Chapter 2 - FORTY-EIGHT MILLION DOLLARS
The Bellmont Hotel had a private entrance used by celebrities, politicians, and people who wanted to avoid being photographed beside either category.
Roman’s driver took us through an underground garage.
No one spoke in the elevator.
I stood wrapped in Roman DeLuca’s jacket over a torn wedding dress while my sister held my hand and my father stared at the floor.
It was not how I had imagined leaving my wedding.
Then again, nothing about the last twenty minutes belonged to imagination.
On the twenty-second floor, Roman led us into a suite that had been converted into a temporary legal office. Three attorneys sat around a conference table with laptops, folders, and enough documents to bury a person.
A woman in a navy suit stood.
“Ms. DuPont. I’m Naomi Chen.”
She extended her hand.
“I represent you.”
I did not take it.
“No, you don’t.”
Naomi paused.
“My retainer has been paid, but my duty is to you.”
“Paid by him?”
I pointed toward Roman.
“Yes.”
“Then you represent him.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“How does that work?”
“Mr. DeLuca paid a flat retainer into an independent client trust. He cannot direct my advice, terminate me, or recover the money.”
Roman had already removed himself to the far side of the room.
Again, deliberate.
Again, planned.
I looked at Naomi.
“You knew I was leaving the wedding?”
“No.”
That answer surprised me.
“What did you know?”
“That Mr. DeLuca expected you might need independent counsel today.”
Might.
I glanced at Roman.
He showed no reaction.
Naomi pulled out a chair.
“Please sit. I can explain the debt purchase and your options.”
My father moved first.
“Eleanor.”
I turned.
He looked ten years older than he had that morning.
“We should hear them.”
I sat.
Chloe stayed beside me.
Roman remained near the window.
Naomi opened the first folder.
“DuPont Maritime owes forty-eight point two million dollars across three secured credit facilities. Kensington Capital acquired those loans eighteen months ago.”
“I know.”
“What you may not know is that Kensington accelerated the default provisions aggressively.”
My father nodded.
“They were within their rights.”
“Technically.”
Naomi slid over a schedule.
“They also purchased insurance against your default.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Roman answered from the window.
“It means Preston’s family made money if your father failed.”
Naomi looked at him once, then continued.
“And they structured the proposed marriage settlement to transfer certain DuPont voting shares to a Kensington-controlled trust.”
I turned to Dad.
“Voting shares?”
He looked miserable.
“You were never supposed to see that document.”
“Why?”
“Because I was trying to protect you from the details.”
“That worked beautifully.”
He closed his eyes.
Chloe squeezed my hand.
Naomi continued carefully.
“Under the marriage agreement, once you married Preston, twenty-six percent of DuPont Maritime’s voting control would eventually move into a trust jointly managed by the Kensington family.”
I felt cold.
“So he wasn’t marrying me to forgive the debt.”
“No.”
“He was marrying me to take the company.”
“Yes.”
My father whispered, “I thought it bought us time.”
I looked at him.
“By selling me?”
His face broke.
The anger I had carried for months suddenly became more complicated.
He had failed me.
That was true.
He had also been drowning.
And drowning people sometimes grabbed the person nearest them.
That did not make it right.
But it made it human.
Naomi pushed a second folder toward me.
“At nine twelve this morning, Kensington Capital sold all three DuPont facilities to DeLuca Holdings.”
“Why would they sell?”
Roman answered.
“Because I offered cash.”
“How much?”
“Thirty-six.”
My head snapped toward him.
“You paid thirty-six million dollars for forty-eight million dollars of debt?”
“Yes.”
“So you immediately made twelve million dollars?”
“Only if your father pays me.”
Every eye turned toward him.
I stood.
“What do you want?”
He looked at me.
“Sit.”
“No.”
He did not repeat the order.
I walked closer.
“You walk into my wedding, buy my family’s debt, bring lawyers, know exactly what Preston was doing, and now you expect me to believe this is some generous intervention?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I expect you to believe it was strategic.”
“At least that’s honest.”
“Yes.”
“Strategic how?”
Roman glanced toward Naomi.
She closed her folder.
“This part is his to explain.”
I folded my arms.
Roman looked at my father.
“Seven years ago, DuPont Maritime owned a terminal lease in New Bedford.”
Dad went still.
“What about it?”
“My brother was negotiating to purchase a minority interest.”
Dad’s face changed.
I saw recognition.
Roman continued.
“Daniel DeLuca met with you three times.”
“I remember him.”
“On the fourth meeting, he never arrived.”
My father looked away.
Roman’s voice remained calm.
“He was found dead the next morning.”
Chloe inhaled sharply.
I stared at him.
“Preston’s family?”
“I believe so.”
“You believe?”
“I know enough to know. Not enough to prove.”
Dad spoke quietly.
“Daniel told me the Kensingtons were pressuring him.”
Roman turned.
“You never told anyone.”
“I was afraid.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
Dad continued.
“They had judges. Police. Banks. I had two daughters.”
“And I had a brother.”
The room froze.
My father nodded.
“Yes.”
No defense.
Roman looked out the window.
For the first time, I saw anger beneath his control.
Not hot anger.
Stored anger.
Years of it.
I stepped between them.
“So you bought our debt because my father knew your brother?”
“Partly.”
“What’s the other part?”
Roman’s gaze returned to me.
“Preston is trying to acquire the terminal Daniel wanted.”
“Why?”
“Because someone is moving contraband through the harbor under legitimate shipping manifests.”
My stomach tightened.
“My company?”
“Not your company.”
“My father’s.”
Roman looked at Dad.
“Your employees may be involved. Your executives may be involved. I don’t know yet.”
Dad sank into a chair.
“I would know.”
“Would you?”
Silence.
Roman moved closer to the table.
“Kensington doesn’t need your company. They need your access.”
Naomi opened another document.
“Mr. DeLuca’s proposed restructuring keeps DuPont ownership intact while placing temporary oversight on certain port contracts.”
I laughed softly.
“There it is.”
Roman’s eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“You say you don’t want the company, but you want oversight.”
“Yes.”
“That sounds a lot like control.”
“For six months.”
“And after six months?”
“If the company survives, control returns.”
“If?”
“Eleanor.”
His voice was patient.
That made me angrier.
“My family has been manipulated for eighteen months.”
“I know.”
“I stood at an altar today because a man used debt as a weapon.”
“I know.”
“And now another man who scares him walks in and says he owns that weapon instead.”
Roman did not flinch.
“You should be suspicious.”
“I am.”
“Good.”
“That word again.”
One corner of his mouth moved.
Barely.
I hated that I noticed.
Naomi cleared her throat.
“There is an alternative.”
I turned.
“What?”
“You can refuse Mr. DeLuca’s restructuring.”
Roman said nothing.
Naomi continued.
“If you refuse, he still owns the debt, but the terms remain as written. Your father’s company has thirty days to cure default.”
“Can we?”
Dad shook his head.
“No.”
“So he can take the company.”
“Yes.”
Naomi looked at Roman.
“He can.”
I stared at him.
“And would you?”
Roman’s expression became unreadable.
“If I had to.”
There it was.
Not a savior.
A businessman.
Maybe worse.
Strangely, that made me trust him a little more.
At least he did not ask me to pretend he had wings.
Chloe stood.
“What happens to Eleanor?”
Everyone looked at her.
She pointed at the documents.
“All of you keep talking about companies and debts and terminals. What happens to my sister?”
Naomi answered first.
“Nothing legally. She has no personal obligation under the loan documents.”
“And the marriage contract?”
“Unsigned. Irrelevant.”
Chloe looked at me.
“You’re free.”
The words landed slowly.
Free.
I had spent eighteen months arranging my life around the assumption that freedom belonged to other people.
I looked at my hands.
My engagement ring still sat there.
A large diamond.
Preston had chosen it because his mother thought smaller stones suggested uncertainty.
I pulled it off.
Placed it on the table.
The sound was tiny.
But it felt louder than the torn silk.
Roman watched.
“What do I owe you?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“Do not say that.”
“Why?”
“Because nothing is never free.”
His face changed.
“Then owe me the truth.”
I frowned.
“About what?”
“Your father’s company.”
Dad shifted.
Roman continued.
“You worked there before this wedding arrangement.”
“Yes.”
“Operations?”
“Two years.”
“You know the manifests.”
“Yes.”
“You know the people.”
“Yes.”
“I need someone who can tell me what belongs and what doesn’t.”
Dad stood.
“No.”
I turned.
“Dad.”
“No. You are done being used for this company.”
The words surprised me.
Roman looked at him.
“I’m not asking her to take a risk.”
Dad laughed bitterly.
“You brought danger into a church.”
“Danger was already there.”
“Then keep her out of it.”
I looked at my father.
“For eighteen months you told me family meant sacrifice.”
His face tightened.
“Eleanor—”
“You do not get to decide that sacrifice suddenly stops being noble because you feel guilty.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No.”
I swallowed.
“It isn’t.”
The room went quiet.
I looked at Roman.
“What would I do?”
“Review contracts. Explain personnel. Help identify discrepancies.”
“Where?”
“At DuPont offices.”
“Under your guards?”
“If necessary.”
“No.”
His brows lifted.
“No guards?”
“No visible guards.”
“That is not negotiable.”
“Then neither am I.”
We stared at each other.
Chloe whispered, “Oh, this is going to be exhausting.”
Naomi hid a smile.
Roman finally said, “Discrete security.”
“I decide when they enter my office.”
“If there is a threat, no.”
“I decide.”
“No.”
“You really enjoy that word.”
“It saves time.”
I almost smiled despite myself.
Then Roman’s phone vibrated.
He looked down.
Whatever he read erased the moment.
“What?” I asked.
He did not answer immediately.
“Roman.”
His eyes came to mine.
“There was a fire at DuPont Maritime twenty minutes ago.”
My father went white.
“What?”
“Records warehouse.”
Dad grabbed the table.
“All our archived manifests are there.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“Were.”
Naomi stood.
“Intentional?”
Roman looked at his phone again.
“Security footage shows two masked men entering before the fire started.”
My father cursed.
Chloe gripped my arm.
I stared at Roman.
“So someone is destroying evidence.”
“Yes.”
“Because of the wedding?”
“No.”
“How can you know?”
“Because they started before I entered the church.”
The room seemed to shrink.
Roman walked toward the door.
I followed.
“Where are you going?”
“To the warehouse.”
“I’m coming.”
He stopped.
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“My company.”
“Your father’s company.”
“My life.”
“Eleanor—”
“You bought our debt this morning. You want my knowledge. You do not get to put me in a glass box now.”
Roman studied me.
The intensity in his eyes would have frightened me an hour ago.
It still did.
But fear had changed shape.
“Change your clothes,” he said.
I looked down at the torn wedding gown.
“That is the first sensible thing you’ve said.”
He opened the door.
Then paused.
“One more thing.”
“What?”
“If Preston calls, do not answer.”
“Why?”
Roman’s face hardened.
“Because if he knows the warehouse is burning, then he knows we found something he wanted hidden.”
My phone began ringing.
The screen lit up.
PRESTON KENSINGTON.
May you like
Roman and I looked at each other.
The phone kept ringing.
