Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN WHO WASN'T SUPPOSED TO REMEMBER
The hand around Tessa's wrist was cold.
Not physically cold.
Gloved.
Leather pressed against her skin as someone pulled her toward the darkened service corridor.
She reacted without thinking.
Nine years of working late shifts in Manhattan had taught her that panic was useless unless it made you move.
She drove her heel backward.
Hard.
A man cursed.
His grip loosened.
Tessa twisted free, stumbled against a chair, and heard glass shatter.
“Get down!”
Roman's voice came from somewhere behind her.
She dropped.
A deafening crack split the dining room.
Then another.
The emergency lights flickered on.
Roman was already moving.
He caught Tessa by the shoulder and pulled her behind the marble service counter while Daniel and two security officers rushed toward the kitchen.
“Are you hurt?”
Tessa shook her head.
“Who was that?”
Roman didn't answer.
“Roman!”
His eyes locked on hers.
“Someone who knew your mother.”
The words struck harder than the violence.
“My mother died eleven years ago.”
“I know.”
Tessa went completely still.
“How?”
Roman's silence answered more than any explanation could have.
She pushed away from him.
“What do you know about my mother?”
“Not here.”
“No. You don't get to say something like that and then decide when we discuss it.”
Daniel returned, breathing hard.
“He got through the loading entrance. We found the gloves. Nothing else.”
Roman looked toward the corridor.
“Was anyone injured?”
“One security guard. Conscious. Ambulance is coming.”
“Make sure the police get the surveillance footage.”
Tessa stared at him.
“The police?”
“Yes.”
“Aren't men like you supposed to avoid them?”
Roman looked at her.
“Men like me?”
“Dangerous men.”
His expression tightened.
“Sometimes dangerous men are the reason people need the police.”
He offered her his phone.
“Call someone you trust.”
She wanted to say there was nobody.
Instead, she called her younger sister, Lily.
No answer.
She tried again.
Voicemail.
Her stomach sank.
Lily was twenty-three, a nursing student living in Queens. She always answered when Tessa called after midnight.
Always.
Roman noticed her expression.
“Who?”
“My sister.”
“Where does she live?”
Tessa stepped away.
“I'm not telling you.”
He didn't argue.
Instead, he said something unexpected.
“Then call the police and ask for a welfare check. I'll wait.”
That made her hesitate.
Roman Bellamy was supposed to be ruthless, controlling, and untouchable.
Yet he was standing beside her, offering her the option of involving authorities instead of demanding obedience.
She made the call.
Twenty minutes later, officers confirmed Lily's apartment was empty.
Her phone remained on the kitchen counter.
Her coat was gone.
And on the refrigerator someone had attached a photograph.
A photograph of Tessa at twelve years old.
Standing beside her mother.
On the back were three words.
Evelyn knew everything.
Tessa's knees nearly buckled.
Her mother's name had been Evelyn Monroe.
She had worked as a bookkeeper for a shipping company before dying in what police called a highway accident.
Tessa had spent eleven years believing that accident was random.
Roman closed his eyes briefly.
When he opened them, the man who had been sitting calmly at dinner was gone.
“Daniel,” he said, “find out who reopened the Evelyn Monroe file.”
Tessa looked at him.
“What file?”
Roman turned toward her.
May you like
And finally told her the truth.
“Your mother wasn't killed in an accident.”
