Chapter 3 - THE MAN VICTOR CALLED BROTHER
Victor’s brother was named Adrian Romano.
I had seen him twice during my eight months at the estate.
Both times, he arrived after midnight.
Both times, Victor dismissed half the staff before Adrian entered the house.
He was thirty-eight, handsome in the polished way Victor was dangerous, with dark hair, expensive watches and the smile of a politician who already knew where every camera was.
The first time I saw him, he tipped me fifty dollars for bringing coffee.
The second time, he asked whether I was single.
Victor had been standing twenty feet away.
Adrian never asked again.
Now I stared at Dominic.
“Adrian was here?”
Victor’s voice was so calm that it frightened me.
“Security logged him entering the west elevators at eleven twenty-two,” Dominic said.
“Why wasn’t I told?”
“He said he was visiting Elise.”
My head turned.
“Me?”
Dominic nodded.
“He never entered this room. Cameras show him leaving the elevator, disappearing near the service corridor for nine minutes, then going back downstairs.”
Victor’s jaw tightened.
“What’s in the service corridor?”
“Medication storage. Linen. Electrical access.”
Victor looked immediately toward the IV running into my arm.
Dominic did too.
My stomach twisted.
Victor ripped the call button from its holder and pressed it.
A nurse hurried inside less than thirty seconds later.
He pointed toward my IV.
“Disconnect that.”
“Mr. Romano, I need a doctor’s—”
“Disconnect it.”
The nurse looked at me.
I nodded.
My heart was suddenly racing.
Within ten minutes, the room filled with doctors, hospital security and two men who clearly belonged to Victor rather than the hospital.
My medication bags were removed and sealed.
Blood was drawn.
Victor stood against the wall like a statue while every tube, needle and label was checked.
Nothing appeared contaminated.
Still, he ordered an armed guard outside my door.
Then another inside.
“You’re overreacting,” I said after the doctors left.
Victor looked at me as though I had suggested juggling grenades.
“Someone fired armor-piercing rounds at my six-year-old son.”
“And now I have two men watching me sleep.”
“You will have four when you return home.”
“I’m not returning to your house.”
“Yes, you are.”
“We discussed this.”
“We discussed marriage.”
“And I said no.”
“I heard you.”
“Good.”
“The protection remains.”
I groaned.
Victor ignored me.
Dominic stepped closer.
“There’s something else.”
Victor’s expression said he was running out of patience.
Dominic handed him a phone.
A photograph filled the screen.
The image showed Adrian standing beside a dark-haired man outside a restaurant.
Victor stared at it.
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“Who is he?”
“Mateo Salazar.”
Even I knew that name.
Everyone in Chicago did.
Salazar ran a criminal organization on the south side that had been at war with the Romanos for years.
Two months earlier, a nightclub tied to him had burned.
Rumor said Victor ordered it.
Rumor also said Salazar had promised revenge.
Victor handed the phone back.
“Where did you get this?”
“Anonymous message.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning someone wanted you to see it.”
Victor began pacing.
“Could be fabricated.”
“We checked metadata. Image is real.”
“Context?”
“Unknown.”
Victor stopped.
“What was Adrian doing at this hospital?”
“We’re working on it.”
“Work faster.”
Dominic left.
For the next several minutes, Victor did not speak.
I watched him.
“Do you think your brother ordered the attack?”
“No.”
“You didn’t sound convincing.”
Victor looked at me.
“Adrian is many things.”
“Such as?”
“Arrogant. Reckless. Greedy.”
“Strong family endorsement.”
“He is not stupid.”
“Would betraying you be stupid?”
“Extremely.”
I studied his face.
“You care about him.”
Victor’s gaze hardened.
“He is my brother.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
He turned toward the window.
“When our father died, Adrian was twenty-two. I was eighteen.”
“How?”
“Heart attack.”
Something in his voice told me the answer was not that simple.
“And your mother?”
“Gone before that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“You say that about everything?”
“Usually.”
I smiled faintly.
Victor glanced at me.
For one second, some of the tension left his shoulders.
Then my phone buzzed.
It sat on the bedside table, where a nurse had placed it after surgery.
I reached for it.
Victor got there first.
“Seriously?”
“Unknown number.”
“It’s my phone.”
“It could be a threat.”
“It could be the pharmacy.”
He stared at the screen.
I held out my hand.
Victor reluctantly gave it to me.
The message contained only four words.
ASK WHO PAID CALEB.
My blood went cold.
Victor noticed immediately.
“What?”
I showed him.
He took the phone.
“Who knows about your brother?”
“Everyone at the agency knew I worked for his bills.”
“Who knows his hospital?”
“My supervisor. A few coworkers.”
“Anyone at the estate?”
“You.”
“Besides me.”
“I don’t know.”
Victor called Dominic back.
Within minutes, men were checking the number.
It was disposable.
Untraceable.
Victor stood beside my bed, staring at the message.
“Who paid Caleb?” he asked.
“No one.”
“Think.”
“I pay his bills.”
“All of them?”
“Most.”
“Most is not all.”
I hesitated.
“There was a donation.”
Victor’s eyes sharpened.
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
“How much?”
“Twenty thousand.”
He stared at me.
“And you never wondered where twenty thousand dollars came from?”
“Of course I wondered.”
“What did the hospital say?”
“Anonymous donor.”
Victor’s expression became dangerous.
“Anonymous donors don’t choose one twenty-nine-year-old patient out of nowhere.”
“I thought maybe it was through the charity fund.”
“What treatment?”
“Immunotherapy.”
“And it was approved?”
“Yes.”
Victor immediately called someone.
“Get Caleb Carter’s full hospital financial records.”
I reached for his wrist.
“No.”
He looked at my hand.
Then at me.
“You cannot keep invading our lives.”
“You were shot in my home.”
“That doesn’t make you my owner.”
His expression tightened at the word.
I released him.
“I know you’re trying to protect us.”
“I am.”
“But you don’t get to decide everything.”
Victor slowly lowered the phone.
Progress.
Tiny progress.
“I’ll ask Caleb,” I said.
“You’re not telling him about the attack?”
“He’s not stupid. He watches the news.”
“He hasn’t.”
I frowned.
“What did you do?”
“I had the television removed from his room.”
My mouth fell open.
“You did what?”
“He needs rest.”
“He is twenty-nine years old!”
“He has a compromised immune system.”
“He still has constitutional rights!”
Victor looked genuinely confused.
Apparently nobody had ever accused him of violating constitutional rights in a hospital room.
I grabbed my phone.
“I’m calling him.”
Victor sighed.
Caleb answered on the third ring.
“Elise?”
His voice instantly brought tears to my eyes.
“Hey.”
“You sound terrible.”
“Thanks.”
“What happened?”
Victor folded his arms.
I gave him a look.
“A small accident at work.”
Victor mouthed, Small?
I ignored him.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Some maniac transferred me to a hospital room with a fireplace.”
I stared at Victor.
He looked away.
Caleb continued.
“There’s a fruit basket that costs more than my car.”
“You don’t own a car.”
“Exactly.”
I laughed carefully.
Then I asked, “Caleb, do you remember that donation three months ago?”
Silence.
My smile faded.
“Caleb?”
“Why?”
“Because I need to know who sent it.”
“I told you. I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
Victor looked at me.
Caleb exhaled.
“Elise.”
“Who?”
“I promised.”
“To whom?”
Another silence.
Then my brother said quietly, “Adrian Romano.”
Victor stopped breathing.
I stared at him.
“What?”
“He came to see me.”
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“Why?”
“He said he knew you worked for his family.”
Victor’s face turned white with anger.
“He said Victor didn’t know about it.”
I looked at Victor.
Caleb continued.
“He offered to pay everything.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I asked him.”
“And?”
Caleb hesitated.
“He said because someday he might need a favor from you.”
Victor crossed the room and took the phone from my hand.
“Caleb.”
My brother went silent.
“This is Victor Romano.”
“Oh.”
Victor’s voice dropped.
“What favor?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Adrian ever contact you again?”
“No.”
“Did he give you anything?”
“No.”
“Think carefully.”
Caleb paused.
Then said, “A business card.”
Victor’s eyes sharpened.
“What’s on it?”
“His number.”
“Anything else?”
“Not really.”
“Caleb.”
“Well…”
My brother sounded uncertain.
“There was something written on the back.”
“What?”
A long silence.
Then Caleb read the words.
“When she saves the boy, call me.”
Nobody moved.
My pulse hammered.
Victor’s eyes met mine.
“When she saves the boy.”
Three months before the attack.
Three months before I threw myself over Leo.
Three months before anyone could possibly know what I would do.
Unless someone had planned for me to be there.
Unless someone had planned the attack.
And planned my survival.
Victor ended the call.
His expression had changed completely.
This was no longer suspicion.
It was war.
He looked at me.
“Elise.”
I barely managed to speak.
“What?”
“That attack wasn’t meant to kill Leo.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
May you like
Victor held my phone tightly.
“It was meant to make you save him.”
