Chapter 4 - Shadows in the YardBy midnight, the storm that had been threatening the Manhattan skyline finally broke. Heavy sheets of rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, turning the city lights into blurred smears of neon and gold.
Sophia was sitting upright on the sofa, wrapped in her coat, staring at the rain when the private elevator chimed.
Roman stepped out of the cabin, shedding a wet black overcoat. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing forearms corded with muscle and pale scars that traced old encounters. He looked tired, but his eyes were sharper than ever.
"What happened at the yard?" Sophia asked immediately, swinging her legs over the edge of the sofa despite the twinge in her ribs.
"Nothing that Marcus and a few well-placed security protocols couldn't handle," Roman said, walking over to the bar to pour a glass of water. "The Higgins Group sent a couple of corporate operatives to dig through your father’s old shipping containers. They were looking for the original zoning title from 1984."
"Why?"
"Because the city approved a multi-million-dollar transit expansion project last month that runs directly underneath your garage," Roman explained, turning around to face her. "Anyone who owns that parcel of land holds veto power over the entire eastern expansion corridor. Higgins has been buying up every other block on the street for pennies on the dollar, but without your father's garage, their commercial permits are worthless."
Sophia’s mind raced, connecting dots she had been too blind or too exhausted to see before. "That's why Eric was targeted. It wasn't just about poker debts. Someone set him up."
Roman nodded slowly. "It took you thirty seconds to figure out what the NYPD white-collar division couldn't see in six months. Your brother is a gambler, Sophia, but he didn't run up a three-hundred-thousand-dollar tab at an underground club in Queens by accident. He was targeted by a professional credit trap designed to force the family into bankruptcy."
The realization hit Sophia like a physical blow. All the late nights, the screaming matches with creditors, the terror of watching her family's legacy disintegrate—it had all been engineered by a corporate machine trying to steal four square blocks of asphalt in Queens.
"What do we do?" she asked, her voice dropping to a fierce, steady whisper.
Roman walked over, standing directly in front of the sofa, looking down at her with a look that was half-warning, half-admiration.
"We don't do anything," Roman said. "You stay here, lock the doors, and let me handle the corporate side of things. I own thirty percent of Higgins Group's primary debt through a holding subsidiary. I can dismantle their legal department before breakfast."
"And Eric?" Sophia demanded, standing up despite the pain in her side, refusing to cower beneath his height. "What about my brother?"
"Marcus's men are bringing him in from Atlantic City right now," Roman sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "He'll be here by morning. Safe, sober, and thoroughly terrified."
Sophia stood chest-to-chest with the billionaire mafia boss, her dark eyes flashing with stubborn defiance. "I'm not hiding in a penthouse while my family's life is being dismantled, Roman. I am a corporate attorney by training, even if I spent the last three years turning wrenches to keep the lights on. If we're going to take down Higgins Group, you need someone who knows how to read their predatory acquisition contracts."
Roman stared at her for a long, silent moment. The rain hammered against the glass behind them, casting long, shifting shadows across the room.
A slow, dangerous smile touched the corners of Roman's mouth.
May you like
"Corporate attorney," he repeated softly. "And here I thought you were just stubborn."
"I'm both," Sophia said, not backing down an inch. "Now, where's the coffee?"
