Chapter 4 - THE FIRST LIE
By sunrise, Roman had locked down the building.
No deliveries.
No visitors.
No one entered without being searched twice.
Sophia hated it.
“This feels like a prison.”
“A prison is safer than a grave.”
“That supposed to comfort me?”
“No.”
Roman never pretended to be comforting.
That almost made her trust him more.
Almost.
He brought in Dr. Elena Price, a physician Roman had known for years.
Sophia refused to let anyone touch Gabriel until Elena placed her phone, bag, and watch on the kitchen counter.
“No cameras,” Sophia said.
Elena nodded.
“No cameras.”
The exam took fifteen minutes.
“He’s healthy,” Elena said. “A little underweight, but nothing alarming.”
Sophia’s shoulders dropped for the first time.
Roman watched from across the room.
Elena approached him afterward.
“She needs sleep.”
“So tell her.”
“I’m telling you.”
Roman frowned.
“She doesn’t listen to me.”
Elena gave him a flat look.
“I wonder why.”
Sophia actually smiled.
It vanished when Roman’s lawyer arrived with the old Callaway family records.
Roman spread files across the dining table.
Vincent Callaway.
Born 1990.
Declared dead at twenty-five.
Cause of death: car explosion.
Identification had been made through dental records.
Roman stared at the report.
Something bothered him.
He called his former family dentist.
The number was disconnected.
Then he called the medical examiner who signed the identification.
Dead.
Heart attack.
Six years ago.
Sophia watched him.
“You think the records were faked.”
“I think too many convenient people are dead.”
Roman opened the old police photographs.
Burned vehicle.
Charred body.
Metal twisted beyond recognition.
Sophia looked away.
Roman kept going.
One detail stopped him.
A ring on the body’s left hand.
Roman zoomed in.
His expression changed.
“What?”
Roman turned the screen toward her.
A heavy silver ring with a black stone.
“That belonged to Vincent.”
“So?”
“He never wore it on his left hand.”
Sophia frowned.
“How would you know?”
“Because Vincent was missing half the tip of his left ring finger.”
He enlarged the photograph.
The burned body’s finger was intact.
Sophia stared.
Roman whispered, “That wasn’t my brother.”
A knock sounded.
Marcus entered carrying a small black box.
“This came by courier.”
“I said no deliveries.”
“He left it outside and ran.”
Roman opened it carefully.
Inside was a scorched silver ring.
Vincent’s ring.
And beneath it, a note.
ONE BROTHER LIVED BECAUSE THE OTHER AGREED TO FORGET.
Sophia read it twice.
Then looked at Roman.
“What did you agree to forget?”
Roman’s eyes stayed on the note.
May you like
“I don’t know.”
But for the first time, Sophia knew he was lying.
