Chapter 7 - The Debt Collector's Return
For three weeks, their world felt miraculously untouchable.
They kept their relationship strictly hidden from the public eye during corporate hours, maintaining their sharp, professional banter in front of the board. But behind closed doors—in Roman’s penthouse, on late-night drives through the winding roads along Lake Shore Drive—they were two people discovering what it felt like to be truly seen. Roman taught her the quiet power of patience; Lena taught him how to laugh at absurd comedy movies and eat cheap pizza straight out of a cardboard delivery box.
But peace in Roman DeLuca’s world was always an illusion.
On a bright Tuesday morning, Lena arrived at the corporate building to find two black SUVs with government plates parked directly in front of the main entrance. When she reached the executive floor, the hallway was swarming with agents in windbreakers bearing the seal of the Securities and Exchange Commission.
Lena's stomach plummeted into an icy void.
She pushed past two bewildered receptionists and burst into Roman's office. Roman was standing behind his desk, flanked by his chief legal counsel, while three federal agents bagged corporate hard drives.
"What is happening?" Lena demanded, her voice shaking.
One of the lead agents turned toward her. "Miss Lena Brooks? You're named as a co-conspirator in an anonymous whistleblower filing regarding insider trading and illegal asset stripping related to the Apex Hospitality acquisition."
Lena froze. "That's impossible. I don't even have trading authority!"
"Someone filed a certified affidavit from your corporate terminal," the agent continued flatly. "Stating that you and Mr. DeLuca used non-public financial records to short-sell Bellamy’s Grill stock prior to its parent company's liquidation."
"It's a setup," Roman growled, stepping forward, his eyes burning with murderous fury. "My attorney will have an injunction on these warrants within thirty minutes. You do not address Miss Brooks without my presence."
"Save it for the grand jury, Mr. DeLuca," the agent replied, unbothered. "Until the audit is complete, all accounts linked to DeLuca Holdings and its executive liaisons are frozen."
As the agents filed out with their boxes, Lena sank into a leather chair, her hands shaking uncontrollably. "Who would do this? Who has access to my terminal?"
Roman stood by the window, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscle bulged. "Marcus Vance."
"Vance? You fired him three weeks ago!"
"And he went straight to my primary rival, Victor Sterling," Roman said, turning around with cold, deadly focus. "Sterling has been trying to execute a hostile takeover of DeLuca Enterprises for five years. Vance gave him the ammunition he needed: a trumped-up SEC complaint designed to freeze my liquid capital right before the annual shareholder vote on Friday."
Lena felt a cold wave of guilt wash over her. "This is because of me. Because I exposed Vance's shell company. If I hadn't pushed him out—"
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"Stop," Roman ordered, crossing the room in three strides. He knelt beside her chair, taking her cold hands into his own. "Do not ever apologize for doing what was right. Vance is a rat, and Sterling is a vulture. They think they can use the legal system to choke me out. They think taking away my cash makes me weak."
He squeezed her hands, his eyes flashing with lethal conviction. "They forgot who built this company. And they have no idea who they just attacked."
