Chapter 4 - THE SNAKE IN THE PENTHOUSEThe penthouse on Elm Street was a fortress of glass, steel, and reinforced concrete overlooking Lake Michigan. It was Caleb’s most secure residence, equipped with bulletproof windows, private guards, and a panic room built into the master suite.
When Caleb arrived at 2:00 AM, the living room was dimly lit.
Mara Bennett was sitting on the plush leather sofa, wrapped in a fleece blanket, holding a warm cup of tea. Grace was fast asleep in the bedroom nearby, tucked under heavy down comforters, safe from the freezing cold that had chased her for days.
Roman Bell stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the dark lake, a half-empty glass of scotch in his hand.
When the heavy private elevator doors slid open and Caleb stepped out, Roman turned around, offering a weary smile.
"The girl is asleep, boss," Roman said softly. "The mother is fed. I’ve posted four guards in the lobby and two on the roof. Nobody’s getting near this building."
Caleb walked across the hardwood floor, taking off his wet wool coat and throwing it across a chair. He walked to the bar, poured himself two fingers of neat bourbon, and took a slow sip.
"Where is your brother, Roman?" Caleb asked casually.
Roman frowned slightly, lowering his glass. "Dominic? He’s at his home in Barrington, I assume. Why? Did something come up with the legal restructuring?"
Caleb looked into Roman’s eyes. He had known this man since they were twenty years old. They had bled together in the streets, buried enemies together, and built an empire from nothing.
"Did you know?" Caleb asked.
The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush a man.
Roman’s posture slowly changed. The relaxed, loyal second-in-command vanished. His eyes grew cold, guarded, and distant.
"Know what, Caleb?" Roman asked quietly.
"About Lily," Caleb said, pulling the black ledger from his jacket and dropping it onto the marble coffee table with a loud thud. "About the ledger in Box 408. About why she died ten years ago."
Roman looked at the black book on the table. He didn't reach for it. He didn't look surprised. A long, exhausted sigh escaped his lips as he set his scotch glass down on the mantle.
"I didn't know until three years after the crash," Roman whispered, his voice laced with a deep, poisoned guilt. "I swear to God, Caleb... I didn't know Dominic set the fire. Not until I found the offshore wire transfers in his private accounts."
"And you didn't tell me?" Caleb’s voice rose, a terrifying storm breaking through his calm facade. "You let me sit across from you for seven years knowing your brother killed my sister?!"
Mara gasped, drawing the fleece blanket tightly around her shoulders as she backed away toward the hallway.
"If I told you, you would have killed him!" Roman shouted back, his face flushing red. "He’s my brother, Caleb! My own blood! I tried to fix it! I tried to force him to return the money, to retire, to leave the country! But Dominic... he’s sick. He’s greedy. He couldn't stop!"
"He murdered Lily!" Caleb roared, stepping forward and gripping Roman by the lapels of his suit, slamming him back against the floor-to-ceiling glass window. The glass creaked under the force. "She was twenty-two years old, Roman! She was a child!"
"I KNOW!" Roman screamed, tears spilling down his face. "I know what he did! And I’ve lived in hell every single day since I found out! Why do you think I stayed by your side?! Why do you think I took those bullets for you in Miami?! I was trying to pay for his sins!"
Caleb held Roman against the glass, his scarred face inches from his oldest friend’s. His chest heaved with rage, betrayal, and heartbreak. He could end Roman’s life right now with his bare hands. He had the right. In their world, complicity in treason was punishable by death.
"Where is Dominic right now?" Caleb growled.
Roman swallowed hard, his eyes filled with total surrender. He didn't fight back. He didn't raise his hands.
"He knows the girl gave you the key," Roman choked out. "His trackers alerted him when Mara went into La Vittoria tonight. He’s at the private airstrip in Gary, Indiana. His jet is fueling up. He leaves for Dubai at three o'clock."
Caleb stared at Roman for three agonizing seconds. Then, with a grunt of disgust, he shoved Roman away. Roman collapsed onto his knees, coughing, wiping his eyes.
Caleb turned to Mara, who was standing near the corridor, trembling.
"Stay here with Grace," Caleb said to her, his voice softening just a fraction. "The building is locked down. You are safe."
He walked toward the elevator, pulling a heavy tactical pistol from the hidden drawer under the console.
"Caleb," Roman called out from the floor, his voice broken. "Let me come with you."
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Caleb stopped at the elevator doors, not looking back.
"If you come with me, Roman," Caleb said coldly, "you carry the shovel to bury your own brother."
