rang.
Marco.
“Sabrina was here.”
Elena closed her eyes.
“Did she take them?”
“Looks like.”
Roman looked at Elena.
Something was wrong.
She stared at the map again.
“Sabrina knew we’d check the dress.”
“Yes.”
“And Bellandi knew about the convoy.”
“Yes.”
“Too obvious.”
“What?”
Elena reached for her phone.
“Where’s Vivien?”
Roman frowned.
“With Daniel Mercer.”
“Why?”
“She left earlier to help move him.”
Elena looked up.
“What?”
Roman’s stomach dropped.
“Daniel has copies.”
“Yes.”
She opened location sharing.
Vivien’s phone was moving south.
Toward Manhattan.
Not Daniel’s safe office.
Toward the river.
“Elena.”
Her face went white.
“She left twenty minutes ago.”
Roman called.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Then Vivien’s number called him back.
Roman answered.
“Mother?”
A man laughed.
Luca Bellandi.
“Roman.”
Roman’s entire body went cold.
“Where is she?”
“Alive.”
Elena gripped the blanket.
“And Mercer?” Roman asked.
“Also alive.”
“What do you want?”
Bellandi chuckled.
“Your wife.”
Roman’s eyes snapped toward Elena.
“No.”
Bellandi continued.
“Pier Seventeen. Six o’clock.”
“Not happening.”
“Then bury your mother.”
Roman’s hand tightened around the phone.
Bellandi added:
“Elena comes alone.”
The call ended.
Roman turned.
“No.”
Elena was already pulling the IV tape from her arm.
“Elena.”
“No.”
“You are thirty-five weeks pregnant, bleeding, and under observation.”
“I know.”
“You are not going.”
She stopped.
Looked at him.
“You still think protecting someone means deciding for them.”
Roman froze.
She continued:
“Your mother is there because she helped me.”
“I’ll go.”
“He wants me.”
“He wants leverage.”
“Exactly.”
Elena stood slowly.
Pain crossed her face.
Roman moved toward her.
She held up one hand.
“I can walk.”
He stopped.
Another lesson.
Elena picked up her coat.
Roman looked at her for a long moment.
Then said:
“Fine.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“You’re going.”
May you like
He reached for his own jacket.
“And I’m going with you.”
