Chapter 5 - THEIR ENTIRE RELATIONSHIP HAD BEEN A SETUP
Harper remembered their first meeting.
A charity cocktail party.
Derek had bumped into her near the bar.
He spilled champagne on his cuff.
Made her laugh.
Asked what she did.
Junior partner in forensic accounting.
His interest had seemed flattering.
Now it looked calculated.
She searched old emails.
Three days before they met, Harper had sent Westbridge Shipping a preliminary audit notice.
The same week, Derek suddenly appeared in her life.
Roman watched her expression change.
“What?”
“He knew.”
Harper felt humiliation wash through her.
Not because Derek had fooled her.
Because she had spent two years believing the abuse began after he loved her.
Maybe there had never been love.
Maybe she was always an assignment.
Roman moved closer.
Harper immediately stiffened.
He stopped.
“Sorry.”
That small act affected her more than she wanted.
Derek never stopped when her body told him to.
Roman noticed.
And respected it.
They contacted law enforcement.
The case widened quickly.
Financial crimes.
Witness intimidation.
Assault.
Possible attempted murder.
But prosecutors needed Marcus.
And nobody knew where he was.
Then Harper remembered something Derek said months earlier.
He had once returned home furious after a “business dinner.”
He muttered:
“The old man thinks hiding underground makes him immortal.”
At the time, Harper assumed he meant an elderly client.
Roman did not.
“Old man was what people called my father.”
“Your father is dead.”
“Yes.”
Harper stared at him.
Roman looked suddenly uncertain.
His father, Salvatore Falco, supposedly died after a stroke.
Closed funeral.
Family doctor.
Private burial.
Harper had recently learned to distrust convenient deaths.
Roman ordered the burial records.
The cemetery confirmed something strange.
Salvatore’s coffin had never been formally identified after transport.
Roman’s brother Marcus handled everything.
Harper felt the familiar cold instinct of an auditor spotting a fraudulent pattern.
“What if Marcus didn’t disappear because he was running the operation?”
Roman understood.
“What if he was running it for someone else?”
That evening Harper went to Maya’s apartment.
Her sister hugged her hard.
Then slapped her arm.
“Ow.”
“That was for hiding this from me.”
Harper laughed for the first time in days.
They ordered pizza.
For two hours Harper almost felt normal.
Then Maya went downstairs to collect a delivery.
She did not return.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Harper called.
No answer.
She ran downstairs.
The lobby was empty.
On the front desk sat Maya’s phone.
Beside it was a folded napkin.
One sentence was written in black ink:
BRING ROMAN FALCO TO PIER 19 AT MIDNIGHT.
ALONE.
Harper called Roman.
His response came instantly.
“No.”
“They have my sister.”
“You’re not going.”
Harper’s voice broke.
“I’m not asking permission.”
Silence.
Then Roman said something she never expected.
“Neither am I.”
At 11:58 p.m., they reached Pier 19.
A warehouse door opened.
A man stepped into the light.
Roman stopped breathing.
Harper whispered, “Marcus?”
Roman shook his head.
The older man smiled.
“No.”
He looked at Roman.
May you like
“Hello, son.”
Salvatore Falco was alive.
