Chapter 2 - The Gilded Cage
The private jet sat on the tarmac at Philadelphia International, its engines whining in the heavy downpour.
Inside the cabin, the luxury was suffocating. Leo and Mia were asleep on a plush cream-colored sofa, exhausted by the sheer emotional terror of the day. Roman sat across from them, a glass of untouched scotch in his hand. He hadn't taken his eyes off the children for an hour.
Juliet sat rigidly in the leather armchair across the aisle, staring out the window into the black sky.
"They're five," Roman said, breaking the silence.
Juliet didn't answer.
"Which means you were pregnant when you ran," Roman continued, his voice dropping to a lethal calm. "You carried my heirs in your belly, and you disappeared into the wind. Why, Juliet? What did I do? Tell me what sin I committed to deserve this."
Juliet snapped. She turned her head, her green eyes blazing with years of suppressed agony.
"Don't play the victim, Roman! Not after what I heard!"
Roman frowned, the glass halting halfway to his mouth. "What you heard?"
"I was in your study!" she hissed, mindful not to wake the children. "The night before I left. You thought I was asleep. But I went to bring you coffee. The door was cracked. You were on a burner phone with Silas."
Roman’s posture stiffened at the mention of his underboss. "And?"
"And I heard you give the order," Juliet choked out, a tear finally escaping and cutting a warm path down her cheek. "I heard you tell Silas that my father was becoming a liability with his gambling debts. I heard you say... 'Get rid of the old man. Make it look like a suicide. Juliet will mourn, but she'll get over it.'"
Roman’s amber eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated shock.
"My father died of an 'overdose' three years later, Roman," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Just like you ordered. If I hadn't run, what would you have done to me? What would you have done to my babies once they became a liability?"
The scotch glass in Roman’s hand shattered.
Crystal shards rained onto the carpet. Blood welled up on his palm, but he didn't even blink. He leaned forward, the aura of violence rolling off him in waves.
"Juliet," Roman said, his voice vibrating with absolute, terrifying sincerity. "I never made that call. I never gave that order. I loved your father. And I would have burned the earth to cinder before I let anyone touch a hair on your head."
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Juliet stared at him, her heart pounding. The absolute conviction in his eyes was something she hadn't prepared for.
"Someone played you," Roman breathed, looking down at his bleeding hand. "Someone fabricated that conversation to get you out of the picture. And I am going to peel their skin off for it."
