Chapter 2 - The Crash That Was Never an Accident
The Obsidian Room emptied within fifteen minutes.
No one argued.
Not the investors.
Not the politicians.
Not the socialites who had paid months in advance for a reservation.
They left quickly, pretending they had seen nothing.
Lydia sat in a private office behind the restaurant kitchen with a glass of water in both hands. Her fingers would not stop shaking.
Vincent sat across from her.
Bruno stood near the door.
Silas was gone.
Vincent had told him to wait in another room while Bruno verified the story.
But Lydia knew men like Silas did not wait quietly when their secrets began to surface.
“You said you found Isabella near San Francisco,” Vincent said.
“Yes.”
“Why were you there?”
“My father was receiving treatment at a hospital outside the city. I worked nights at a bakery near the freeway.”
Vincent’s eyes lowered.
“Your father.”
“He died last year.”
Lydia said it flatly, because grief had become too expensive to feel every day.
“He had cancer. The bills were almost half a million dollars.”
Vincent looked at her.
“That is why you work three jobs.”
“Yes.”
A pause passed between them.
Then Vincent asked, “Why did you never contact me?”
Lydia laughed quietly.
“Because you are Vincent Romano.”
The answer landed.
“You think I would have hurt you?”
“I thought your people might.”
Vincent did not deny it.
Lydia reached into the hidden pocket inside her uniform and removed a small flash drive.
“I did not only take the necklace,” she said.
Vincent’s gaze sharpened.
“Isabella gave me this too.”
She placed it on the desk.
“She told me it contained proof. She said not to open it unless I had no other choice.”
“Did you?”
“I tried once.” Lydia looked down. “It was encrypted.”
Bruno picked up the drive carefully.
“Silas has access to the crash investigation,” Vincent said. “If he arranged it, he could have buried every record.”
“He did,” Lydia replied. “But Isabella knew he would.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
For two years, he had blamed the rain, the road, the tire company, the police department, himself.
He had hired investigators.
He had threatened witnesses.
He had torn through every version of the official report.
And all the while, the man standing at his side had been feeding him lies.
Bruno’s phone rang.
He listened without speaking.
Then he looked at Vincent.
“Silas left through the rear service exit.”
Vincent stood.
“He ran.”
Bruno nodded. “And one of our financial analysts found unusual transfers from Romano Freight. Large payments routed through shell companies connected to Westbrook Development.”
Vincent’s face went still.
Westbrook Development was owned by Adrian Cole.
A powerful Chicago real-estate mogul who had spent years trying to acquire the freight yards and waterfront property controlled by the Romano organization.
Lydia felt cold.
“Isabella said something about property,” she whispered.
Vincent turned toward her.
“What exactly?”
“She said Silas needed her gone because she found documents. She said he was selling something that did not belong to him.”
Bruno placed a folder on the desk.
“Westbrook has a major acquisition scheduled tomorrow. The old lakeside freight corridor.”
Vincent read the documents.
Then his eyes rose slowly.
“They are trying to take everything,” he said.
Not just his money.
Not just his territory.
His wife had discovered Silas’s betrayal.
So Silas had arranged her death.
And now he planned to use Vincent’s grief to complete the theft.
Lydia stood, despite the pain in her legs.
“You have to stop him.”
Vincent looked at her.
“You do not have to be involved anymore.”
She almost smiled.
“My name is already in this story. Silas knows I am alive.”
Vincent’s face darkened.
That was true.
The moment Lydia spoke in the restaurant, she became a threat.
Vincent walked to the window, looking out over the dark city.
Then he made a call.
“Find Silas,” he said. “Freeze every Romano account he can access. Put security on Lydia Harrison and anyone connected to her.”
Lydia’s eyes widened.
“I do not need guards.”
“You need protection.”
“I have spent two years surviving without your protection.”
Vincent turned back toward her.
“I know.”
The words were quiet.
“I failed Isabella,” he said. “I will not fail you too.”
Lydia looked at the sapphire pendant against her chest.
For the first time, she wondered whether Isabella had been right.
May you like
Maybe Vincent was not the danger.
Maybe he had been trapped inside the same lie.
