Chapter 3 - THE FROZEN ASSETSThe glass dining table in the conservatory was littered with brochures for European vacations and a high-end tablet displaying real estate listings in Monaco. Sabrina was scrolling through a portfolio of coastal villas, humming softly to herself as she sipped her espresso.
She looked up when Roman stepped into the room. He wasn't running. He wasn't shouting. He walked with the terrifying, measured stillness of a man who had just realized his entire world was built on quicksand.
You look pale, Roman, Sabrina said, leaning back in her velvet chair. Did the ghost of domestic bliss finally clear out of the guest room?
Roman stopped three feet from the table. His eyes were cold, stripped of every ounce of the charm and calculated warmth he used in boardrooms.
Where is the Meridian file? he asked.
Sabrina’s smile didn’t falter, though her hand tightened fractionally around her coffee cup. Her eyes flicked toward the doorway before returning to his face.
What are you talking about?
The file, Sabrina. The one containing the offshore routing numbers for the shipping ports in Halifax. The one you accessed from my private terminal at 3:00 AM last Tuesday while I was asleep.
A slow, knowing smile spread across Sabrina’s lips. She set her cup down with a delicate clink. The playful, submissive mistress vanished in an instant, replaced by a cold, calculating operative.
You’re a brilliant strategist, Roman, but you always trusted the quiet ones too much, she said, her voice dropping its soft cadence for something sharp and clinical. You thought Elena was just a decorative ornament. You never imagined she was the anchor keeping your rotting empire afloat.
It was you. All of it.
Viktor says hello, by the way, Sabrina replied, standing up and smoothing the front of her designer trousers. He appreciates the clean transition of assets. By tomorrow morning, every shell corporation registered to Marino Holdings will be frozen by federal regulators under RICO provisions. Your accounts are already locked. Try logging into your primary terminal right now. Go ahead.
Roman didn't flinch. He pulled his smartphone from his pocket, opened the private banking app, and tapped his thumb against the screen.
Access Denied. Account Frozen by Order of the U.S. District Court.
Sabrina picked up her leather briefcase from the floor beside her chair.
You should have stayed with your wife, Roman. At least she had the brains to keep you alive. Instead, you traded a fortress for a paper doll.
She turned toward the double doors leading to the courtyard. Before she could take two steps, the heavy oak doors swung inward.
Marco, the head of household operations who had supposedly resigned that morning, stood blocking the exit. Flanking him were two men in dark suits—not estate staff, but the elite security detail Roman had personally trained years ago, men whose loyalty belonged to Elena, not the Marino syndicate.
Where do you think you're going, Sabrina? Marco’s voice was as flat as a sheet of galvanized steel.
May you like
Sabrina’s composure cracked for a microsecond. Her eyes darted to Roman. You can’t touch me. The federal marshals are already—
The federal marshals aren't coming to rescue you, Sabrina, Roman said quietly, closing the distance between them with terrifying speed. They’re coming for Viktor. And you’re going to help us write the introduction.
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