Chapter 4 - The Hunt for Elena
The estate was eerily quiet once Sabrina was gone. Her designer luggage had been tossed down the front steps into the drizzling rain, and she had been driven off the property in an unmarked sedan by two of Roman’s most trusted enforcers, headed straight for a federal holding facility where her extradition paperwork was already waiting.
Roman sat in his private study, the desk lamp casting a warm, lonely glow over the miniature baby shoes and Elena’s letter.
He hadn't slept in thirty-six hours. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Elena walking out into the rain with her single suitcase, carrying his child, refusing to beg, refusing to make a scene, simply walking away from a man who had proved himself unworthy of her loyalty.
He picked up his encrypted satellite phone and dialed a direct number.
"Marco," Roman said the second the line connected. "Find her."
"Mr. Marino, we've been tracking her credit card and cell phone ping," Marco’s voice came through crisp and steady. "She checked into a secure, luxury residential apartment building in White Plains under her maiden name, Vale. She hasn't left the building since she arrived."
"Is she alone?"
"Yes, sir. Just her and her personal effects. Her OB-GYN is Dr. Katherine Sterling, whose clinic is located three blocks away. She had an appointment yesterday morning."
"How is the baby?" Roman asked, his voice tightening in spite of his best efforts to sound controlled.
"Dr. Sterling reports that Mrs. Marino is experiencing stress-induced hypertension, which is expected given the circumstances, but the baby is healthy and developing normally. Due date is approximately four weeks from now."
Roman closed his eyes, a profound wave of relief washing over him, instantly replaced by a deep, aching sorrow. Four weeks. In four weeks, his child would be born, and right now, he had no right to be in the delivery room. He had no right to hold his wife's hand, or to ask for her forgiveness.
"Get the car ready," Roman instructed. "We're going to White Plains."
"Sir, are you sure that's wise?" Marco cautioned gently. "Mrs. Marino made it very clear she wanted space. If you show up unannounced at her apartment, it could trigger another medical spike—"
"I am not asking for your permission, Marco," Roman snapped, his voice carrying the old authority. "Get the car."
Two hours later, a black armored Maybach pulled off the interstate and slipped quietly into the underground parking garage of the White Plains residential tower. Roman sat in the back seat, staring out the tinted window at the elevator lobby. He didn't go upstairs immediately. Instead, he sat in the dark car for nearly an hour, watching the security monitors feed footage from the lobby, waiting for a glimpse of her.
At 4:00 PM, she stepped out of the elevator.
She was wearing a loose-fitting navy blue sweater and dark leggings, her blond hair pulled back into a simple, elegant clip. Her pregnancy was prominent now, a gentle, beautiful curve beneath her clothes that she shielded instinctively with one hand resting gently over her stomach. She looked tired, her face pale, but there was an unmistakable aura of calm determination about her. She wasn't the broken, weeping wife he had imagined in his guilt-ridden nightmares. She was a woman who had survived the worst he had to offer and had come out the other side entirely unbroken.
Roman reached for the door handle of the Maybach, his heart hammering against his ribs in a way it hadn't since his very first corporate takeover battle. But before he could push the door open, a sleek white sedan pulled into the adjacent parking space, and a man stepped out from behind the wheel.
May you like
Roman froze.
The man was Julian Vance—Victor Vance’s younger brother and primary enforcer in the tristate area.
