Chapter 4 - The Father’s LieRoman had spent most of his adult life believing fear could be controlled if facts were arranged properly.
Arthur destroyed that illusion in one sentence.
“She begged you not to take her back?”
Arthur sat slowly.
“Yes.”
Roman remained standing.
“Why?”
“She thought Vincent had helped Marcus hide her.”
Helen whispered, “She wasn’t certain.”
Arthur nodded.
“She had been injured. Drugged. Confused. But she remembered your father arguing with Marcus before the fire.”
Roman thought of Elizabeth’s diary.
Told Vincent. He asked for proof.
“What happened at St. Agnes?”
Arthur rubbed both hands over his face.
“Vincent sent me because he didn’t trust anyone else. He told me a woman matching Elizabeth’s description had been seen there.”
“You went alone?”
“Yes.”
“And found her.”
“I found her sitting in a private garden.”
Arthur’s voice softened.
“She was thinner. Her hair had been cut because of burns near her neck. She had scars on one arm. But it was Elizabeth.”
Roman pictured his mother alive while fourteen-year-old Roman slept beneath a roof full of condolences.
“What did she say?”
“She asked about you first.”
Roman looked away.
Arthur continued.
“She asked whether you were eating. Whether you were sleeping. Whether Vincent allowed you to return to school.”
A painful laugh escaped Roman.
“That sounds like her.”
“She wanted me to take you and leave Chicago.”
Roman turned back.
“What?”
“She said there were people inside the family who would use you if they couldn’t control her.”
“Did she name Marcus?”
“Yes.”
“And my father?”
Arthur hesitated.
“She said she didn’t know whether Vincent was weak or involved.”
Roman absorbed the distinction.
Weak or involved.
Neither was comforting.
“What did you do?”
“I told her Vincent was waiting.”
Arthur’s eyes filled.
“She became terrified.”
Roman’s voice dropped.
“So you left her there?”
“No.”
Arthur stood.
“I told her I would return that night with a car.”
Roman stared.
“What happened?”
“When I came back, she was gone.”
“Who moved her?”
“I never knew.”
“Did you tell my father?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He nearly killed the director with his bare hands.”
Helen flinched.
Arthur continued quickly.
“He didn’t hurt him. But I had never seen Vincent lose control like that.”
Roman had.
His father’s rage had been legendary.
Yet Roman remembered the months after Elizabeth’s funeral differently.
Vincent becoming quieter.
Drinking alone.
Sleeping in his office.
Roman had assumed grief.
Perhaps it had been guilt.
“Why did my father’s letter imply he learned she was alive later?”
Arthur frowned.
“It doesn’t say exactly when he learned.”
Roman retrieved the letter from his coat.
He reread it.
For forty-one days, I believed my wife was dead.
Then I learned she had survived.
Arthur had seen Elizabeth around six weeks after the funeral.
The timeline fit.
Roman had wanted a contradiction.
There was none.
Only omission.
His father had conveniently failed to mention sending Arthur to find her.
Lily knocked lightly before entering.
“Sorry.”
She held her phone.
“Mr. Kane, Chef Mateo called.”
Roman frowned.
“Why?”
“The mansion manager questioned him about the food log.”
Roman’s expression hardened.
“Which manager?”
“Mr. Talbot.”
Roman knew Talbot.
Marcus had recommended him eleven years earlier.
The same year Arthur and the others disappeared.
Roman pulled out his phone.
“Tell Mateo not to answer anything else.”
Lily hesitated.
“There’s more.”
She showed him a message from the mansion’s digital archive system.
ACCESS ALERT:
HISTORICAL HOUSEHOLD RECORDS REQUESTED FOR DELETION.
User:
G. TALBOT.
Roman stared.
“When?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
Roman immediately called security.
“Lock Gerald Talbot out of every system and keep him on the property.”
The guard began to answer.
Roman cut him off.
“No confrontation. No accusations. Just revoke access.”
He ended the call.
Arthur said, “He worked for Marcus.”
“He works for me now.”
Roman’s voice had gone quiet.
“That apparently does not mean what I thought it meant.”
They returned to the mansion before noon.
Gerald Talbot sat in Roman’s office between two security staff.
He was fifty-eight, immaculate, and visibly angry.
“This is insulting.”
Roman dismissed the guards but left the door open.
“You attempted to delete historical records.”
Talbot scoffed.
“Old payroll files. We’re migrating servers.”
“Why today?”
Silence.
Roman placed Arthur’s termination letter on the desk.
Talbot’s expression changed almost invisibly.
Roman saw it.
“You recognize this.”
“No.”
“You looked at it before answering.”
“I recognize the stationery.”
Roman leaned back.
“Marcus hired you eleven years ago.”
“He recommended me.”
“To replace Helen Brooks.”
“Yes.”
“And within months, every senior servant who knew my mother personally was gone.”
Talbot’s jaw tightened.
“I wasn’t involved.”
“Then why delete their records today?”
“I told you.”
“No. You gave me a sentence.”
Roman slid a printed audit report across the desk.
“Our server retains deleted-file requests for ninety days.”
Talbot looked down.
Roman continued.
“You requested removal of payroll correspondence from the transition project.”
Talbot’s eyes lifted.
“Marcus instructed me years ago that those files contained private severance information.”
“Years ago?”
Talbot realized his mistake.
Roman did not move.
“You just admitted this wasn’t routine migration.”
Talbot said nothing.
Roman leaned forward.
“What did Marcus tell you to erase?”
“I’m done answering.”
“That’s your right.”
Roman picked up his phone.
“My attorneys can ask instead.”
Talbot laughed nervously.
“You think this is a court case?”
“I think falsified financial records usually become one.”
Roman paused.
“And if someone forged documents to steal trust assets, federal investigators may become interested too.”
Talbot’s face lost color.
Roman watched carefully.
There.
Not fear of Roman.
Fear of authorities.
That mattered.
Talbot whispered, “I never forged anything.”
“Who did?”
“I don’t know.”
“You know something.”
Talbot looked toward the open doorway.
Then back.
“Marcus told me the old employees were dangerous.”
“To whom?”
“To the family.”
“What does that mean?”
“He said they knew things that could destroy you.”
Roman almost laughed.
“Destroy me?”
Talbot swallowed.
“He said if Elizabeth’s records surfaced, the government could seize half your legitimate holdings because they were built using contaminated trust money.”
Roman became still.
That possibility had not occurred to him.
Marcus might not have erased the past only to protect himself.
He might have tied Roman’s modern empire to Elizabeth’s stolen assets.
Talbot continued.
“I was told the transition letters were legally approved.”
“By whom?”
“Marcus.”
“Who prepared them?”
Talbot looked down.
“I don’t know.”
Roman knew he was lying.
He let the silence stretch.
Finally Talbot whispered, “There was an attorney.”
“Name.”
“I only met him once.”
“Name.”
Talbot closed his eyes.
“Samuel Voss.”
Helen, standing near the doorway, made a sound.
Roman turned.
She had gone white.
“You know him.”
Helen gripped the doorframe.
“Samuel Voss was Elizabeth’s lawyer.”
Roman stared at Talbot.
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Helen’s voice trembled.
“And he died two weeks before your father.”
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