Chapter 2 - The Scar Roman Recognized
“Don’t.”
Roman stopped at the bedroom door.
“What?”
“Don’t bring Grant here.”
“He’s already here.”
My stomach dropped.
Roman had apparently ordered Grant detained before his car reached the estate gates.
“You planned this?”
“I planned to frighten him tonight.”
Roman looked at my scars.
“Now I have better questions.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain.”
I pulled the robe around myself.
Roman waited.
That surprised me.
Men like my father and Grant never waited for explanations.
They decided what the truth was and punished anyone who disagreed.
I sat on the edge of the bed.
“The mark you recognized came from a Mercer shipping seal.”
Roman’s face hardened.
The metal seals were used on cargo containers controlled by my family.
When heated, their raised emblem could leave a distinctive shape.
“I was seventeen,” I said.
Roman said nothing.
“Grant was stealing from our father.”
“How much?”
“Millions.”
“And you found out.”
“I found ledgers.”
Roman understood immediately.
“You threatened to tell Arthur.”
“I did tell him.”
Roman’s eyes narrowed.
“And?”
“He didn’t believe me.”
That wasn’t completely true.
I laughed bitterly.
“No. That’s wrong. He believed me. He just couldn’t afford the scandal.”
Roman remained perfectly still.
“What happened?”
“Grant waited until our father left for Europe.”
My fingers tightened around the robe.
“He wanted to know where I’d hidden copies of the records.”
Roman’s jaw flexed.
“The scars?”
“Some.”
“Some?”
“There were other times.”
He looked toward the door.
“Where are the records?”
“Gone.”
“You’re sure?”
“I burned them.”
Roman watched my face.
“No, you didn’t.”
I almost smiled.
“You really are observant.”
“Where are they?”
“Somewhere Grant never found.”
Roman approached.
“Why didn’t you expose him?”
“To whom?”
“The police.”
“My father owned half the people who would have investigated.”
“Then me.”
I stared at him.
“You were trying to kill my family.”
“Fair point.”
A knock sounded.
Roman opened the door.
His security chief, Luca Marino, stood outside.
“We have Mercer downstairs.”
“Alone?”
“His driver and guards are separated.”
Roman nodded.
“Good.”
I stood.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“He’s my brother.”
“That’s exactly why you’re staying here.”
I stepped closer.
“If you question Grant without me, he’ll lie.”
“I know.”
“He’ll tell you I’m unstable. Vindictive. That I hurt myself.”
Roman’s expression became colder with every word.
“How do you know?”
“Because he’s done it before.”
Roman stared at me.
Then he opened the door wider.
“Stay beside me.”
“That sounded like an order.”
“It was.”
Grant was waiting in Roman’s library.
Two guards stood behind him.
The moment he saw me, his face changed.
Not concern.
Fear.
“Evelyn.”
Roman noticed.
“So,” Roman said, “you do care whether your sister survives.”
Grant looked at him.
“What the hell is this?”
Roman poured himself a drink.
“Your sister showed me her back.”
Grant went pale.
I watched him.
Roman watched him too.
“That reaction,” Roman said softly, “answered my first question.”
“Roman, whatever she told you—”
“She told me nothing.”
Grant looked at me.
I understood what Roman was doing.
“Then why am I here?”
Roman took a slow drink.
“Because I recognized a Mercer cargo seal burned into my wife’s shoulder.”
Grant swallowed.
“It wasn’t me.”
I laughed.
He turned.
“Evelyn, tell him.”
“Tell him what?”
“That Dad did it.”
I stared at him.
Roman set his glass down.
“You just made a mistake.”
Grant’s eyes snapped toward him.
“What?”
“Evelyn never told me Arthur wasn’t responsible.”
Grant said nothing.
Roman stepped forward.
“But you knew exactly what scar I meant.”
Grant backed toward the desk.
“Roman, listen—”
“No.”
Roman’s voice remained calm.
“You listen.”
The room seemed to shrink around him.
“I married Evelyn because I wanted Arthur Mercer’s family to understand what losing feels like.”
He glanced at me.
“I believed she was the spoiled daughter of my enemy.”
His eyes returned to Grant.
“Apparently I married the only Mercer your family should have protected.”
Grant’s voice cracked.
“You can’t start another war over this.”
Roman smiled without warmth.
“I’m not starting a war.”
“What do you call this?”
Roman leaned closer.
“A family discussion.”
Then I spoke.
“There’s something else.”
Both men looked at me.
I met Grant’s eyes.
“The records weren’t destroyed.”
His face collapsed.
Roman turned slowly toward me.
“What records?”
“The ones proving Grant didn’t just steal from my father.”
I looked at Roman.
May you like
“He helped arrange the ambush that killed your brother.”
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