Sweet Hatred-Chapter 459: War

I decided to meet with Steven first, before dealing with the jeweler upstairs.

The ring could wait another hour.

This couldn’t.

I took the elevator down to the hotel’s private lounge, a space reserved for high-profile guests who needed discretion. Soundproofed. Secure. Perfect for conversations that couldn’t be overheard.

Steven Chen was already waiting, sitting in one of the leather chairs with a laptop open on the table in front of him and a thick folder beside it.

He stood when I entered, shaking my hand firmly.

"Mr. Roman."

"Steven. What do you have?"

He gestured to the chair across from him, and we both sat.

"I’ll start with the plane crash," he said, pulling up files on his laptop and turning the screen so I could see. "Your father’s jet. The official report cited mechanical failure, but I had an independent aviation expert review the wreckage." 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

He clicked through several photos, twisted metal, burned components, technical diagrams I only half understood.

"It was sabotaged," Steven said flatly. "Someone tampered with the hydraulic system. Made it look like gradual wear and tear, but the damage patterns are too specific. Too deliberate."

My jaw clenched, but I wasn’t surprised.

I’d suspected as much from the beginning.

"The mechanic who did the pre-flight inspection?" Steven continued. "Guy named John Levin. He signed off on the jet as flight-ready two hours before takeoff."

"Where is he now?"

"Dead. Found in his apartment three days after the crash. Police ruled it suicide—gunshot wound to the head."

"Convenient."

"Too convenient," Steven agreed. "I looked into his finances. Two days before the crash, fifty thousand dollars was deposited into his account from a shell company. Another hundred thousand was supposed to come after, but obviously that never happened."

He pulled up bank records, highlighting the transactions.

"I traced the shell company back through multiple layers. It’s registered in the Cayman Islands, but the money originated from a private account linked to Roman Holdings."

Another one of my father’s company.

The one Andrew had expected to inherit.

"Andrew," I said.

Steven nodded. "It gets worse. I’ve been tracking his activities over the past few months. He’s been siphoning funds, small amounts, spread across multiple accounts to avoid detection. But it adds up. We’re talking about millions."

He showed me more records. Transfers. Offshore accounts. A trail of money disappearing from Roman Holdings into accounts Andrew controlled.

"Money laundering?" I asked.

"That’s part of it. But there’s something else." Steven pulled up a series of photos... surveillance shots of Andrew meeting with a man I didn’t recognize.

Dark suit. Expensive watch. The kind of man who looked respectable on the surface but had violence written in every line of his posture.

"Who is that?"

"Igor Kozlov. Russian national. Officially, he runs an import-export business. Unofficially, he’s connected to the Bratva... russian organized crime. Specializes in money laundering, weapons trafficking, and making problems disappear."

My blood ran cold.

"The cartel wasn’t enough for the bastard, now he’s involved with the Mafia?"

"Looks that way. They’ve met at least four times in the past two months. Always in public places, restaurants, hotels. Smart enough not to meet anywhere that could be directly tied to either of them."

Steven clicked through more photos. Andrew and Igor at a café. Outside a hotel. Getting into a car together.

"What does Andrew want with him?"

"Best guess? Protection. Resources. Maybe muscle if he needs to make another move against you." Steven leaned back in his chair. "Kozlov’s organization has a reputation for being efficient and brutal. If Andrew’s planning something, having that kind of backing makes him significantly more dangerous."

I stared at the photos, my mind racing.

Andrew had tried to kill our father.

Had succeeded in putting him in a coma.

Had been systematically stealing from the company.

And now he was allied with organized crime.

"What’s his current status?" I asked.

"That’s the concerning part." Steven’s expression darkened. "He’s gone quiet. Suspiciously so. No meetings with Kozlov in the past week. No unusual financial activity."

"He’s planning something."

"That’s my assessment. When someone like Andrew goes from frantic activity to complete calm, it usually means they’re about to make a big move."

I sat back in my chair, processing everything.

The sabotage. The stolen money. The mafia connections.

Andrew wasn’t just trying to take over the company anymore.

He was preparing for war.

"I need you to keep watching him," I said. "Twenty-four-hour surveillance. I want to know everyone he meets, everywhere he goes, every phone call he makes."

"Already on it. I’ve got three people rotating shifts."

"Good. And Steven?"

"Yes?"

"Find me everything you can on Igor Kozlov. His operations, his connections, his weaknesses. If Andrew’s using him as muscle, I need to know how to neutralize that threat."

Steven nodded, making notes. "I’ll have a full report in forty-eight hours."

"Make it twenty-four."

"Understood."

I stood, and Steven did the same, gathering his laptop and files.

"One more thing," I said. "Sarah. Any updates on her location?"

His expression grew grimmer. "Nothing concrete yet. She’s good at staying hidden. But I’ve got feelers out with every contact I have. The second she surfaces, you’ll know."

"Keep looking. She’s out there somewhere, and I need to find her before she becomes a problem."

"Will do."

We shook hands again, and Steven left through the private exit.

I stood alone in the lounge for a moment, my mind churning through possibilities and contingencies.

Andrew was dangerous. More dangerous than I’d given him credit for.

But I’d dealt with dangerous men before.

In combat. In business. In life.

This wouldn’t be any different.

I just needed to be smarter. Faster. More ruthless.

And I needed to protect Aria and our child from the fallout when everything inevitably exploded.

I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to my head of security.

Me: Triple security at the manor. Armed guards on rotation. No one gets in without my explicit approval.

The response came immediately.

Security: Understood. Implementing now.

Good.

Now I could focus on the other matter at hand.

The engagement ring.

I took the elevator back up to my suite, my mind already shifting gears.

From danger and threats and violence.

To love and commitment and the future I was building with Aria.

The jeweler was waiting in the living room when I entered, a black velvet case open on the coffee table.

"Mr. Roman," he greeted warmly. "I apologize for the wait."