Chapter 7 - JUDGMENT AT PIER 42Evelyn stepped backward, her manicured fingers digging into her palms. "Roman, listen to me. We're partners. We're supposed to be married! You can't choose a kitchen maid over the future of the Calder empire—"
"Empire?" Roman interrupted, his voice dropping to a terrifying, arctic whisper. "You think this city is an empire? It’s a graveyard, Evelyn. And you just dug your own plot."
From the shadows behind the crates, Marcus and four armed operatives stepped forward, blocking every exit.
"Take her to the basement of the Towson estate," Roman commanded without a glance back. "Lock her in the dark. Let her find out what a real nightmare feels like. And strip her of every asset bearing my name by sunrise."
Evelyn screamed as Marcus grabbed her arm, her high heels clicking frantically against the floor as she was dragged screaming into the night.
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Roman looked down at Nora. She had slipped into unconsciousness against his shoulder, her breathing shallow but steady. He pressed a kiss against her cold forehead—a gesture so uncharacteristic, so fiercely protective, that his head of security looked away in stunned silence.
"Get the medical chopper," Roman ordered, carrying her toward the waiting vehicle. "And ready my private doctor. If she loses a single drop of blood, the men responsible will answer to me personally."
