Chapter 3 - THE BOTTLE OF SLEEPING PILLS
The back room of Sebastian Romano's restaurant smelled of leather, expensive cigars, and stale fear.
I sat on a velvet sofa, still barefoot, holding a cup of hot black coffee.
Through the glass partition, I could see Daniel standing guard over Louise and Chloe in the far corner of the main dining room. They looked terrified. They should be.
Sebastian walked into the office, carrying a small, dark wooden box. He set it on the mahogany desk and sat opposite me.
“I had my men check your house,” Sebastian said quietly.
I stiffened. “Is Graham there?”
“No. He’s currently at the police precinct, filing an emergency injunction to have you involuntarily committed for psychiatric evaluation.”
Panic clawed at my throat. “He’s going to win. He has Louise’s statement. He has my medical records.”
“He has forged medical records,” Sebastian corrected smoothly. “And Louise is currently reconsidering her statement, given that the alternative is a very long conversation with my associates about her husband’s gambling debts.”
He opened the wooden box on the desk.
Inside were three items my men had retrieved from my house.
My missing car keys.
My cell phone.
And a small, orange prescription bottle.
Sebastian picked up the bottle.
“You said Graham insisted you take this medication every night?”
I nodded, my stomach churning. “He said Dr. Evans prescribed it for the headaches and the sleepwalking.”
Sebastian turned the bottle around.
The label read: Mara Tate. Zolpidem 10mg. Take one tablet nightly.
“I had a private pharmacist analyze the remaining pills,” Sebastian said, his voice deadening.
I looked at him, my pulse racing. “Are they sleeping pills?”
“Yes,” Sebastian replied. “But they aren’t ten milligrams.”
He placed the bottle on the desk.
“They are fifty milligrams. Compounded in a private lab. He’s been overdosing you every single night. That’s why you were so confused during the day. That’s why you couldn't remember conversations.”
A cold sweat broke out across my body.
Graham hadn't just been gaslighting me. He had been systematically poisoning me.
“He was destroying my mind,” I whispered, tears welling in my eyes. “Why didn't he just kill me?”
Sebastian’s jaw clenched. The muscles in his neck jumped, the dark tattoos shifting with the tension.
“Because if you die, your assets go into probate,” Sebastian explained coldly. “If you are declared mentally incompetent, he becomes your conservator. He gets immediate access to the architectural firm, your bank accounts, and your inheritance. He wanted your money, Mara, but he didn't want the police investigating a murder.”
I stared at the orange bottle. The instrument of my torture.
“We have to go to the police,” I said, my voice gaining strength. “This is proof.”
Sebastian shook his head slowly.
“The police will see a husband who accidentally gave his wife the wrong dosage. He’ll claim the pharmacy made a mistake. He’ll use his money and influence to drag this out in court for years while you sit in a locked psychiatric ward.”
“Then what do we do?” I demanded, the anger finally overriding the fear.
Sebastian leaned forward, resting his tattooed hands on the desk.
“We don't fight him in a courtroom, Mara. We fight him in the dark.”
He pressed a button on his desk phone.
“Daniel. Bring the assistant in.”
A moment later, the door opened. Daniel shoved Chloe into the room. She was still crying, clutching her red coat tightly around herself.
“Sit,” Sebastian commanded.
Chloe collapsed into a chair, trembling violently.
Sebastian didn't look at her with pity. He looked at her like a tool he was about to use.
“You’re pregnant with Graham Tate’s child,” Sebastian stated.
Chloe nodded frantically. “Yes. I’m three months along.”
“Does Graham want the child?”
Chloe sobbed, burying her face in her hands. “No. He gave me fifty thousand dollars to get an abortion and disappear. He said a baby would ruin his plans for the firm.”
“Did you take the money?”
She looked up, her eyes wide with shame. “Yes. But I didn't get the procedure. I couldn't do it. I used the money to hide in a motel.”
I stared at the young woman. She was foolish, selfish, and terrified. But she was carrying a child.
Sebastian pulled a sleek silver laptop from his desk drawer and turned the screen toward Chloe.
“Graham Tate’s architectural firm is currently bidding on the city’s largest municipal contract. A three-hundred-million-dollar development project in the financial district.”
Chloe sniffled, nodding. “Yes. It’s all he cares about. If he gets that contract, the firm goes national.”
“To win a municipal contract, a firm must undergo a rigorous financial audit,” Sebastian explained, his voice smooth and dangerous. “They look for hidden debts, offshore accounts, and unexplained losses.”
Sebastian looked at Chloe.
“Where did he get the fifty thousand dollars he gave you?”
Chloe froze.
Her eyes darted nervously.
“I... I don't know.”
Sebastian stood up. He walked slowly around the desk until he was standing directly behind Chloe’s chair.
“My family runs the construction unions in this city,” Sebastian said softly, leaning down to whisper near her ear. “I know every bribe, every kickback, and every missing dollar. So I will ask you again.”
He placed his hand on the back of her chair.
“Where did he get the money, Chloe?”
Chloe broke.
“He embezzled it!” she cried. “He set up a dummy vendor account for the new stadium project. He’s been siphoning money for two years to pay off his gambling debts and cover his expenses! The files are on his private server at the office!”
The room went entirely silent.
Graham Tate wasn't just a monster to me. He was a thief.
Sebastian looked at me, a dark, triumphant smile touching the corners of his mouth.
“A husband cheating on his wife is a domestic dispute,” Sebastian said, walking back to his desk. “A CEO stealing from a city-funded stadium project is a federal crime.”
He closed the laptop.
“Tomorrow morning, the audit committee reviews his proposal.”
Sebastian looked at Daniel.
“I want Graham Tate’s private server drained by midnight. I want every stolen dollar documented and sent directly to the District Attorney.”
Daniel grinned. “Consider it done, Boss.”
“Wait,” I interrupted, standing up.
Sebastian stopped, turning to look at me.
“What about the conservatorship?” I asked, my heart pounding. “If he’s arrested, he’s still legally my husband. He can still try to claim I’m unstable to control my assets from prison.”
Sebastian’s expression darkened.
“You’re right.”
He walked over to a small safe set into the wall, punched in a code, and pulled out a heavy, manila envelope.
He tossed it onto the desk.
“To break his conservatorship claim instantly, you don't just need proof he’s lying,” Sebastian said. “You need proof you are already under the legal protection of someone far more powerful.”
I frowned, looking at the envelope.
“What is that?”
Sebastian looked at me, his dark eyes entirely serious.
“Those are marriage annulment papers for Graham Tate. And a marriage license for us.”
My jaw dropped.
May you like
“You want me to marry you?” I breathed.
“I want to make you a Romano,” Sebastian corrected softly. “Because no judge, no doctor, and no police officer in this city will ever dare question the sanity of my wife.”
