Chapter 8 - THE BLACKWELL FAMILY'S DARKEST DEBT
Roman didn't deny knowing about Damian's involvement.
When I showed him the email, his face tightened.
“Where did you get this?”
“Avery.”
He read it.
Then looked up.
“My brother was involved in the proposed acquisitions.”
I folded my arms.
“And you didn't tell me.”
“No.”
The answer came without an excuse.
That almost made it worse.
I stood in his office, looking through floor-to-ceiling windows at downtown Chicago.
He had invited me there after I requested the meeting.
His office was elegant.
Quiet.
Expensive.
And suddenly it felt like one more place where wealthy people kept information behind doors other people weren't allowed to open.
“Why not?”
Roman looked toward the city.
“Because I was trying to determine what Damian had done before bringing you accusations I couldn't support.”
I stared at him.
“You could have told me there was a potential conflict.”
He turned back.
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't you?”
A long silence followed.
“Because I was afraid you'd stop trusting me.”
I laughed bitterly.
“And hiding it was supposed to help?”
His expression changed.
“No.”
I stepped backward.
Roman didn't move toward me.
I was grateful for that.
“Harper, I made a mistake.”
“Yes.”
“I should have told you.”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“I understand if you want to leave.”
For a moment, I simply watched him.
There was no demand that I be reasonable.
No accusation that I was overreacting.
Just an admission.
But an admission didn't erase the omission.
“I need to know everything your company did involving my mother's trust.”
Roman took a breath.
“Then I'll arrange access to the relevant records through your attorney.”
“And Damian?”
“He's no longer managing our freight operations. His transactions are under independent review.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Since when?”
“Three months ago.”
The answer stunned me.
Before the engagement dinner.
Before Roman walked into my bakery.
He had already discovered irregularities involving Damian and Pierce Capital.
“Why were you at Bellweather House that night?” I asked.
Roman was silent.
Then he answered.
“Because Nolan had requested a private meeting after your engagement dinner.”
My stomach tightened.
“What meeting?”
“He wanted my approval for a joint acquisition involving your block.”
I stared.
“And you were going to meet him?”
“To refuse the proposal and explain the unresolved issues.”
“Then you saw me.”
Roman nodded.
“Yes.”
I thought of the hallway.
The rug.
His hand catching my elbow.
Nolan stopping when he recognized him.
The whole moment rearranged itself in my memory.
“You already knew who I was.”
Roman closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
I felt foolish.
Not because Roman had lied about his name.
But because I'd begun imagining our meeting as a strange coincidence.
A moment of unexpected kindness.
Something that belonged only to us.
Now I knew business had brought him into the same building.
I turned toward the door.
“Harper.”
I stopped.
Roman's voice was quiet.
“I was there because of business. But I helped you because you were falling.”
I looked back.
He continued.
“And I came to the bakery because I wanted to warn you about the acquisition. I should have disclosed my brother's connection sooner.”
I swallowed.
“Is that everything?”
“Yes.”
I studied him.
“Then prove it through the records. Not another speech.”
He nodded.
“I will.”
The documents arrived through Rebecca several days later.
They revealed that Damian had used Blackwell Freight subsidiaries to support certain logistics arrangements for Pierce Capital.
Some involved lawful construction materials.
Others contained unexplained payments to intermediaries associated with distressed property acquisitions.
Roman had initiated an internal review after discovering discrepancies.
He hadn't approved the specific proposal involving my bakery.
But his company had benefited from other transactions connected to the same network.
That distinction mattered.
He wasn't innocent of every responsibility merely because he was kinder than Nolan.
Then an independent reviewer found something worse.
An old loan associated with Edward Blackwell's construction company had been transferred through several entities.
One of the later holders was connected to Pierce Capital.
The loan's history overlapped with the years my mother worked to protect the neighborhood trust.
Rebecca studied the records.
“Harper, your mother and Roman's father may have been targeted by the same financial operation.”
I frowned.
“What operation?”
“A network that acquired distressed debts and used them to pressure property owners.”
I stared.
Nolan wasn't merely interested in the bakery.
His business partners had been involved in a much older pattern of extracting valuable property from people who couldn't afford to fight.
And Roman's family had been tangled in that pattern for years.
That evening, Roman called.
I answered.
He sounded exhausted.
“Harper.”
“Yes?”
“I've read the independent review.”
“So have I.”
A pause.
“My father's company suffered because of those loan arrangements.”
“I know.”
“And some of the same people may have been targeting your mother's trust.”
I looked toward the darkened bakery across the street.
Roman continued.
“I spent years trying to rebuild what my father lost.”
His voice became quiet.
“I may have overlooked the fact that some of our own businesses were repeating the same mistakes.”
I swallowed.
“What will you do?”
He didn't answer immediately.
Then he said, “Whatever the evidence and the law require. Even if I lose the company.”
For the first time, I understood how much that answer might cost him.
May you like
But I wasn't ready to forgive him.
And Roman didn't ask.
