“My grandfather purchased it during a bankruptcy dispute. Gabriel uses the upper offices.”
“Can you access them?”
“Yes.”
“Without him knowing?”
Roman’s expression became almost amused.
“You are asking whether I can secretly enter my own building.”
“You seem like the type of man who requires permission in his own family.”
The amusement vanished.
“You are becoming reckless.”
“I kissed a suspected crime boss in a museum. Recklessness is no longer a meaningful category.”
Roman studied her.
Then he picked up his sandwich again.
“Tomorrow night,” he said.
They entered the Calder Opera House through a service tunnel beneath the loading dock.
The building had been closed to the public for nearly twenty years. Dust covered the red velvet seats. Torn curtains hung above the stage. Marble statues watched from shadowed balconies.
Mateo disabled the internal alarms.
Roman led Elara to an office above the royal box.
Gabriel’s records were stored behind a panel concealed within a wall of legal books.
Elara expected cash, weapons, or blackmail photographs.
Instead, she found decades of handwritten ledgers.
Each volume contained names, dates, coded payments, political favors, and carefully recorded debts.
Gabriel had documented everything.
Roman opened one of the older books.
His father’s name appeared repeatedly.
Beside it were payments to judges, union officials, police commanders, and rival organizations.
“This could destroy the entire family,” Roman said.
“That may be why Gabriel kept it.”
“As insurance?”
“As ownership.”
Elara opened the newest ledger.
Several pages had been removed.
The remaining entries referenced “the white vessel,” “the western widow,” and “the last heir.”
“What do those phrases mean?” she asked.
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“The white vessel was Isabelle’s car.”
“The western widow?”
“Sabine Kirov.”
“And the last heir?”
“Me.”
A floorboard creaked outside the office.
Roman switched off the desk lamp.
Mateo drew his weapon.
Footsteps approached along the balcony corridor.
Roman moved Elara behind a stone column.
The office door opened.
Gabriel Calder entered.
He was in his early sixties, silver-haired and elegantly dressed. Elara had met him twice during public events. He had treated her with warmth, complimented her intelligence, and told Roman not to underestimate her.
Now he walked directly to the hidden compartment.
He knew someone had opened it.
“Roman,” he said into the darkness. “You were never patient enough for subtlety.”
Roman stepped into view.
Mateo remained concealed.
Gabriel looked at Elara.
His expression was disappointed rather than surprised.
“I advised you to send her away.”
“You advised me to keep her close,” Roman replied.
“Before she began confusing numbers with wisdom.”
Elara held up the ledger.
“Why were pages removed?”
“Because private family records are none of your concern.”
“Money from your security company paid for the operation that killed Isabelle.”
Gabriel’s face remained calm.
“That is a serious accusation.”
“It is a traceable transaction.”
“Then you should understand that money is not motive.”
Roman moved closer.
“Was it you?”
Gabriel looked at the man he had raised.
“No.”
Elara watched his hands.
He wore a gold signet ring bearing the Calder crest. The ring matched a security stamp found on the approval record for Northpoint’s payment.
“Show him your ring,” she said.
Gabriel glanced at her.
“The original authorization was not digital. It was sealed, scanned, and entered into Northpoint’s archive. The impression came from that ring.”
Roman looked down.
Gabriel slowly turned the ring around his finger.
“Many people had access to my office.”
“But not to your hand.”
For the first time, anger disturbed Gabriel’s composure.
“You were supposed to discredit the audit.”
The words escaped before he could stop them.
Silence filled the office.
Roman’s voice became very quiet.
“What did you say?”
Gabriel looked toward the open doorway.
Mateo stepped out and raised his weapon.
Gabriel exhaled.
“There are matters you are not prepared to understand.”
“You arranged the museum photograph,” Elara said.
“I arranged for Everett Sloan to retrieve the copied files.”
“He attacked me.”
“He was told to frighten you.”
“And when I kissed Roman?”
“That was an unexpected complication.”
Roman’s face had become unreadable.
“You used her to reach me.”
“I needed to know what she had discovered.”
“You could have asked.”
“You would have protected her.”
“I am protecting her.”
“Yes,” Gabriel said. “That is the problem.”
He looked at Roman with something close to sorrow.
“Your father understood that affection makes leaders predictable. Isabelle made you weak before she died. This woman has done it again.”