He moved Sienna into my Hamptons estate.
He took my father’s portrait off the wall.
Priscilla started wearing my emeralds to lunch.
And huge sums of Langley Holdings money began moving through an offshore financial channel.
My attorney, Benjamin Frost, brought me the records during our visits — photographs, transfers, a proposed movement of one and a half billion dollars to a shell company abroad.
Frost wanted to blow the whistle immediately.
I asked him to wait.
Because Roman had overlooked the one thing he should have checked.
That offshore channel had once belonged to my father’s company — a route I had personally ordered shut down years earlier, after an internal review flagged it.
Roman didn’t set up a clever new pipeline.
He reopened an old one with my fingerprints already all over the paperwork — paperwork I understood better than anyone alive.
“Preserve everything,” I told Frost. “Bring it to investigators quietly. Let him keep moving money he thinks no one is watching. A man who believes he’s won gets careless.”
My father taught me that, too, at a dinner table twenty years ago.
