Chapter 3 - THE MAN MY HUSBAND KNEW BEFORE ME
I stared at Dante.
“What do you mean involving my father?”
His face told me he regretted saying it.
Too late.
“Dante.”
He looked at Dana.
She crossed her arms.
“You came to a lawyer’s house voluntarily.”
He sighed.
“I know.”
“Then speak voluntarily.”
Dante sat.
I remained standing.
My daughter kicked again.
Hard.
Apparently she also hated suspense.
Dante rubbed his hands together.
“Roman knew your father before he met you.”
I felt cold.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Business.”
“My father was an accountant.”
“He did forensic work.”
I knew that.
Dad had built Morgan Advisory after leaving a national accounting firm.
He investigated embezzlement, insurance fraud, corporate theft.
He rarely discussed clients.
Confidentiality mattered to him almost religiously.
“What business?”
Dante looked at me.
“Carter business.”
I stopped breathing.
“When?”
“About twelve years ago.”
Roman had told me we met by accident at a charity auction six years earlier.
He said he only knew my name because I was presenting an award.
“What did Dad investigate?”
Dante shook his head.
“I don’t know everything.”
“Then tell me what you do know.”
“Roman’s father was still alive.”
Vincent Carter.
The man who built the original Carter organization.
Feared.
Ruthless.
Dead eight years.
“Your father found irregularities in one of Vincent’s construction companies.”
My pulse changed.
“What kind?”
“Ghost payroll.”
“Union kickbacks.”
“Money routed through vendors.”
“And?”
“He confronted Vincent.”
“What happened?”
“Roman was there.”
I stared.
“How old?”
“Thirty-two.”
“And?”
Dante looked down.
“Your father threatened to report everything.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer bothered me.
Dad did not scare easily.
“Then what happened?”
“Vincent paid someone to frighten him.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
Dante looked sick.
“A man named Curtis Vale.”
The name meant nothing.
“What did Vale do?”
“Ran your father off the road.”
The room disappeared.
I heard Dana swear.
My father died in a winter car accident.
Black ice.
Rural highway.
Police report said he lost control.
No other vehicle found.
I grabbed the chair.
“You’re lying.”
Dante stood.
“No.”
“Sit down.”
He did.
My hands were shaking.
“Did Roman know?”
“Yes.”
Before me.
Before our first date.
Before he looked me in the eye and listened while I told him how my father died.
Before he held me when I cried on the anniversary.
Before he stood beside me at Dad’s grave and said:
“I wish I could have met him.”
I felt sick.
“You said Roman was there when Dad confronted Vincent.”
“Yes.”
“Did Roman know Vincent sent Vale?”
“Not until after.”
“When?”
“Same night.”
“Did he stop him?”
Dante said nothing.
I stared.
“Did Roman stop him?”
“No.”
The word gutted me.
“Why?”
“He didn’t know what Vale planned.”
“But after?”
“He found out.”
“And did what?”
“Confronted Vincent.”
“Then?”
“Vincent told him it was handled.”
I laughed.
The sound came out broken.
“Handled.”
Dante’s eyes filled.
“Roman hated him for it.”
“That must have been difficult.”
My voice was poisonous now.
“He knew my father may have been murdered and still married me.”
Dante flinched.
“Yes.”
Dana stepped closer.
“Did Roman ever tell law enforcement?”
“No.”
“Anyone?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Vincent was dying.”
I stared.
“That is not an answer.”
Dante’s voice cracked.
“Because reporting it would have destroyed the whole family.”
There it was.
Family.
That magical word powerful men used to convert cowardice into virtue.
I sat.
My daughter moved beneath my hand.
I suddenly wanted my father.
Not his trust.
Not his clever legal traps.
Him.
“Where does Claire fit?”
Dante swallowed.
“Curtis Vale worked for her father.”
I looked up sharply.
“Bennett?”
“Claire’s father, Malcolm Bennett.”
“What was he?”
“A fixer.”
“For Vincent?”
“Sometimes.”
“Claire knows?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Her father kept records.”
My pulse changed.
“Blackmail.”
Dante nodded.
“She inherited them.”
“So she has proof Roman knew.”
“Yes.”
“And she’s using it to control him.”
“Yes.”
“For money?”
“Partly.”
“What else?”
Dante hesitated.
“Access.”
“To?”
“Carter assets.”
Dana leaned forward.
“Through her holding companies.”
Dante nodded.
Everything clicked.
Claire did not need Roman romantically.
She needed proximity.
Control.
Transactions.
Maybe the photographs were deliberate.
“Did Roman sleep with her?”
I asked.
Dante looked at me.
“No.”
“Do you know that?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He hates her.”
Not proof.
But something.
“What about the picture?”
“She staged it.”
“How do you stage a man wrapping his arms around you?”
Dante grimaced.
“He was trying to take the envelope.”
I stared.
“What?”
“She brought the transfer authorization to the hotel.”
“She wouldn’t give it to him unless he signed.”
“He grabbed for it.”
“She stepped into him.”
“Someone photographed it.”
My old instincts sharpened.
“Someone she arranged.”
“Probably.”
“Roman still went.”
“Yes.”
“Still signed.”
“Yes.”
“Still lied to me.”
Dante looked down.
“Yes.”
No rescue.
Good.
I needed that.
I could understand coercion without turning Roman innocent.
“What was the transfer?”
Dana asked.
Dante looked at her.
“Roman was trying to move the estate into a structure Claire couldn’t seize if she exposed the old case.”
Dana frowned.
“By transferring it to Claire’s entity?”
“No.”
“She changed the final page.”
My pulse jumped.
“What?”
“Roman thought he was signing temporary control to a Carter protection trust.”
I looked at Dana.
“Can that happen?”
“If the signature packet was altered, yes.”
“Wouldn’t Roman read it?”
Dante laughed bitterly.
“He was panicking.”
That sounded plausible.
And infuriating.
Roman built an empire on reading other men’s weakness.
Then signed away our home because he was afraid.
“Why my inherited money?”
Dante looked confused.
“What inherited money?”
Good.
Maybe he didn’t know everything.
I explained.
His face changed.
“Roman wouldn’t touch that.”
“He did.”
“No.”
“Dana traced it.”
Dante shook his head.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Apparently my marriage has several new themes.”
Then he said:
“Roman had a separate liquidity account.”
“Enough?”
“More than enough.”
“Then why use mine?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer mattered.
Either Roman lied to Dante too—
or someone else moved the money.
Dana opened her laptop.
“Who has signing authority on Carter Family Reserve?”
“Roman.”
“Savannah.”
“Victor for emergency corporate protection under certain conditions.”
I froze.
“Victor.”
Dana stared.
“The general counsel.”
Dante frowned.
“Why?”
“Because Victor just told us Roman was conducting risk separation.”
My pulse changed.
Maybe Roman didn’t move my inheritance.
Victor could have.
Under a supposed emergency.
“Could Claire influence Victor?”
Dante’s face tightened.
“I don’t know.”
Then the doorbell rang again.
Dana looked toward the camera.
Her expression changed.
“Speak of the devil.”
Roman.
Standing outside.
Alone.
No coat despite the snow.
I stared at the screen.
He looked nothing like the man who left me the night before.
No calm.
No control.
He looked terrified.
Dana asked:
“Do you want him in?”
My first instinct was no.
Then I remembered Dad.
The road.
Roman knowing.
I wanted his face when I asked.
“Yes.”
Roman entered.
His eyes found me immediately.
“Savannah.”
“Did you know my father before you met me?”
He stopped.
Dante closed his eyes.
Roman looked toward his brother.
Then back at me.
“Yes.”
No delay.
That hurt more.
“How?”
He took one breath.
“Your father investigated my father.”
“Did your father have him run off the road?”
Roman’s face broke.
“Yes.”
I stood.
Dana moved slightly closer.
Roman did not.
“Did you know before he died?”
“No.”
“After?”
“Yes.”
“How soon?”
“Hours.”
I felt tears rise.
“And you stayed silent.”
“Yes.”
“For four years.”
“Yes.”
“Then met me.”
“Yes.”
“Dated me.”
“Yes.”
“Married me.”
His eyes filled.
“Yes.”
“Got me pregnant.”
He started crying.
“Yes.”
I almost slapped him.
I didn’t.
I wanted every word intact.
“Why?”
He looked at me.
“I fell in love with you.”
I laughed.
“You should have tried honesty.”
“I know.”
“No.”
“You knew then.”
Roman’s face collapsed.
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“I knew truth would cost me you.”
“And you chose yourself.”
“Yes.”
There.
The answer.
Ugly.
Real.
Then I asked:
“Did you steal from my inheritance?”
Roman looked shocked.
“What?”
“The reserve.”
“No.”
“Three hundred ten thousand moved.”
“I didn’t authorize that.”
Dana watched carefully.
“Victor could.”
Roman went still.
“What?”
Dana explained.
His face changed.
Not guilt.
Fear.
“Show me.”
She did.
Roman stared at the transfer data.
Then:
“Victor.”
Dante stood.
“You think he did it?”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“I think Claire got to him.”
“Why?”
“Because this account…”
He pointed.
“…was supposed to be untouched.”
I stared.
“You knew it was partly my inheritance.”
“Yes.”
“Yet you put it into a Carter reserve.”
“You agreed.”
“I agreed because you told me it was protected.”
“It was.”
“Until your lawyer moved it.”
Roman closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
No excuse.
Then he looked at me.
“Savannah, I came because Claire sent something.”
“What?”
He took out his phone.
A message.
Your wife froze the accounts. Cute. If you want the original Morgan file to stay buried, sign the remaining transfers by noon.
Attached was a photograph.
My father’s accident report.
But not the public version.
A second document.
Handwritten notes.
One line circled:
Vehicle contact probable.
My hands started shaking.
Dad’s crash had never been an accident.
Roman whispered:
“She has the original file.”
I looked at him.
“And you were going to keep paying her.”
“Yes.”
“Forever?”
“No.”
“What was your plan?”
“To take her apart quietly.”
I stared.
“How?”
“I’ve spent three years tracing what her father left.”
My pulse changed.
“Three years.”
“Yes.”
“While lying to me.”
“Yes.”
“You could investigate Claire for three years but couldn’t tell your wife why?”
Roman lowered his head.
“I was ashamed.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Men have buried entire families under that word.”
He looked up.
Then:
“I know.”
For once, there was no defense.
I touched my stomach.
A contraction tightened across my abdomen.
Not severe.
But enough.
Roman noticed instantly.
His face changed.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“You just—”
“I’m pregnant. That happens.”
He stepped forward.
I raised one hand.
He stopped.
Good.
Then Dana’s phone rang.
She answered.
Listened.
Her expression hardened.
“What?”
She looked at me.
“Hospital.”
My pulse jumped.
“What hospital?”
“Northwestern.”
“Why?”
“Margaret collapsed at the estate.”
I froze.
“What?”
Roman looked shocked.
Dana continued.
“Someone found her unconscious in the nursery.”
The nursery we emptied.
Roman’s face changed completely.
“Who was at the house?”
He asked.
I stared at him.
He had not known.
Dante already had his phone out.
Then Dana said:
“There’s more.”
I hated that phrase.
“The police found evidence somebody searched the room.”
“For what?”
Dana looked at Roman’s phone.
Then at me.
“Probably the photograph you left under the tree.”
The room went silent.
Claire wasn’t just pressuring Roman anymore.
Someone had gone into our house after I disappeared.
And Margaret—
the only person who knew exactly what I took with me—
May you like
was now in a hospital.
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