Chapter 3 - THE TRUST THAT COULD DESTROY A FAMILY
The plane hit turbulence over Ohio.
Norah gripped the armrest.
Roman barely noticed.
He was thinking about a trust.
There was only one family trust Carlo could possibly mean.
The Elena Moretti Trust.
Named after Roman’s mother.
Created before her death.
Roman had never been allowed to touch it.
His father used to say:
“That money is for the future, not for you.”
Roman always assumed Vittorio meant grandchildren someday.
He had never cared enough to ask.
Until now.
“Roman.”
Norah’s voice pulled him back.
“What is it?”
He answered carefully.
“A family trust my mother created.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
She gave him a look.
“You run a criminal empire and don’t know how much is in your own trust?”
“I run several legitimate companies too.”
“That did not improve the sentence.”
Despite everything, he almost laughed.
Then he became serious.
“My father kept it separate.”
“Why would Carlo tell you not to let the trust see the twins?”
“I don’t know.”
“What does ‘see’ mean?”
Roman thought.
Legal recognition.
DNA.
Medical records.
Birth certificates.
Then it clicked.
“The trust may have an automatic heir clause.”
Norah went still.
“If the children are recognized…”
“Control shifts.”
“To them?”
“Possibly.”
“From who?”
Roman looked at his phone.
“Carlo.”
The name tasted wrong now.
The plane shook again.
A Christmas ornament hanging from a flight attendant’s cart swung violently.
Norah instinctively protected Grace’s head.
Roman watched.
The movement was automatic.
Constant.
Twelve months of doing everything herself had turned Norah into a woman who reacted before thinking.
He had done that.
Indirectly.
Maybe directly.
Then Elias started crying again.
Roman held out his hands.
Norah hesitated.
Long enough to hurt.
Then gave him the baby.
Roman froze.
Elias was warm.
Small.
Real.
His son stopped crying almost immediately.
Norah stared.
Roman looked down.
“What?”
“He never does that with strangers.”
“I’m not a stranger.”
The second the words left his mouth, he regretted them.
Norah’s face closed.
“To him, you are.”
Roman swallowed.
“You’re right.”
That answer surprised her.
He adjusted Elias carefully.
The baby grabbed his finger.
Roman’s entire world narrowed to that grip.
A tiny hand.
Enough strength to hold one finger.
Enough power to make Roman question every life he had taken.
Then Norah’s phone buzzed.
She frowned.
No signal should exist.
The message had likely been queued before takeoff.
Unknown number.
She opened it.
A photograph.
Roman holding Elias.
Taken from several rows behind them.
Norah’s breath stopped.
Someone on the plane had photographed them.
Below it:
THE TRUST HAS SEEN HIM.
Roman stood.
Slowly.
Everyone nearby looked away immediately.
Norah grabbed his sleeve.
“Don’t.”
He looked at her.
“If you start tearing through passengers, whoever sent it will know we’re scared.”
Roman stared.
Then sat.
She was right.
Again.
For the first time in his life, he hated that fear had trained her to think like him.
May you like
Then a second message appeared.
YOU HAVE UNTIL DENVER TO CHOOSE WHICH CHILD KEEPS THE NAME.
