Chapter 4: What Vincent Knew
Roman did not go to Lincoln Square that night.
He sat in his study until two in the morning with the custody document on the desk in front of him and the photograph of the nursery beside it, and he did not move.
Marco waited in the chair across from him, which was unusual.
Marco did not typically wait.
He delivered information and left.
The fact that he stayed meant he understood something Roman had not yet said out loud.
At 2:14 in the morning — almost exactly the same time Celeste had left, Roman noticed — he looked up.
"Bring Vincent in tomorrow," he said.
"Not the office.
Here."
"What time?"
"Eight."
Marco nodded and left.
Vincent Caruso arrived at 8:03, which was itself a small thing Roman noticed.
Vincent was a man who was always precisely on time.
8:03 meant something had made him hesitate before coming upstairs.
He walked into the study with his jacket buttoned and his expression arranged into its usual careful neutrality.
Roman was standing at the window with his back to the room.
"Sit down, Vincent."
"Good morning." Vincent sat.
"Marco said you wanted to go over the Meridian contracts—"
"How long have you known where she is?"
The sentence in the room changed.
Vincent's hands, which had been moving toward the briefcase clasp, went still.
"Roman—"
"I'm going to ask you one more time." Roman turned from the window.
"How long."
Vincent looked at him.
Something moved across his face — not guilt exactly, but the particular expression of a man who had prepared for this conversation and found that preparation insufficient.
"Six weeks," he said.
"Since before she left."
"Since just before, yes."
Roman crossed to the desk and sat down.
He did not raise his voice.
That, too, was something Vincent would understand.
"She came to me," Vincent said.
"I want you to know that.
I didn't go to her.
She called me and asked to meet, and I went because she sounded—" He stopped.
"She sounded like someone who needed to talk to a person you hadn't frightened yet."
The words landed without drama.
"She showed me the custody filing," Vincent continued.
"She asked me to witness it.
I did."
"You witnessed a legal document against me without telling me."
"Yes."
"You've worked for me for eleven years."
"I have." Vincent met his eyes.
"And in eleven years I've watched you build something that would impress anyone who didn't know the cost.
Celeste knew the cost.
She paid it for six years and she stopped being willing to pay it." He paused.
"I'm not your enemy, Roman.
But I wasn't going to be her obstacle either."
Roman was quiet for a moment.
"Is she safe?"
Vincent blinked.
Whatever answer he had prepared, that was not the question he expected.
"Yes," he said.
"She's safe."
"The baby."
"Fine.
Both of them are fine."
Roman looked at the desk.
The photograph of the nursery was face-down now, where he had turned it the previous night.
"She named her," he said.
It came out quieter than he intended.
Vincent said nothing.
"The blanket.
The letter E." Roman looked up.
"What's her name?"
Vincent was still for a long moment.
"That's not mine to tell you," he said.
Roman nodded once.
He had expected that answer.
He almost respected it.
"I'm not going to use what you told me to find her," Roman said.
"I want you to know that."
"I believe you," Vincent said.
Then, carefully: "But Roman — there's something else you should know.
Something that isn't about Celeste."
Roman looked at him.
"The photograph that was left on your desk," Vincent said.
"I didn't leave it."
Roman went still.
"I know about the nursery because Celeste told me.
But I never took a photograph of it.
I never had reason to go into that room." Vincent leaned forward slightly.
"Someone else has been inside your penthouse.
Someone who knew about that room and wanted you to know they knew."
The room was very quiet.
"That means," Roman said slowly, "someone has been watching Celeste long enough to know what she built in there."
"Yes," Vincent said.
"And they wanted you distracted.
Pointed at her.
Pointed at me." He paused.
"While they did something else."
Roman's phone buzzed on the desk.
He looked at the screen.
It was his operations manager.
The message was four words.
May you like
*Meridian warehouse.
Come now.*
