Chapter 12 - A Wolf in Silk
By dawn, the storm had broken, leaving behind a sky the color of bruised slate. Inside the penthouse, the dining room smelled of freshly brewed roast coffee and warm buttered croissants.
Sadi sat at the head of the marble table, wrapped in an emerald green silk robe. Her hair was swept back into an elegant knot, showcasing the flawless line of her neck and the diamond studs Roman had given her for their wedding anniversary. Her hands were perfectly steady as she lifted a porcelain teacup to her lips.
Opposite her sat Roman, looking pristine in a tailored charcoal three-piece suit. His sleeves were rolled down, his silver cufflinks gleaming under the chandelier. There wasn't a speck of blood on him, though the quiet, lethal satisfaction in his gray eyes told the entire story of the night.
Silas entered, carrying Marcus’s leather briefcase. He placed it neatly on the sideboard and gave a slight nod. "He’s in the cellar vault. Intact."
Roman didn't look up from his plate. "Did Viktor make the crossing?"
"He abandoned the van at the state line," Silas replied. "He took a private helicopter toward his estate in upstate New York. He knows he lost the docks, but he still has the cloned codes."
"He has copies of dead codes," Roman said smoothly, spreading jam across a slice of toast. "I had the harbor master revoke those routing authorizations at four this morning. Everything Viktor downloaded is useless trash."
Roman looked across the table at Sadi. His expression softened, the cold mafia king vanishing behind the eyes of a husband who adored his wife. "Are you ready to see him?"
Sadi set her cup down. The porcelain made a delicate, crisp sound against the saucer. "I’ve waited two years for this morning, Roman. I was ready before I woke up."
They took the private elevator down—past the eighty floors of luxury condominiums, past the subterranean parking garage, down into the fortified bedrock beneath the city. The cellar wasn't a damp dungeon; it was a brightly lit, sterile room lined with white subway tiles and stainless steel fixtures, resembling an operating room more than a torture chamber.
Marcus Sterling was tied to a heavy steel chair in the center of the room.
His face was swollen, his left eye bruised shut, his lip split. When the reinforced steel door hissed open and Roman walked in, Marcus flinched so hard the chair legs squeaked against the floor.
"Roman—Mr. Vance—please!" Marcus choked out, straining against the nylon zip-ties binding his wrists to the armrests. "I didn't give them anything! I swear! Viktor forced me—he threatened my family—"
"Your family disowned you three hours ago, Marcus," Roman said calmly, leaning against the doorframe, his hands casually shoved into his pockets. "Your father liquidated his shares in your name and signed an apology letter to my foundation. You have no family. You have no money. You don't even have a passport anymore."
Marcus’s lone open eye darted wildly, and then he saw her.
Sadi stepped around Roman, walking into the harsh fluorescent light. She didn't look like the timid, exhausted girl he had kicked across the polished floor of the luxury mall. She walked with the poise of an empress, her emerald silk whispering against the tiles, her chin lifted high.
Marcus froze. "Sadi?"
She stopped two feet in front of him. She looked down at him—not with hatred, not with rage, but with profound, devastating indifference.
"You look small, Marcus," she said.
"Sadi... honey, listen to me," Marcus pleaded, his voice breaking into hysterical sobs. "You know how I get when I'm stressed. The business was going under, the mall was crowded, that girl I was with was annoying me... I lost my temper! It was one kick! Just one! We spent three years together! You loved me!"
"I loved an idea," Sadi replied, her voice smooth, cutting through his excuses like a scalpel. "I loved the idea that if I worked two jobs, cooked your dinners, and endured your insults, one day you would see me as human. But you never saw people, Marcus. You only saw things you could step on to make yourself feel taller."
She reached out and lightly tapped the bruise on his cheek with the tip of her manicured finger. Marcus whimpered.
"When you kicked me," Sadi whispered, leaning down so close he could smell the faint lavender scent of her perfume, "you thought nobody was watching. You thought I was nobody, so hurting me had no price."
She straightened her posture, looking down at him from her full height.
"Roman bought your entire life for six million dollars," Sadi continued. "He bought your debt, your car, your penthouse, and your name. And do you know what he's going to do with it?"
Marcus swallowed hard, trembling. "What?"
"He's giving every penny of your liquidated assets to the women's shelter on 4th Street," she said with a cold, radiant smile. "The one you used to complain about every time you drove past it in your Porsche. You're going to pay for three thousand women to get educations, legal aid, and safety."
Marcus looked ready to vomit. The total erasure of his pride, his money, and his legacy was worse than a bullet. "You can't do this... Vance, don't let her do this! You're a man of business!"
Roman stepped forward, wrapping an arm around Sadi’s waist, pulling her flush against his side. He looked down at Marcus like one would look at an insect beneath a shoe.
"My wife runs my business now, Sterling," Roman said, his voice dropping into pure ice. "And she just gave the order."
Roman nodded toward Silas.
"Take him to the state border. Put him on a bus to the Midwest with fifty dollars in his pocket and a felony warrant flagged in every banking database in North America. If his feet ever touch this state again, bury him."
Silas grabbed the back of the chair. "Understood, Boss."
As Silas dragged Marcus toward the secondary exit, Marcus screamed, cursing, crying, and begging in alternating breaths. The door sealed shut behind them, cutting off the noise completely.
The room was silent again.
Sadi let out a long, slow breath. The invisible weight that had pressed down on her shoulders for two years—the humiliation of the mall, the bruises on her ribs, the shame of being discarded—dissolved into the cold, clean air.
Roman turned her in his arms, his thumb brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek. "Is it enough?"
Sadi looked into the eyes of the man who had torn the world apart to avenge her pride.
May you like
"It’s enough for Marcus," she said softly. Then her gaze hardened toward the doorway. "Now tell me how we kill Viktor Petrov."
***
