Chapter 12 - The Ghost from the Federal PenitentiaryTwo weeks after the board meeting, the mail arrived at our penthouse—not through corporate courier, but via a standard federal postal envelope bearing the austere stamp of the Metropolitan Detention Center.
I sat at the minimalist glass kitchen island, running my finger across the handwritten return address: Inmate 849-021: Grant Mercer.
Roman stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the shipping traffic below without turning around. "Burn it," he said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. "You don't owe him ink, paper, or breath."
"No," I replied, grabbing a silver letter opener and slicing the top clean. "I want to see what a king looks like when he realizes his crown was made of tin."
I unfolded the thick, institutional paper. Grant’s once-proud, jagged handwriting was erratic, cramped, and smeared with ink:
Evelyn,
You think you won. You think Roman Caruso loves you for who you are, but you’re just a placeholder. The federal prosecutors didn't find all of our father’s contingency funds. There is a safety deposit box at the Swiss Union Bank in Geneva under the maiden name of our mother—one that contains the true offshore records of every politician and judge who keeps Roman’s syndicates afloat. The moment the Feds look at those files, your precious husband’s entire empire comes down right beside mine. You haven't escaped the cage, little sister. You just moved into a bigger one.
— Grant
May you like
I folded the letter slowly, sliding it back into the envelope. The words were designed to plant a seed of poison—to make me doubt the man who had stood beside me in the fire. But Grant didn't understand what real trust looked like, because he had spent his entire life ruling through terror.
I walked over to Roman, handed him the letter, and watched his dark eyes scan the lines. When Roman finished reading, he didn't look angry. He simply reached out, took the letter from my fingers, and held it over the blue flame of the gas burner on the stove until it curled into black ash.
