Chapter 12 - THE FRAGILE MASK OF A KING AND THE WHISPERS OF TREASON
Roman sat in his office,
the air thick with the smell of expensive tobacco and expensive failure.
The crystal decanter of scotch on his desk was half-empty,
a rare sign of weakness for a man who prided himself on his sobriety and control.
He stared at the television screen,
where a news anchor was discussing the recent "anomalies" in his company’s financial records.
The narrative was shifting,
slowly but surely,
from a story of a missing wife to a story of a corrupt empire.
He could feel the eyes of his associates on him,
the men who shared his table but would turn on him the moment the blood hit the water.
He had built his kingdom on fear,
but fear was a fickle currency.
If he couldn't find Savannah,
if he couldn't stop the leaks,
the fear would turn into contempt.
His phone buzzed,
vibrating against the mahogany surface like a trapped insect.
It was the Senator.
Roman didn't want to answer,
but he knew he had no choice.
"Roman,"
the voice on the other end was tight,
strained by the weight of a hundred political secrets.
"What the hell is going on?"
"The press is asking about the environmental payoffs."
"I have people at the Department of Justice looking at my donors."
"I'm handling it,"
Roman said,
his voice a low growl.
"You're not handling it,"
the Senator snapped.
"You're losing your grip,
Roman."
"If this touches me,"
"I will bury you myself."
The line went dead,
and Roman threw the phone across the room.
It shattered against the far wall,
a burst of plastic and glass that did nothing to soothe his rage.
He stood up and walked to the window,
looking out at the city he thought he conquered.
Somewhere out there,
Savannah was hiding.
She was the one doing this,
he knew it.
She had always been smarter than he gave her credit for,
always watching,
always listening.
He had mistaken her silence for submission,
and now he was paying the price.
He called Elias into the office.
The big man looked tired,
his eyes shadowed by days of searching.
"Status report,"
Roman commanded.
"We've checked every lead,
sir."
"The silver sedan was a dead end."
"The cabin was empty by the time we got there."
"She's vanished."
"Nobody vanishes,
Elias,"
Roman hissed,
turning to face him.
"She's a woman with a newborn baby."
"She needs warmth,
she needs food,
she needs medical care."
"Check the shelters,
the churches,
the back-alley clinics."
"Check the places where people go when they have nowhere else."
"And find out who's helping her with the tech."
"She didn't learn how to bypass my encryption in a maternity ward."
Elias nodded,
but he didn't move.
"There's something else,
sir."
"Claire Bennett has been asking questions."
"She's been seen talking to a lawyer."
Roman’s eyes narrowed.
Claire.
The woman he had used to punish Savannah was now becoming a liability.
He had thought she was under his thumb,
but Claire was a climber,
and she knew when to jump from a sinking ship.
"Bring her to me,"
Roman said.
"Not to the office."
"To the lake house."
"I want to talk to her in private."
Elias understood the subtext.
In private meant without witnesses.
In private meant with the gloves off.
As Elias left,
Roman felt a sudden,
sharp pain in his hand.
He looked down and saw that he was still clutching the shard of glass from the shattered vase.
Blood was dripping onto the white carpet,
staining it red.
He didn't feel the sting,
only the cold,
hard emptiness in his chest.
He had lost his wife,
he was losing his empire,
and now he was losing his mind.
But he wasn't done yet.
A king didn't go down without burning his kingdom to the ground.
He wiped the blood on his silk handkerchief and sat back down.
He had one more move to make,
May you like
one more card to play.
He just needed to find the woman who held the deck.
