Chapter 2 - The Judge's DilemmaJudge Arthur Davies broke away from a knot of city councilmen the moment he saw Roman standing by the gift table. His face was flushed with the arrogant self-importance of a man who spent decades playing God in a courtroom. He adjusted his heavy gold-rimmed glasses and marched over, his hand outstretched with the practiced insincerity of a politician smelling a scandal.
"Costa," Judge Davies barked, trying to project authority that didn't belong in a social ballroom. "I wasn't aware your business interests extended to private family ceremonies. Particularly ones where you haven't been invited."
Roman didn't take the judge's hand. He let his arm hang loosely at his side, his gaze dropping to the judge's outstretched palm before rising back to meet his eyes with chilling indifference.
"Judge Davies," Roman replied, his voice unhurried. "I handle logistics in this city. And right now, I'm auditing a few investments."
Davies stiffened, his eyes narrowing. Everyone within a ten-foot radius stopped breathing. The federal task force the judge had been quietly assembling against Roman's shipping yards was no secret in high-stakes circles, but to have Roman bring it up publicly, at his own daughter's wedding reception, was a declaration of war.
"If you're here to cause a disruption, security can escort you out," Davies hissed under his breath, leaning in so only Roman and I could hear.
"Security?" Roman let out a short, humorless laugh that made the judge flinch. "Arthur, the men standing at those doors outside report directly to my logistics director. If you ask them to remove me, you're going to find out very quickly who actually signs the permits for the municipal dock expansions."
I watched the transformation on the judge's face—from arrogant indignation to cold, calculating fear. He looked at me then, really looked at me, seeing past the $6,200 silk dress and the diamond-and-sapphire earrings Roman had provided. He saw the daughter of a ruined financier whom his future son-in-law had tried to crush into dust, now standing arm-in-arm with the most dangerous man in the state.
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"Sadi," the judge muttered, trying a different tactic. "Surely your father would be ashamed to see you associating with—"
"My father is dead, Judge Davies," I interrupted, my voice steady and cold enough to freeze water. "And the only person in this room who should be ashamed of their associations is standing right beside your daughter."
