Chapter 2 - THE SECRET THEIR FATHER TOOK TO HIS GRAVE
“Daniel, I'm going to ask you one more time. What happened at Pier 19?”
Marco Romano stood at the head of the dining table, holding his dead father's letter.
His younger brother stared at the yellow envelope.
“You don't want to discuss this in front of strangers.”
“Then you shouldn't have invited forty strangers to watch you humiliate our mother.”
Daniel's expression hardened.
“Everything I did was to protect this family.”
“From what?”
Daniel glanced toward the woman in the gray silk dress.
Helen Porter, the court-appointed evaluator, was watching him carefully.
“From losing everything Dad spent his life building,” Daniel answered.
Marco placed the letter on the table.
“Explain.”
For a moment, Daniel looked almost frightened.
Then he straightened his shoulders.
“Six years ago, something happened at Pier 19 that nearly destroyed Romano Shipping. Dad handled it. I helped him. And we agreed you'd be better off not knowing.”
Marco's face changed.
“Dad and I never kept business secrets from each other.”
Daniel gave a bitter laugh.
“You really believe that?”
I stood beside Rose Romano, holding a glass of water neither of us had touched.
The old woman's fingers were trembling.
“Daniel,” she whispered. “Please tell him the truth.”
Her younger son looked at her.
“Mother, you don't understand what you're asking.”
“I understand perfectly.”
Those four words silenced him.
Rose sat straighter.
For the first time that evening, she looked less like a frightened elderly woman and more like the woman who had helped Harold Romano build his empire.
“Your father came home from the docks that night,” she said. “His coat was soaked. There was blood on his shirt.”
Marco turned sharply.
“Blood?”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Mother.”
“He kept saying someone could have died.”
Marco looked at his brother.
“Who?”
Daniel didn't answer.
Then someone behind us spoke.
“Marco, perhaps we should give your mother a little privacy.”
I turned.
Elena Mercer, Marco's fiancée, had stepped away from the other guests.
She was thirty-eight, elegant without being showy, and one of the few people in that enormous mansion who always remembered my daughter's name.
Their engagement dinner was supposed to celebrate a wedding planned for the following spring.
Instead, the crystal glasses remained untouched, and the musicians had stopped playing.
Marco looked at Elena.
“I'm not making Mom leave her own table.”
“I wasn't suggesting that,” she replied gently. “I meant everyone else.”
Marco understood.
Within minutes, the guests were escorted toward the drawing room.
Daniel attempted to follow them.
Marco stopped him.
“You stay.”
Helen remained as well.
So did Elena.
And because Rose wouldn't release my hand, I stayed beside her.
When the dining room finally emptied, Daniel spoke.
“There was a loading accident. A worker got hurt. Dad didn't want the authorities involved because the cargo paperwork had problems.”
“What kind of problems?” Marco asked.
“Documentation. Insurance. Nothing that matters now.”
“Someone was injured. That matters.”
Daniel rubbed his forehead.
“You weren't there.”
“No. Apparently nobody wanted me there.”
A painful silence followed.
Then Rose reached toward the yellow envelope.
“Read the rest, sweetheart.”
Marco unfolded his father's letter again.
His eyes moved down the page.
I watched his jaw tighten.
He read aloud.
“Daniel will tell you he was protecting the company. He may even believe it. But protecting the company and protecting the truth are not always the same thing.”
Daniel turned away.
Marco continued.
“The man financing Daniel will eventually want something Harold Romano would never have sold. When that day comes, listen to your mother.”
Marco slowly lowered the letter.
“What wouldn't Dad sell?”
Rose looked at him.
“The waterfront.”
Daniel's head snapped around.
“Mother, that's not what he meant.”
“Yes, it is.”
She looked directly at her younger son.
“Your father said there were men who wanted to turn our docks into something ugly. He said the workers would pay the price.”
Marco's voice dropped.
“Who was financing Daniel?”
Daniel said nothing.
Helen opened the folder resting beside her chair.
“Mr. Romano, I noticed a company mentioned repeatedly in the financial information attached to the guardianship petition.”
Daniel immediately interrupted.
“That information is confidential.”
Helen didn't look at him.
“The petition identifies Sloane Capital Holdings as a creditor whose interests could be affected by Mrs. Romano's capacity.”
Marco became motionless.
“Victor Sloane?”
Daniel swallowed.
Marco stepped closer.
“You told me Sloane was only financing the Newark expansion.”
“He is.”
“Then why does he have an interest in Mother's guardianship?”
“Because the company's financial future depends on decisions she refuses to understand!”
Rose flinched.
Marco's voice turned cold.
“Don't speak about her like that.”
Daniel looked exhausted.
“Fine. You want the truth? We're carrying debts you don't know about. If we don't restructure before Friday, Sloane can force us into a situation we cannot afford.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because every time I've suggested making changes, you've treated me like the little brother who doesn't know how business works!”
His words hung between them.
For the first time, I understood that Daniel's resentment hadn't begun that afternoon.
It had been growing for years.
Marco stared at him.
“You should have come to me.”
“I tried.”
“You tried to take Mother's property.”
Daniel looked away.
Rose whispered, “You told me Marco would lose his home.”
Daniel's expression softened.
“Mother, I was trying to keep us together.”
“By sending me away?”
He had no answer.
Helen closed her folder.
“I won't make a final determination tonight. But I need to document what I've witnessed, including Mrs. Romano's own wishes.”
Daniel looked at her sharply.
“You can't withdraw the petition yourself.”
“No,” Helen replied. “But I can report concerns about the information supporting it.”
Marco nodded.
“Good.”
Then he turned toward me.
“Margaret, take Mom upstairs. Stay with her until she's comfortable.”
Rose tightened her grip.
“Not yet.”
She looked toward Daniel.
“Where is Harold's ring?”
Daniel sighed.
“Mother—”
“Where is it?”
After a long hesitation, he reached into his jacket and removed a small velvet pouch.
He placed it on the table.
Rose began crying again.
I opened the pouch.
Inside was Harold Romano's plain gold wedding band.
I carefully returned it to Rose.
She pressed it against her heart.
“My husband gave me this,” she whispered. “It isn't yours to take.”
Daniel lowered his eyes.
For one brief moment, I thought he might apologize.
Instead, he said, “You'll understand someday.”
Rose's expression changed.
“No, Daniel. I already understand.”
I helped her upstairs.
In her bedroom, the empty jewelry box waited on the dresser.
Her husband's photographs were still missing.
I settled her into her favorite chair and brought her the blue porcelain cup Harold had used every morning.
She held it with both hands.
“Margaret?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Would you open the bottom drawer of my dresser?”
Inside were folded scarves, a pair of reading glasses, and an old photograph.
Rose pointed to it.
“That was taken the last time Harold visited the waterfront.”
I lifted the picture.
Three men stood beside a warehouse marked PIER 19.
Harold Romano was in the middle.
Daniel stood on his right.
And on his left was a tall man with silver hair and a long dark coat.
I recognized him immediately.
Victor Sloane.
But it wasn't the photograph that frightened me.
It was what Rose said next.
“That man came to see me yesterday.”
My fingers tightened around the picture.
“Mr. Sloane?”
She nodded.
“He told me Daniel was doing what Harold would have wanted.”
“What else did he say?”
Rose looked toward the bedroom door.
Then she whispered, “He asked me where I kept the little red book.”
I frowned.
“What red book?”
“The one Harold told me never to give Daniel.”
Before I could answer, Rose turned the photograph over.
On the back, in Harold's handwriting, were seven words.
IF THEY FIND THE LEDGER, THEY WIN.
And beneath them was something even worse.
A date.
May you like
Friday's date.
Written in fresh red ink.
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