Just before the bellhop at the St. Regis could reach for the polished brass doors, Roman Castile stepped through the glass threshold and entirely forgot how to draw breath.

The next morning, Roman sat behind his massive mahogany desk in the study. The security footage of the penthouse was playing on a loop on his monitors.

Silas walked in. He was a slick, impeccably dressed man in his late forties, always wearing a smile that never quite reached his eyes. He had been Roman’s right hand for a decade.

"You asked for me, Boss?" Silas said, taking a seat.

"I did," Roman said, leaning back, his amber eyes completely devoid of emotion. "We have a rat, Silas."

Silas raised an eyebrow. "A rat? In the inner circle?"

"A very clever one," Roman murmured. "Someone who knows how to manipulate audio. Someone who wanted to fracture my focus six years ago. Tell me, Silas, where were you the night Juliet disappeared?"

Silas’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. "I was in Brooklyn. Securing the docks. You know this, Roman. Why are we bringing up the past? She's gone. She broke your heart, but you're stronger for it."

"Am I?" Roman stood up, walking slowly around the desk. "Because last night, I found her in Philadelphia."

The color drained entirely from Silas’s face. He stood up, trying to mask his panic with fake relief. "You found her? Roman, that's incredible news!"

"She told me a very interesting story," Roman continued, stopping inches from his underboss. "She said she heard me order her father's death. But we both know I didn't. Which means someone spliced recordings of my voice to make it sound like I did. Someone who wanted me distracted, broken, and isolated so they could slowly take over the shipping routes."

"Roman, you can't possibly think—"

Before Silas could finish the sentence, Roman’s hand shot out, grabbing the man by the throat and slamming him against the bookshelves.

"I don't think, Silas. I know," Roman snarled. "I pulled the server logs from six years ago. You accessed my voice files for the biometric locks two days before she ran. You set her up. You made her believe I was a monster."

Silas choked, his hands clawing at Roman’s iron grip. "She was a weakness! You were getting soft! I did it for the syndicate!"

Roman’s eyes went pitch black. "You did it for yourself. Take him to the basement," Roman ordered.