Chapter 4 - The Midnight VisitorThe penthouse was dead silent at 2:00 AM. I sat by the massive glass window in the guest suite, wrapped in a plush silk robe Roman had provided, watching the red and green navigation lights of cargo ships drifting slowly across the dark waters of the harbor.
A sharp, urgent chime from the private elevator foyer broke the silence.
I froze. My breath hitched in my throat. I stood up silently, creeping toward the hallway just as a muffled commotion echoed from the security desk downstairs.
"Sir, you cannot be here without an appointment—" a guard's voice started.
"Save your breath before I have your license revoked," a cold, clipped voice snapped back.
Cassian.
He had found me faster than even Roman had anticipated. I backed away into the shadows of the hallway as heavy, furious footsteps echoed up the private stairwell. Roman’s security team had clearly intercepted him, but Cassian was a Valtieri; he carried enough political and financial leverage to bulldoze past front-line guards in the dead of night.
The penthouse doors burst open. Cassian stood in the entryway, his tuxedo jacket gone, his white shirt collar unbuttoned, and his expression twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated rage. Two of Roman’s guards were right behind him, their hands resting near their tactical holsters, waiting for Roman's word.
Roman stepped out from his study down the hall, wearing a dark cashmere sweater, looking as calm as if he were greeting a late-night business partner instead of an enraged ex-fiancé.
"You're trespassing, Cassian," Roman said smoothly, stepping into the living room. "And you look like a man who just lost a very expensive poker game."
Cassian ignored Roman entirely, his dark eyes scanning the room until they locked onto me where I stood half-hidden in the hallway. "Elena," he hissed, taking a sharp step forward. "Get your coat. You are coming home right now before your father publicly disowns you and freezes every penny you've ever earned."
"She’s already home, Cassian," Roman replied, stepping directly into Cassian’s path, blocking his line of sight to me.
"Stay out of this, Vescari! This is a family matter!" Cassian snarled, his hand instinctively dropping toward his side where he usually carried a concealed piece.
Before Cassian's fingers could even brush his jacket, Roman’s guards moved with terrifying speed. One of them swept Cassian’s legs out from under him while the other pinned his arm behind his back, pressing him firmly against the quartz kitchen island.
"You brought a weapon into my home," Roman said, his voice terrifyingly quiet as he walked slowly toward Cassian. He reached into Cassian’s jacket, pulled out a heavy, pearl-handled revolver, and tossed it casually onto the coffee table. "That’s a severe breach of etiquette, even for a Valtieri."
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"Let me go, you bastard!" Cassian choked out against the counter.
"Listen to me very carefully, Cassian," Roman leaned down, speaking softly into Cassian’s ear. "Elena is never going back to you. If you ever come within five hundred yards of her again, I won't just ruin your shipping ports—I'll dismantle your family's entire legacy brick by brick. Now get him out of my building."
