Chapter 9 - Shadows in the Estate
The days settled into a strange, structured rhythm within the walls of Roman’s estate. Mornings were spent auditing accounts and organizing digital archives in the quiet study; afternoons involved physical therapy sessions with Dr. Vance, who monitored the cellular repair of my wrist with clinical precision.
By the end of the second week, the heavy plastic brace was replaced by a lighter, flexible leather support strap that allowed limited movement in my fingers. I could finally hold a pen naturally and type without wincing.
Yet, despite the comfort of the estate and the steady paycheck that was already clearing my piled-up medical bills, a persistent sense of unease hung in the air. Guards stationed in the hallways traded muted words over encrypted comms; black sedans arrived and departed from the private courtyard at irregular hours; and Roman spent hours behind closed doors with men who wore expensive suits and carried unmistakable weapons beneath their jackets.
On a rainy Thursday evening, I walked down the dim corridor toward the kitchen to fetch a glass of water, carrying the clear glass pitcher and a single tumbler. As I passed the double doors of Roman's private office, I heard raised voices leaking through the heavy oak.
"—if the shipping routes through the harbor are compromised, Gallow, the whole operation goes sideways," a gruff voice snapped.
"The routes aren't compromised," Roman's voice replied, calm, ice-cold, and entirely unshakable. "They're being audited. By me. If anyone on your end tries to skim from the cargo like the manager did at the restaurant, you won't need to worry about the harbor authorities. You'll need to worry about me."
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A heavy silence followed the threat. I stood frozen in the hallway, the glass pitcher gripped tightly in my left hand, my heart hammering against my ribs. I had known Roman was dangerous—the whispers in the city made that much clear—hearing it firsthand stripped away any lingering illusions about the safety of the estate.
The office door suddenly clicked and began to swing inward. I spun around on my heel, hurrying down the corridor just as a heavy-set man in a gray suit stormed out, muttering curses under his breath.
