Chapter 3 - THE QUESTION I NEVER ASKED
My father disappeared when I was nine years old.
No body.
No goodbye.
No explanation.
Just an empty closet and a mother who refused to talk about him.
For years, I believed he abandoned us.
Then my mother died when I was twenty-two.
Whatever truth she knew died with her.
I had stopped asking questions.
Until Trevor whispered that sentence.
Ask your husband what happened to your father.
I stood frozen in the mall as security took Trevor away.
Roman noticed immediately.
“What did he say?”
“Nothing.”
“Sadi.”
I hated how easily he could read me.
“He said something stupid.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“What?”
I looked directly into his eyes.
“He told me to ask you what happened to my father.”
For the first time since Roman arrived, his face changed.
Barely.
A tiny tightening around his eyes.
But I saw it.
“You know something.”
Roman looked toward the security office.
“Not here.”
My stomach dropped.
“Roman.”
“We’ll talk at home.”
“No.”
“Sadi.”
“Don’t Sadi me.”
The boutique had gone quiet again.
I lowered my voice.
“My father vanished seventeen years ago.”
Roman said nothing.
“And my ex-boyfriend apparently knows something you don’t want to tell me.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Roman exhaled.
He looked tired.
Not guilty.
Not exactly.
But tired.
“I knew your father.”
The floor beneath me seemed to tilt.
“What?”
“Not well.”
“You told me you had never met my family.”
“I never met your mother.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Roman looked toward the windows.
Rain had started outside.
“I met your father once.”
My chest tightened.
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“How many years?”
Roman didn’t answer fast enough.
“Before he disappeared?”
“Yes.”
I stepped away from him.
“You lied to me.”
“I withheld something.”
“That’s called lying.”
“I knew it would hurt you.”
“Oh, so you decided for me?”
His face hardened.
“That isn’t fair.”
I laughed.
“Fair?”
My knee still throbbed from Trevor’s kick.
My calf burned.
And suddenly that was the least painful thing in my body.
Roman reached for me.
I stepped back.
“Don’t.”
His hand stopped.
I had never done that before.
Never recoiled from him.
His expression changed.
Not anger.
Pain.
“Tell me.”
Roman lowered his voice.
“Your father’s name was Elias Monroe.”
I nodded.
“You already know that.”
“He didn’t work construction like your mother told you.”
I stared.
“What?”
“He worked for an investment firm.”
“No.”
“He handled private accounts.”
“My dad wore work boots.”
“So did half the men who worked for that firm. They didn’t advertise what they did.”
My breathing became shallow.
“What firm?”
Roman looked at me.
“Vale Holdings.”
I stopped breathing.
“Your company?”
“My father’s company at the time.”
I felt sick.
“What happened?”
Roman glanced toward the security office.
“That’s where this gets complicated.”
“Make it simple.”
Roman’s voice dropped.
“Your father stole something.”
I swallowed.
“Money?”
“No.”
“What?”
“A file.”
“What kind of file?”
Roman hesitated.
“A file containing names.”
“Whose names?”
Roman’s phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His face turned cold.
“What?”
I asked.
Roman answered the call.
He listened.
Then looked toward the security office.
“Lock down the building.”
My heart pounded.
“What happened?”
Roman ended the call.
May you like
He looked at me.
“Trevor escaped.”
