Chapter 5 - The Unraveling of the Crown
Ten minutes later, the heavy oak doors of the study swung open.
Vivian walked in, wrapped in a silk robe, her hair slightly disheveled, her expression a mask of haughty indignation. "Roman, this is ridiculous! Locking Henderson in the basement? Dragging me out of my room at three in the morning over a hired servant? If this is your way of having a tantrum because I ruffled your feathers at dinner—"
She stopped talking when she saw Roman’s face.
He was standing by the window, watching the blinding snow rage across the lawn where Claire had nearly died a few hours earlier. He didn't turn around.
"Sit down, Vivian," Roman said.
"I will not sit down! I demand an explanation for—"
"I said, sit down," Roman turned around. His gray eyes were so devoid of human warmth that Vivian instinctively stepped back, her breath catching in her throat.
She slowly lowered herself into the leather armchair opposite the desk.
"You've been very busy over the past six months, Vivian," Roman began, his voice dangerously smooth as he walked toward her, tossing the crumpled notepad onto her lap. "Managing social galas, planning our wedding, and moonlighting as a loan shark."
Vivian stared at the notepad, her face turning pale. "I... I don't know what that is."
"Meridian Capital," Roman continued, leaning against the edge of the desk, looking down at her like a predator inspecting a trapped insect. "A private predatory lending firm run through your father’s shell companies. You bought Claire Bennett’s family debt six months ago. You inflated the interest rate by four hundred percent, threatened her disabled sister’s medical care, and used her desperation to humiliate her under my roof."
"She’s just a maid!" Vivian shrieked, panic finally breaking through her polished facade. "A nobody! She looked at me with disrespect! She needed to be put in her place!"
"She is a human being working legally under my roof," Roman corrected, his voice dropping an octave into a register that made the glass on the desk vibrate. "And tonight, you tried to murder her."
"I didn't try to kill her! I just wanted to teach her a lesson! Henderson was only supposed to lock her in for a few minutes—"
"Henderson has already confessed to everything," Roman interrupted coldly. "Including your explicit instructions to leave her out there long enough to 'learn respect.' If I hadn't walked out onto that lawn, she would be dead in a snowbank right now."
The door behind them creaked open.
Marcus stepped into the room, followed by two armed guards escorting a tall, trembling man in a rumpled suit—Arthur Mercer, who had been hastily summoned via private phone hookup from his estate in Greenwich.
Arthur took one look at Roman’s face and swallowed hard, his face losing all color. "Roman... my boy. What is the meaning of this? Dragging me out in the middle of a blizzard—"
"Your daughter is a sociopath, Arthur," Roman interrupted, tossing the Meridian Capital financial files across the desk. "And you aided and abetted a predatory extortion ring operating within my territory without my consent."
Arthur’s eyes widened in horror as he glanced at the documents. "Roman, listen to me, we can negotiate—"
"There is nothing to negotiate," Roman said, standing up to his full height. "The engagement is canceled. Permanently. Meridian Capital’s assets in New York and Long Island are hereby seized by DeLuca logistics to cover all debts owed by Claire Bennett and every other victim your family has preyed upon. And by sunrise, both of you will be on a private flight out of the country, never to set foot in the Northeast again."
"You can't do this!" Vivian screamed, standing up and lunging forward in blind rage. "My father is a partner in your shipping routes! You’ll destroy our alliances! Everyone in New York will laugh at you!"
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Roman caught her wrist with a grip of steel, stopping her dead in her tracks.
"Let them laugh," Roman whispered, his eyes burning with cold fury. "Nobody touches anyone under my roof. Get them out of my sight."
