Chapter 3 - THE OLD PHOTOGRAPH
The heavy silver watch felt like an anchor dragging her wrist down.
Sadi stared at Roman, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"What's going to happen when the lights go out?" she whispered frantically.
Derek leaned across the table, his eyes narrowing. "Everything okay over there, Sadi? You look a little pale. Guess you're not used to eating this late?"
It was a cruel, subtle jab at her weight. A classic Derek move.
Roman didn't even look at Derek. He just kept his eyes on Sadi.
"Everything is perfect, Derek," Roman said, his voice lethally calm. "Sadi is just overwhelmed by the... ambiance."
Roman’s hand squeezed her knee under the table. A silent command. Be ready.
Sadi looked toward the kitchen doors. The man in the cheap gray suit was gone.
"Two minutes," Roman murmured, taking a sip of his water.
Sadi's mother, Diane, suddenly appeared at their table. She looked flustered, holding her large, oversized designer purse tight against her chest.
"Sadi, darling," Diane said, forcing a tight smile. "Could I speak to you in the lobby for a moment? Just us girls?"
Sadi frowned. Her mother never wanted to speak to her privately at events. She usually avoided her entirely.
"Whatever you have to say to Sadi, Diane, you can say in front of me," Roman said smoothly, leaning back in his chair.
Diane’s forced smile faltered. "It's family business, Mr. Rossi."
"I am family now," Roman replied.
Diane’s hands trembled. In her panic, she fumbled with her purse. It slipped from her grasp, hitting the hardwood floor, spilling its contents across the floor by Roman’s feet.
Lipsticks, tissues, a compact mirror, and a small, worn leather wallet scattered everywhere.
Sadi immediately ducked under the table to help her mother pick it up.
As she reached for the wallet, a small, faded photograph slipped out from a hidden fold.
Sadi picked it up, intending to shove it back inside.
But her eyes caught the image, and the breath left her lungs.
It was a picture of her father. Her kind, quiet father who had died of a sudden heart attack when she was twelve.
But he wasn't alone in the photo.
He was standing in a dimly lit warehouse, shaking hands with an older, terrifyingly familiar man.
A man who looked exactly like an older version of Roman Rossi.
"Give me that!" Diane hissed, snatching the photo from Sadi’s hand with surprising violence. Her mother's face was chalk-white with sheer terror.
Sadi slowly sat back up in her chair.
Answer One: The Moretti scout wasn't tracking Roman. Sadi’s family had a deep, hidden connection to the criminal underworld.
Open Two: Why was Sadi's father shaking hands with the former head of the Rossi crime family? And why had her mother kept it hidden for sixteen years?
"Mom," Sadi said, her voice shaking. "Why do you have a picture of Dad with..."
She glanced at Roman, who was staring intently at her mother.
Before Diane could answer, Roman checked his phone under the table.
"Ten seconds," Roman said abruptly.
He grabbed Sadi's arm. "Get under the table, Diane. Now."
"What?" Diane gasped.
Click.
The grand ballroom plunged into absolute, pitch-black darkness.
The music cut out.
For one second, there was total silence.
Then, chaos erupted.
Women screamed. Glass shattered. Tables were overturned as people panicked in the dark.
True to his word, Roman's hand clamped down on the back of Sadi's neck, forcing her forcefully but safely down to the carpeted floor beneath Table 4.
"Stay down!" Roman roared over the din.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Three suppressed gunshots echoed near the kitchen doors.
Sadi clamped her hands over her ears, squeezing her eyes shut. She was terrified, curled into a ball in her emerald dress, the heavy silver watch digging into her wrist.
Someone grabbed her ankle in the dark.
Sadi screamed, kicking out wildly.
"It's me!" Derek's voice cried out in the darkness. "Sadi, help me!"
He was cowering under the table with them, weeping like a child.
Suddenly, the emergency backup lights flickered on, casting a dim, eerie orange glow across the ballroom.
The room was a disaster zone of flipped chairs and terrified guests.
But Sadi’s eyes immediately found Roman.
He was standing by the kitchen doors, holding a sleek black pistol. At his feet lay the Moretti scout in the gray suit, unmoving.
Reversal: Roman hadn't come here to use Sadi as an alibi while his men hit the Morettis. He had come here to execute the Moretti scout himself.
Roman holstered his weapon smoothly, ignoring the screaming guests, and strode directly back to Table 4.
He reached down and hauled Sadi to her feet.
"We're leaving," Roman said.
"You shot him!" Derek shrieked from under the table, pointing a shaking finger at Roman. "You're a murderer!"
Roman didn't even look at Derek. He looked at Sadi’s mother, who was trembling against the wall.
"Your father wasn't an innocent civilian, Sadi," Roman said quietly, the words piercing through the chaos. "He was my father's most trusted accountant. And when he died, twenty million dollars went missing."
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Roman looked Sadi dead in the eyes.
"The Morettis think you have the money. And they are coming to take it back."
