Chapter 6 - The Lower Docks
The lower docks of New Jersey at midnight were a stark contrast to the quiet luxury of Roman’s estate. Floodlights cut through the heavy sea fog, casting long, eerie shadows over towering shipping containers and massive cranes that hummed with quiet power. The salty air smelled of diesel, brine, and wet asphalt.
Roman’s black Mercedes pulled up beside a brightly lit warehouse. Two of Roman’s armed guards stood by the sliding steel doors, nodding respectfully as Roman stepped out of the vehicle and walked around to open Sophia’s door.
"Stay close to me," Roman instructed, offering her a steadying hand.
Sophia took his hand, feeling the familiar warmth of his calloused palm against her skin. She stepped out onto the gravel, pulling her heavy wool coat tightly around her against the biting ocean wind.
They walked inside the warehouse. The interior was a labyrinth of stacked crates, forklifts, and mechanics inspecting heavy machinery parts. In the center of the warehouse, near a large diagnostic console, stood Eric.
He looked thinner, his face smudged with grease, wearing a heavy-duty canvas work jacket that was two sizes too big for him. When he heard footsteps approach, he looked up, his eyes widening in shock when he saw Sophia—and the towering, intimidating figure of Roman Vale standing right beside her.
"Sophia?!" Eric yelled, dropping the wrench in his hand and running toward them. "What the hell are you doing here? Did these animals hurt you? Roman—"
"Shut up, Eric," Sophia snapped, stepping forward and stopping him in his tracks.
Eric blinked, staring at her bruised cheek, which was mostly healed now, and the expensive coat she was wearing. "Wait, why are you with him? He's the guy who—"
"He's the guy who paid off your three-hundred-thousand-dollar debt when you ran away like a coward," Sophia interrupted, her voice shaking with a mixture of anger and relief. "He's the reason you're not floating at the bottom of the East River right now!"
Eric swallowed hard, looking over at Roman, who stood silently with his hands in his pockets, watching the sibling reunion with cold, impassive eyes.
"Mr. Vale," Eric stammered, his bravado completely evaporating. "I... I'm working. I swear I'm working off the hours. They have me inventorying shipping manifests and scrubbing grease traps. I'm paying it back, little by little."
"You are paying back the principal, Mercer," Roman said, his voice cutting through the warehouse noise like a knife. "Every single hour you spend here is calculated against what you stole from my associates' ledger. You have two years of hard labor ahead of you before your ledger is clean."
Eric flinched, but he didn't argue. He knew he had no room left to negotiate. He looked back at Sophia, his eyes pleading. "Soph... please. Tell him to let me go home. This place is hell."
"Home?" Sophia repeated, her voice hardening. "What home, Eric? You gambled our father's garage away. You left me to face Victor Caruso's thugs alone in that conference room while you hid in a cheap motel in Atlantic City. You don't get to talk about home."
Eric lowered his head, tears of humiliation welling in his eyes. For the first time in his life, the consequences of his actions had caught up with him, with nowhere left to run.
Roman stepped forward, placing a heavy hand on Sophia’s shoulder. The touch was grounding, a silent reminder that she was no longer alone in carrying the weight of the world.
"You've seen him," Roman said quietly to Sophia. "He's alive, and he's paying his debts. Are you ready to go back?"
May you like
Sophia looked at her brother one last time, feeling a strange mixture of grief for the past and a sudden, powerful sense of liberation. The umbilical cord of guilt that had tied her to Eric's destructive lifestyle for years was finally snapping.
"Yes," Sophia said, looking up at Roman. "Let's go home."
