Chapter 3 - The Broken Promise
The reunion was not filled with cinematic joy; it was heavy with the crushing weight of five years of deception.
Noah had been sent to the back room with a warm mug of cocoa and a plate of pastries Gabriel had fetched from the bakery next door. The boy sat quietly, watching his parents through the small glass pane in the door, sensing that the large, terrifying man from the SUV was someone who belonged to them.
In the front shop, Grace stood against the counter, her face buried in Roman’s chest, her body shaking with deep, silent sobs. Roman held her as if she might disappear if he loosened his grip, his face buried in her dark hair, inhaling the scent of roses and winter that had always defined her.
"Why?" Grace finally asked, pulling back, her eyes flashing with a sudden, fierce anger. "Why did you let me believe you were ashes, Roman? I sat at an empty grave for months. I gave birth to your son in a public hospital under a fake name, terrified that every nurse who walked in was a hitman!"
"Enzo told me it was the only way," Roman said, his jaw tightening so hard the scar along his jaw turned white. "After the Moretti hit on the docks, I was barely alive. Enzo brought me to a safehouse. He told me the Morettis had infiltrated our inner circle. He said if the world knew I survived, they would target you to get to me. He promised to take care of you. He swore on his mother’s life that he would transfer fifty million dollars to a Swiss account under the Miller name so you would never have to work a day in your life."
Grace let out a bitter, broken laugh. She walked over to the cash register, popping it open to reveal a few crumpled twenty-dollar bills and a handful of coins.
"Fifty million?" she said, her voice shaking. "Roman, Enzo came to see me three months after your 'death.' He told me the Morettis had frozen all the family’s offshore assets. He said the syndicate was broke, and that if I didn't disappear into the slums of Boston, his own men wouldn't be able to protect me. He gave me ten thousand dollars in cash and told me to never contact anyone from the family again if I wanted my baby to live."
Roman’s hands closed into fists so tight his fingernails bit into his palms, drawing blood.
Enzo hadn't just lied to him. Enzo had used Roman’s absence to steal the entire Valente empire, leaving the rightful queen and heir to starve in the cold while he lived in luxury in the Valente estate.
"He used my money to buy the capos' loyalty," Roman whispered, the realization settling into his chest like liquid lead. "He told me the family was still under threat so I would stay in Europe, fighting the Moretti remnants while he consolidated his power here. He kept me away from my own blood."
Roman walked to the door, his eyes turning to the back room where Noah was carefully drawing a flower on a piece of scrap paper.
"He took five years of my son’s life," Roman said, his voice dropping into a register that made the glass windows of the flower shop vibrate. "Gabriel!"
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The door opened instantly. Gabriel stepped inside, his face tight. "Boss?"
"Enzo is at Aurelia right now," Roman ordered, his gray eyes flashing with a terrifying, absolute clarity. "Call the crews. The ones who still remember my father’s name. The ones who didn't sell their souls to a rat. Tonight, we take back the city."
