Chapter 2 - THE DEBT THAT NEVER EXPIRED
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Roman Mercer had just accused his own father of causing an industrial explosion.
And somehow, my father was involved.
I stared at the photograph again.
Dad looked younger.
Stronger.
His hair was darker, his shoulders broader, and there was a determined expression on his face I remembered from childhood.
But the man beside him was unmistakably Roman.
"What happened after the explosion?" I asked.
Roman sat down.
"My father claimed faulty equipment caused it. Daniel knew otherwise."
"How?"
"He designed part of the safety system. He knew someone had overridden the controls."
I swallowed.
"Did anyone die?"
Roman's expression darkened.
"Seven workers."
My stomach tightened.
Seven families.
Seven funerals.
And my father had carried that secret for twenty-one years.
"Why didn't he go to the police?"
"He tried."
Roman opened a folder.
Inside were old reports, correspondence, and photographs.
"His statement disappeared. His supervisor was transferred. The company accused him of negligence."
I stared.
"They blamed him?"
"Yes."
"What happened to his career?"
"He was blacklisted."
I thought of Dad working twelve-hour days in a freezing garage.
The nights he came home smelling of diesel and exhaustion.
The way he always said some doors weren't worth opening.
Suddenly, those memories felt different.
Roman looked at me.
"Daniel refused a settlement that required him to admit responsibility."
"Of course he did."
"He lost his house. His savings. His professional license."
My throat tightened.
"He never told us."
Roman nodded.
"He was trying to protect you."
I looked away.
I hated that explanation.
Protecting us had meant letting us grow up believing our father was simply unlucky.
"Why are you telling me now?"
Roman hesitated.
"Because your father contacted me before he died."
I looked up sharply.
"When?"
"Eight months ago."
Two months before Dad's stroke.
"What did he want?"
"He said someone had reopened the North Harbor files."
My heart began pounding.
"Who?"
Roman shook his head.
"He wouldn't tell me over the phone."
"Then what happened?"
"He asked me to meet him. Before we could, he was hospitalized."
I stared at him.
"And you didn't come?"
Roman lowered his eyes.
"I was overseas."
"You're a billionaire. You own airplanes."
"I know."
His voice was quiet.
"I should have come."
I wanted to hate him.
Part of me already did.
But the expression on his face wasn't arrogance.
It was regret.
"Why did you grab me last night?"
Roman looked genuinely uncomfortable.
"I thought you were about to fall."
I frowned.
"What?"
"There was water on the floor beside my chair. I saw your shoe slip."
I remembered the tray tilting slightly.
The sudden pressure at my waist.
But he hadn't released me when I froze.
"Then you should have said something."
"You're right."
He met my eyes.
"I had no right to keep my hand there after you told me to stop."
I studied him.
He didn't make excuses.
That mattered.
Not enough to erase what happened.
But enough for me to keep listening.
"What about the job offer?"
"I thought it might help."
"You thought money would make me forget?"
"No."
He paused.
"I thought it might give you options."
I folded my arms.
"Then here's my option. I want the truth about my father."
Roman nodded.
"Agreed."
"And I don't work for you personally."
"Understood."
"And you don't contact Eli without asking me."
Roman's expression changed.
"Tessa, there's something you need to know about Eli."
My stomach dropped.
"What?"
He looked toward the photograph.
"Your father didn't just save my life."
May you like
A pause.
"He saved your brother's too."
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